Page 33 of Don't Speak
“Yeah. That would be fine,” I respond, and then he escorts me to one of the female counselors so that I may be alone for the moment. I’m glad because I don’t think I could walk back into that room and have all of their eyes on me. I hate attention. Attention makes me feel seen. I don’t want to feel seen right now. In fact, I wish I could crawl into a ball and take it all back. Because now? Well, now there are so many unknowns left up in the air. And I really don’t like the unknown.
We are almost back to the church from our trip. It was a long drive, but it went well. I got to sit next to my crush on the bus, the son of one of the counselors, and he let me listen to his iPod. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his kindness. A few had asked me to explain more, but he didn’t. He respected my privacy and provided me with quiet comfort. I needed that.
Just as we’re pulling into the church, my heart sinks. There is a police cruiser waiting in the parking lot, and I immediately know it’s for me. That suffocating feeling is back because now reality is hitting me. Does my mom know? Is she here, too? Am I going with the cop? Is she going to jail? Is HE going to jail? Nausea roils in my stomach, and I ask the counselor topull the car over early. I bolt from the vehicle, running to the nearest tree and emptying the contents of my stomach. One of the female counselors comes to check on me, but I assure her I am fine.
“What is this?” I ask, pointing to the cop car.
“We had to report it, Nikki. We couldn’t just let you go back home after what you told us. The officer just has some questions,” she says, as though answering those will be an easy task.
The officer exits her cruiser, and we slowly walk toward each other. The rest of the group has begun being picked up by parents, which only adds to my anxiety. Great. Now all of the parents are going to think I did something terrible and required police presence.
“Hi, Nikki. My name is Officer Anderson. May I speak with you for a moment? Your mother is waiting inside.”
My heart sinks, and nausea threatens to overwhelm me again. I don’t know how my mom is going to be when I go in there, and that scares me more than anything. I nod, though, and follow her inside. As soon as we are through the door and into the pastor’s office, I notice my mother sitting in the chair in the corner, and she looks at me. I’m not met with the rage I thought I’d see in her eyes, but rather guilt. She looks… sorry.
The next several hours drag on. At times, I found myself dissociating. I don’t do well when people overload me with a ton of information, and I am mentally drained by the amount of questions I’ve been asked.
The only thing I’ve been able to gather is that my stepfather was asked to leave our home during the duration of the investigation. He is not allowed to speak to me or have any contact with me whatsoever. I am supposed to go downtown for a formal interview, where I will then take a polygraph test. I guess the only good news I got today was that he wasn’tallowed to be home when we got there. I hate the idea of having to talk to more strangers about my trauma.
Once the officer is done, my mother and I head home. She’s quiet most of the time, as am I, both of us equally not having any clue what to say at this moment. Just when I thought we’d be riding in silence during the whole trip, she says two words I thought I’d never hear.
“I’m sorry.”
I look at her, really look at her. The look on her face and the tone of her voice make me feel like she is being sincere. I see tears well in her own eyes, solidifying the thought that maybe she means it.
And for the first time in three years, I feel like I have my mom back. That maybe I can forgive her.
I feel hopeful.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Seven years ago
“All rise. This Court, with the Honorable Judge Henderson presiding, is now in session,” the bailiff says as the judge walks in. We stand in unison until the judge has made his way to his seat. Sliding into his chair, he says, “You may be seated.” We follow, sitting back in our seats just as in sync as we stood.
The prosecutor sits on the left, containing a middle-aged dark-haired man in a navy suit. He has a briefcase in front of him, and he looks like he’s ready to attack. On the right sideof the court sits the defendant and his lawyer. The defendant being… him. The fucking piece of shit that took my sister’s innocence. Sean Edwards.
He sits there, completely void of all emotion, staring straight ahead. His lawyer also has a briefcase sitting before him.
“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Nikki Williams to the stand.”
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen stands and walks to the witness stand. I’m immediately enthralled with her. She looks… broken. Just like me.
“Raise your right hand,” the bailiff commands, and she does. “Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do,” she answers and nods her head.
“You may be seated.”
Nikki steps over to the stand, taking a seat. She looks out onto the jury before making her way to the rest of the courtroom. I’m sitting in the very back, off to the corner. She can’t see me where I’m sitting. I sat the furthest away from that scumbag because I don’t want him to know I’m here either. I talked to the prosecutor already and gave him my statement. I asked to be kept out of this case as much as possible. My mother was put on the stand yesterday, playing the role of the “grieving mom.” I rolled my eyes the entire time. She barely paid attention to Charlie. I’m only referred to as “the brother.” Today, Nikki is testifying in our favor.
The prosecutor speaks. “So, Ms. Williams. How do you know the defendant?
“He was my stepfather.”
“And how long had he been your stepfather?
“He married my mom when I was seven.”
