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Abigail
Fred and I are sitting in the courtroom with my lawyers. It's just after lunch, and they're bringing Killian in to testify. I’m just hoping I can keep what I ate down. It wasn’t much, but I tried, so that’s all that matters. They’ve got him all dressed up, like some goodie, goodie, and not the baby raping monster that he really is. My stomach turns, and I squirm in my chair until I feel Fred’s hand on my shoulder. They swear him in, and he sits.
My lawyer approaches him. “Can you state your full name for the record?”
“Robert Killian.”
“Robert, you’re here today of your own volition as part of a deal you struck with the ADA, Marissa Johns, is that correct?”
Killian looks at me, and Marissa. “Yes.”
“Good, good. Can you tell us your relationship to the plaintiff? Miss Abigail Greenwood?”
“I’m one of her teachers at Amel High School.”
“Mmhmm, one of her teachers? Did you have any other connections to Miss Greenwood prior to her becoming one of your students?”
“Yes.” He shifts in his chair.
“Can you elaborate?”
“I’ve been seeing her mother on and off for about six years.”
“So, you’ve been having an extramarital affair?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what if any contact did you have with Miss Greenwood?”
“I was given full access to her.”
My head drops as I remember the first time he touched me. I was only twelve. Mom had him and Harmand’s father over. They partied and got me drunk too. I thought I was bonding with her. Then they had me pinned. I start to hyperventilate as Killian describes the multiple times he’s molested me. He talks about being a sick man, with a taste for little girls. He makes excuses for his behavior
I dissociate, I’m here but not. Words bleed together until I hear Harmand’s voice.
“It’s a fucking lie! She asked for it! She’s always been up on me!”
I look at him, then to the jury and finally my lawyer.
“If you’ll kindly turn your attention to the screen.”
Screen? I focus and realize that he’s got a television. I thought they couldn’t show the video?
“What you are about to see is going to be difficult, but necessary. Please pay mind to a portion at about the four-minute marker and again at the six and twenty.” He plays the video, and it’s different. The angles are different. This isn’t the video that was sent to me. He pauses and rewinds the footage at the point where I’m being stripped. The moment I first said no. He pauses it, and we are looking at my obviously compromised face. “You heard her say no?”
“Yes.” Killian answers. “She always did, but I was a man possessed, and well, honestly, the money was so good.”
“Money? What money?”
“The money Harmand Amel the first has been paying me to prep her for his grandson.”
Murmurs from the jury. Whispers from those in the back. Eyes turn and focus on the Amel’s.
“Order!” Calls the judge, banging her gavel.
“Your claim today is that you have been paid to assault Abigail Greenwood?”
“Her and her cousin Felicity before her. It has been an ongoing situation to keep the Greenwoods under the thumb. Ellie’s addiction made her an easy target.”
More whispers and Harmand’s father growls. He’s about to get up when his lawyer forces him down. “You’re a dead man!”
“Maybe, but you’re going to prison too,” Killian shouts. The guard has to restrain them as they go after each other. I’m grabbed by the ADA and ushered out of the courtroom. It isn’t until I’m in the waiting room again that I realize my face is covered in tears.
I'm in Fred's arms, gripping him hard. "I don't know how much more I can handle today. I want to go home."
"I know, Monkey, I know." Fred wraps me tighter.
Once I'm starting to calm, I look at the clock, and it's already three. We have to be done today. I'm starting to feel like hell, and my head is killing me.
Marissa comes in, closing the door behind her. “They’re breaking for the day. Abigail, Harmand’s lawyer, wants to talk deal. They know we’ve got them. After that outburst, the defense doesn’t even wanna try and cross-examine. With Killian turning over his own videos, there isn’t enough money in the world to turn the jury’s favor now.” She takes a deep breath. “They’re going to jail.”
“I want to know why they wanted me under their thumb. I think I deserve that much.”
“They’re not going to cooperate... Harmand the third is going to prison, that's for sure, as is his father. I won’t budge on that, but the old man. Perhaps he’ll talk deal? If Killian can produce corroboration that he was being paid, we’ll have enough to bring him in.” Marissa looks at me. “Is there anything you remember about any prior assault that could be used as leverage? Killian says there are photographs somewhere.”
“There are, I can get them.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll have them for you tomorrow.”
Marissa holds up her hands, “I don’t want to know how or where from. Understand me?”
“Yeah, okay.” I look at Fred. “I need Vic.”
He nods at me as we pack our stuff up. During breaks, he’s been making me eat and do my school work. Like I don’t have enough going on. Let’s add school work to the mix. Pulling my phone out of my bag, I click on Vic’s name and wait for him to answer.
“Hey, baby girl. Everything okay?” I hear him shuffling and grunting.
“Where are you?” I ask, dropping my bag into Fred’s truck.
“The new place, Clay and I are moving things in. Are you okay?’
“You know that thing we’ve done from time to time? They one we don’t talk about?”
He’s quiet a second. “Um- elaborate a bit, we do a lot of things lately.”
“That could put us in jail for a bit?”
“I will not help you steal cookies from girl scouts, again.” He huffs. “Come home, and we’ll talk about our budget and buy them.” He says condescendingly.
“You’re killing me. Meet me at Clayton’s. Fred’s driving there now. Bring old clothes.”
“See you in a little while. You freak of nature.”
Fred drops me off at Clayton’s, and I use the hide-a-key to get in. I drop my stuff on the couch and go upstairs to strip out of my court clothes. I’m working my way into a pair of jeans when I hear the front door open and close.
“That didn’t take long. Did you leave Clayton or bring him along?” Hands wrap around my middle and then slide down to my belly, pressing firmly.
“Guess I’ll have to knock this one out before I can replace it.” Harmand’s voice hisses in my ear.
“What are you doing here?” I’m looking for all possible ways out of this mess.
I’m spun around, and he kisses me, forcing his foul tongue into my mouth as he backs me into the dresser. “Come on, you little slut. Give it up.” He grabs me by the crotch. “It’s always been mine, anyhow.”
“No, absolutely not. I’ve never even liked you.”
“You’re bought and paid for. Like a horse or cow. Gramps made sure. You’ve got too much too just let it go.” He pushes me further into the dresser as his fingers try to pry my thighs apart. I hear a clanking in my ear.
I’d know that noise anywhere. It’s my monkey wrenches. Stupid, stupid boy. “What are you talking about? What do I have?” I try to get him to look me in the face, so he doesn’t notice my hands. He does one better, drops his head to lick my chest. God, I wanna puke.
“Oh, don’t you know? About the buildings on the old mill road?” I feel his fingers as they wiggle, and my panties are pushed aside.
“Abigail?” Clayton’s voice breaks into the house, and Harmand turns his head to the sound.
I shove him away and grab one of the monkey wrenches, swinging it like a bat. It connects with his face, and down he goes. I hit him for every word I say. “Do. Not. Touch. Me. Again. You. Stupid. Son. Of. A. Bit-” I lifted into the air.
“Abigail! Honey, stop!” Clayton says urgently I’m spun and see Vic now staring at me.
“What happened?” He asks, looking past me, his eyes widen. He pulls out his phone. “Baby girl, what have you done?”
