I’d slept badly the night before. Very badly.
When I woke up, there was a dull pain in my ribs and my stomach, almost as though my body was telling me to remember what Tom had done to me. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water cleanse my soul as well as my body.
“You ok?” Jaret asked when I came back out of the shower. He had gone out and gotten me Starbucks, along with some cinnamon buns from the bakery down the street that I loved. I nodded.
“It’s going to be a big day. You’ll need some energy.”
“Thanks, Jaret. Thank you. Seriously.”
“Hey. It’s nothing. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Remember. No matter what happens today, no matter what he says, none of it is going to matter when the jury looks at that video tape. The bastard’s going down.”
“I’m just worried he’s going to go down swinging.”
“Of course he will. But you’re going to come out on top, you got me?”
I nodded. I wished I had Jaret’s confidence.
“Come on. Time to eat. You don’t want to be late today, of all days.”
I sat down at the table and forced myself to eat half the cinnamon bun. I barely tasted the icing that I usually found so delicious I sometimes asked the lady at the counter for extra in a little tub. The coffee just tasted like heat in my mouth. I could barely swallow it.
As Jaret drove us to the courthouse, I stared out the window.
I thought about my life. I thought about the mistakes I’d made. Mistakes that had been incredibly costly.
So costly, in fact, that they had cost my child my life.
What if I hadn’t decided to go to that bar?
What if I’d just decided to stay in and study like I was going to?
What if I hadn’t had the worst day ever in my statistics class, and decided that no, after all, blowing off some steam was definitely the right call.
I never would have met Tom. And I’d be getting ready to give birth to my child.
Before I knew it, we were at the courthouse. Jaret parked the car, and we went in through the front entrance this time. I had decided that was what I wanted today.
I wanted Tom to see I wasn’t scared. I wanted him to know that I was strong, that I could handle this.
When I saw the throng of reporters out the front of the courthouse, I had second thoughts. I stood on the other side of the street for a minute. Jaret squeezed my hand.
“You ok?” he asked. I nodded.
“Yes. I want to do this.”
“Ok. Let’s go then.”
His encouragement spurred me on and I crossed the street. As soon as the reporters noticed us, they all came running. Jaret put one arm around my shoulders and stuck his other arm forward, to keep anyone from getting too close.
“Please,” he shouted to the reporters. “My sister has no comment. She’s simply here to see justice done,” he told them as he hurried me past the twenty or so people desperate for a sound clip from me.
It was completely insane. I couldn’t believe how much people wanted to know about this trial. Was this what celebrity like was like constantly? It was horrendous!
“Please, Miss Prescott, do you expect Tom Nesbitt to say anything controversial today?”
“How confident are you that Nesbitt’s going to be found guilty?”
“Do you have anything to say to other women who have been in an abusive relationship?”
Question after question flew my way. I simply put my head down, tried to block them out as best as I could, and walk past.
With Jaret’s arm around my shoulder, I knew nothing bad was going to happen to me.
And sure enough, less than a minute later – even though it felt like an eternity – we crossed through the doors, and as they closed behind us, it was like someone had just pressed the mute button.
All the sounds of harried reporters outside disappeared, replaced with the sounds of efficient heels clacking quickly on the floor, the beeping of the metal detector and murmured conversations between defense lawyers and district attorneys.
I made my way through the metal detector, picked my purse back up, then followed Jaret to the courtroom. Even though he was obeying my desire to hide our relationship, I could tell that he was purposely standing close to me, protecting me even without having to touch me. Just the fact that he was there made me feel better.
As soon as we entered the courtroom we sat down in one of the pews. The judge came out a minute later, went through all the formalities, then asked the defense if they were ready to call their next witness.
“The defense calls Thomas Nesbitt,” Tom’s attorney replied.
The doors to the side of the courtroom opened up and Tom was wheeled out. Because of his chair he couldn’t get into the witness stand, so instead he was wheeled in front of it, where a court officer came by with a bible. Tom swore to tell the truth, then the proceedings started.
I felt like I was going to throw up as the defense lawyer for Tom started asking him about our relationship.
“Now, did you ever hit Ms. Prescott?”
Tom had his Mr. fucking perfect face on. The face that had lured me, an unsuspecting nineteen year old, into the most destructive relationship of my life. The face that fooled so many people into thinking there was no way this guy could be an abuser. Including some people I used to call friends. Luckily, the ones that really counted, the ones who had all sent me texts of support that morning, they had believed me.
“No. I never hit her,” Tom announced. The lying fucking bastard.
“So why are there hospital records of her having hurt herself? Why is she making these accusations now?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Tom replied. “But I can speculate.”
“Objection, speculation,” I heard the DA sitting at the prosecution table complain.
“He dated the woman for years, your honour. I think he’s in a good position to speculate as to her state of mind.”
The judge paused for a minute, considering the argument, before continuing.
“I’ll allow it. Continue, Mr. Nesbitt.”
I could tell the prosecutor was outraged, but there was nothing he could do. The judge had ruled.
“Well, to be honest, she’s always bit a little bit emotionally unstable. I know once she went to the hospital with a broken wrist. Everyone thought she had been abused, that I had done it. I even got a visit from the cops when the hospital called them. But the reality was, Mikki had done it to herself.”
Was I seriously hearing this right? Bile built up in my throat. I wanted to puke in a combination of disgust and anger. I wanted to stand up and announce that he was a fucking liar, a piece of shit that didn’t deserve to live.
But Jaret’s hand on mine, squeezing it tightly, stopped me. I knew what he was telling me, without saying the words. If I burst out now, it would give credibility to his claims. Everyone would believe him. Every single person in this courtroom knew I was there. If I sat here, accepting what he said, I’d seem like the reasonable person that I was.
So instead, I stared at a little black spot on the floor.
I stared at the spot and forced myself to stay calm.
Forced myself to listen as my ex told lies about me while under oath.
“Did you go to her apartment that night, the night that you were accused of assaulting her?”
“No. I did not.”
“How did you end up in the hospital, then?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t remember anything from that night. I think I must have gone out to drink, or something.”
“So in reality, you don’t know if you were at her apartment or not.”
“There was no way I could have been. I had no idea where Mikki lived.”
“We heard from the prosecution that your brother recently got a job working at the DMV, and that he would have been able to access Miss Prescott’s address through his work.”
Tom shrugged. “I didn’t ask my brother to do that. I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”
“So you’re saying that it wasn’t possible for you to be at Michaela Prescott’s apartment that night.”
“That’s correct.”
“So how do you explain the evidence given by police and EMT workers who found you there?”
Tom shrugged. “Honestly. I can’t. My best guess is that she and her stepbrother made it all up to get revenge on me when I left her. They had to have brought me to the apartment.”
I had to say, this was pathetic. Surely there was absolutely no way at all the jury could be buying any of this. It was the most far-fetched story I’d ever heard.
For the first time that day, my mood lifted. There was no way Tom was going to get away with this. He was going to be convicted, and he was going to jail.
Little did I know how short lasted my optimism was going to be.