Page 77 of You Might Be Bad for Me

My throat’s tight, as is the pain in my chest when my lawyer argues in my defense. It’s only an arraignment and my lawyer said the case they have is weak.

A plea of not guilty by reason of temporary insanity is my best bet for surviving this and I don’t object to it.

Judge Hubert is an old man. The years are shown through the wrinkles around his pale blue eyes and the white beard around his scowl.

His gaze lingers on me while the prosecutor reads the statement from the psychologist who examined my initial confession.

It’s more evidence but at least the shrink supports my case. Not that the prosecutor sees it that way. He’s doing his damnedest to make sure this goes to trial. A plea of temporary insanity isn’t applicable, according to him. Every time his hard voice booms in the courtroom, my hands clench into fists. If he were in my position, I can’t imagine he’d do any different.

I just want to get out of here. In my head, I imagine them letting me walk out right now so I can go straight to Allie. So I can finally talk to her.

I don’t know if she’s all right. I know she refused medical help. I know he didn’t get a chance to … I have to clear the lump in my throat at the thought, a chill rolling down my spine and making me that much more tense. I overheard some cops talking about it. For that reason alone, all of this is worth it. Even if it weakens my case.

At least I saved her from that.

Still, I need to hear her say she’s okay. I need to hear it from her.

I’m only able to take a quick glance, just one. As soon as our eyes lock, hers well up with a sadness I hate. With a pain I wish I could take from her. And she apologizes.Again.

“Your honor, our case is strong. There was nothing my client could have done given his mental state when he arrived on the scene.” My lawyer, Nina Abbot, speaks clearly and confidently. As if there’s no greater truth than the words she’s made echo throughout the courtroom. “He was unaware of reality. In that moment, he was not aware of what he was doing. Only his motions, not what they would result in.”

I force my gaze back to the wooden table in front of me. It’s smooth and smells like lemon as if it was just polished before we came out here.

It’s difficult to breathe as she places her hand on my shoulder. “It’s obvious given my client’s testimony and the report just read from Dr. Agostino that given the situation, Mr. Warren was not in his right mind to control his actions.”

“That only holds true if in fact the testimony from both Mr. Warren and Allison Parker are reliable, and there are questions surrounding the validity of Miss Parker’s statement.” The prosecutor’s voice rings out and my fists turn white knuckled. I keep my gaze down, refusing to look at him and his tailored suit. The image of his face is clear in my mind as I keep my shoulders and neck stiff. His jaw is hard and cleanly shaven. His eyes cold and unforgiving. He’s a man who will fight to put me behind bars at all cost. The very thought should be terrifying as I sit here, because I did it. I murdered him. But I did it for her.And I’d do it again.

“With all due respect, Miss Parker’s statement is irrelevant. Mr. Warren’s mental state was determined by his perception when he arrived on the property. The same perception that the third witness, Mrs. Clemons, the adjacent neighbor who witnessed the end of the act, gave. As far as my client and Mrs. Clemons could both tell, Miss Parker was in imminent danger. Whether or not she’s even capable or willing to testify is irrelevant.”

The sound of the courtroom doors opening beg me to look behind me, but I resist. My body’s tight and my muscles coiled. I hardly trust myself to breathe. I can still feel Allie looking at me. I refuse to move unless it’s to go to her.

It’s only when my lawyer turns away from me and the soft whispers of furious voices make the rest of the room turn silent, that I force myself to look in my periphery.

The sound of two people walking down the aisle draws my attention more. A skinny young woman, dressed in black slacks and a loose, cream blouse, is hidden by the silhouette of the man beside her but as they walk, her face comes into view.

I think her name is Angie. She has the same chem lecture as Allison and me and I’ve seen her around a few times. She stands just past Mr. Beck, the prosecutor, and next to another man in a suit. I turn my head to make sure it’s her. Her blonde curls dangle in front of her face and I’m sure she’s doing it on purpose.

She’s ashamed. Even as she stands there, clasping her hands in front of her, she starts to cry. Silent tears that she quickly wipes away.

“Your honor, new evidence has just come to our attention and we’d like a recess.” Mr. Beck finally addresses the court, although his voice is laced with something that gives me hope.

Defeat.

“What is this new evidence?” the judge asks, his pale blue eyes moving between Angie and the man who brought her in.

“The prosecution’s defense rests heavily on the questionability of Miss Parker’s statement that Mr. Henderson was forcing himself on her. A witness has come forward stating the action of Mr. Henderson is a repeated offense.”

“As in, he attempted to rape her?” the judge clarifies and Angie lowers her head, tears falling freely, and this time she doesn’t brush them away.

“Charges were pressed in early August, but the case was never brought to court. The charges were dismissed.” The quiet air of the room changes, turning to whispers and murmurs. Back in early August I hadn’t been accepted into the program yet. But Kevin was here then at his parents’ place.

“Your honor,” Mr. Beck says, “the case was never—”

“They settled out of court?” the judge asks, cutting off Mr. Beck and the district attorney shakes his head no.

“The witness refused to testify and dropped the charges.”

The judge taps his pointer finger on the gavel in front of him, considering her and the new information.

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