Page 53 of Troy

After a subdued lunch, we file back in. It’s the opposition’s turn to question me and this is where I begin to appreciate every minute of Mason and Austin’s bullying investigation; doubt and sneer colors their voices as they try to break down my story. Deschamps’ lawyer is every inch the tormentor I was told to expect. He cuts in on my answers, he scorns and belittles my replies. Mason opposes his interrogation on many occasions and the judge gets annoyed with the line of questioning, reprimanding him. His questions take longer than Mason’s, mainly because he seems to ask the same one in different permutations, desperate for me to trip up.

Eventually he utters the words I’ve been dreaming of, ‘no further questions’; I’m done. Not only with the examination, but physically and mentally I’m drained, exhausted, and desperate for sleep.

Dismissed for the day—we have orders to return the following day—I’m finished. It will be Ben’s turn, as well as the paramedics, doctors and surgeons who saved me, over the next few days. Raff and Corrie will be last as they are questioned on Deschamps’ relationship with them and his abuse of Rafferty all through his childhood.

“I’m gonna have a shower and hit the sack, Raff.” Ryan and Nico are still here, planning to stop over for the week. Mason was full of praise for me and told Raff I did a perfect job. He seems satisfied his plan for it to be over and done with this week will hold. I think he’s itching to get his claws into Deschamps’ later this week; I’m interested, too. But now I’m tired.

“You want me to come up?” Raff looks up as I trod past him.

“You don’t have to, if you want to chill out and watch TV or talk with the others. I don’t mind.” I do, really, I want him wrapped around me as I lie down. I felt so exposed today, as if everyone there were mere voyeurs rather than judge and jury, and now I want to be with the one man who knows me, really knows me.

“Fuck that! C’mon, let’s go.” Raff marches out to the deck where Ryan and Nico have gone to relax in the warm night air. “You guys okay? Troy’s exhausted, we’re gonna crash.”

I don’t hear the reply but Raff comes back in and whistles for the dog. Boss lumbers in after him and bounds up the stairs ahead of us, ready to take his place in the corner of our room. I head straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower after stripping out of my clothes. Raff follows and picks up my discarded suit, laughing at my slovenly behavior.

Moments later, I’m under the scalding hot water, the hate from today flushing away. As the water pounds my head, the evil taunts and jeers dissipate and the lawyer’s trick questions flow down the drain. Raff walks in and wraps himself around me, simply holding on as I stand, unable to do much more. Luckily, he takes charge and applies shampoo to my hair, his strong fingers massaging my scalp. A small moan escapes me, making Raff chuckle, and, tipping my head back, he rinses the bubbles from my hair before starting on my body. The softness of the sponge as he glides it over my skin lulls me and sleep tries to take me as I stand.

“C’mon on, baby, you’re all done.” Raff herds me out and grabs two large, super soft towels and, after wrapping one around his waist, dries me off with the other.

Pulling down the bedspread, I scrabble in with the grace of a small child, but as my head hits the soft pillows a deep sigh seeps from my body. I am aware of Raff lying behind me, his arms engulf me, holding me close.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Troy; you did good, baby. You did so good.” Raff’s warm breath sweeps over me and I’m gone.

This week is the longest of my life; I listen to lie after lie spill from Deschamps. Mason is amazing and shuts down every argument the opposition tries. But the shocker out of all of this comes when Mason calls Deschamps’ driver to the witness stand. I glance around and come across the outraged faces of my friends. But, the recording clearly hears him calling for Deschamps to stop before he kills me. However, it’s the sneers and whispers from the other table that has them scandalized; Mason hadn’t notified them of this added witness.

I am more than ready for this to be done. Only the closing speeches are left and the slimeball is about finished; I think he loves the sound of his own voice.

Mason is up. Now there is a man I could listen to all day; his voice is confident yet sincere and I watch as he has the jury eating out of the palm of his hand. They have been attentive throughout and I can’t begin to imagine how many notebooks they filled with the copious notes they took.

Finally, the judge has a few words to say to the jury and then dismisses them to come to their decision. This is going to be the toughest part; it could be two hours, it could be two days.

Reclining, I look over my shoulder at my friends and family. Mason and Austin’s wives are here, as well as the guys from the gym. Most of them simply smile but I get a few thumbs-up, too. Rising for the judge to leave, we file out.

“What do we do now?” Chewing the skin at the side of my thumb, I pace the auditorium. We are to wait here for the remainder of the day to see if the jury comes to a decision before court closes for the weekend. If they don’t, we go home and wait. I can’t do that; I want to scream at them that it’s so fucking easy!

Raff grabs my arm and pulls me to him as he drops onto a chair, dragging me onto his knee. It earns us the evilest glares from Deschamps’ supporters. “It will happen today, baby, I promise.”

“You don’t know that. How can you possibly know that?” I twist around to face him.

“Because there is no way those twelve, nice people want to spend a weekend in a hotel, away from their families, when it is a simple case.” Raff kisses me tenderly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I persuade myself to believe him.

Mason has his cell glued to his ear as he talks to the office, Austin chats with Ben, and Corrigan leans against the wall, his head tipped back and his eyes shut.

Someone from the gym brings sandwiches in but I listlessly pick at mine. Three hours later, the court room door opens and we are called back into the room. Raff kisses me lightly and takes a seat with the others as I take the seat between Austin and Mason, hopefully for the last time.

We stand as the jury files in and then rise again a few moments later for the judge.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I believe you have reached your verdict. The verdict form has been handed to the bailiff.”

“We, the jury, duly empaneled and sworn in on the case of Ballantyne versus Deschamps, on the count of kidnap and attempted murder, we find the defendant guilty.”

I look at Mason who smiles, guilty! That means we won! Oh my God! We won!

I sit stunned, motionless as all other counts of abuse, blackmail and assault are read out as guilty verdicts.

I turn to face Raff, tears flowing freely down his cheeks; the guys cheer loudly but I simply stand there.

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