Page 115 of Tamed By You

My tear-filled eyes meet his and that panic begins to fade again. It scares me how quickly he’s become the one person I want to reassure me and to keep me safe. To be there for me in the toughest moments. I’ve never wanted or needed anyone the way I need him.

“You can do this; I’m going to be right in that courtroom with you. You show them that he messed with the wrong girl, go up there and show them that Ali Hart confidence I love, and when you’re done, come back to me. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

I close my eyes as more tears fall, letting his words sink in. Then I feel him, he hooks his pinky finger with mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.

He looks at me like he’s staring into my soul. Like he needs me to believe every word he’s saying. The pad of his thumb wipes away my tears and I lean into his touch.

“I promise,” he says.

“Okay,” I say with as much determination as I can muster. “Thank you… for being here.”

“Always, Ali. Always.”

I take a seat, and I wonder how many women, girls’ lives changed at the hands of this one man. I know there are others, and I may not know who they are, but I understand them. I am them.

“Hey,” a familiar voice whispers beside me. I turn to see a face I haven't seen in a very long time. My heart stops in its tracks.

Grace.

A lead weight drops into my stomach.

Not her too.

“Hey.” My words are barely audible. I haven't seen her since I was fifteen. We both had Peter as an agent and did the same boot camps and tours. She was my only real friend. But after the attack, I never saw her again, and truthfully, I wanted to move away from anything and everything that was connected tohim and that world. Grace continued competing and won every crown. She’s heavily involved in charity work, and I’ve been a silent follower of her career. On the outside, she looks like she is thriving, but if she went through what I did, I have no doubt she carries a huge weight around with her daily.

I have so many questions, so many things I want to say to her, but I can’t get my mouth to move. I look into her beautiful brown eyes that look almost golden just like her hair. She still looks the same and it breaks my heart that she is here. She places her hand in mine, and we turn to face the front. A silent gesture of solidarity. We don’t need to say anything.

The room falls silent as he’s led into the room, hands cuffed in front of him, wearing an ill-fitting gray suit, I feel sick at the sight of him. He’s aged, his face wrinkled with a noticeable scar along his left cheek, it’s clear prison has not been kind to him.

Good. I hope he’s miserable.

I bounce my right leg up and down anxiously, adrenaline pumping round my body, knowing I am just meters away from the man who tore my world apart. My fight or flight response kicking into high gear.

You can do this.

The panel and the judge enter the room and Grace is called to the stand.

I sit and listen as she tells a room full of people what it would do to her if he was to be released. A dull pain hits my stomach listening to her broken words. I hate that she feels the same way I do, that she’s lived through this hell too. As Grace makes her way back toward me my name is called, and on shaky legs, I make my way to the stand, glancing over my shoulder to seemy family, who all give me nods and smiles of encouragement. My eyes meet with Harry’s, and he mouths,“You can do this.”

I reach the stand, clearing my throat, and taking a deep breath before starting. Good afternoon, my name is Alice Hart, andfifteen years ago I was sexually assaulted by Mr. Andrews after winning a pageant. I…”

I pause. Suddenly the words I’ve written don’t feel enough. Too staged, too put together. I need this to be raw and real. I need to make them see, make him see the impact he has had on my life. I fold the paper and rest it on the wooden podium, noticing the chips within the wood as I do. Little dents that have no doubt been made by the men and women who have stood before me to tell their stories. Fear and anxiety pulsing through them. I rub the pad of my thumb over the dents in the wood. Tempted to use my nail to chip away at the ridges some more. I could chip away at that wood the same way that day has chipped away at me.

“Miss Hart, do you need a break?” the Judge's voice calmly asks.

I lift my head, my eyes meeting his. Squaring my shoulders and holding my head high, I confidently say, “No, your honor, I’m okay.”

He nods. “Okay, please continue.”

“I am here today to try and explain the impact the release of Mr. Andrews would have on my life, what having him walk the same streets as myself would do to me. Truthfully, I don’t know where to begin. I came prepared with words that felt right, but now standing here before you all and in the same room as the man who took so much from me, none of those words feel enough. How do I accurately convey the impact the events of that night have had on my life? How my innocence, my choices, my voice, a life, were taken from me.

“How I am plagued by nightmares of him, how I have issues trusting people, how my entire world crumbled beneath me because of the choices and actions taken by a man that had no right to do so. He used his power, his position, and his strength over me…

I let out a shaky breath, looking down at my hands that grip the podium with white knuckle force as tears prick my eyes.

I turn back to face the jury, catching a glimpse of him with his head hung low, not able to look up at me.

“You may think it’s just one night, one moment, in the midst of so many, just minutes of your life. So how can that make such an impact? But it does. I think anyone who has gone through what myself and Grace have, will tell you, it does, it changes your life in ways you could never imagine. It alters your thinking, changes your brain chemistry. Life for us was never the same after.

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