Beautifully Awake

“Was your leave of absence from the workforce to pursue higher education?”

“Yes ... um, no.” What the hell was he trying to prove? My pulse accelerated as sweat beaded beneath the long hair at the nape of my neck.

“Objection, badgering the witness. What is the relevance of this line of questioning?”

I used the prosecution’s interruption to shift in my seat and re-crossed my legs that were now stuck to the uncomfortable leather.

“Credibility of the witness, Your Honor.”

Shit. Un-fucking-believable. No pun intended.

“Proceed carefully, Attorney Reed.”

I peeked up at the judge who just gave this jackass the right-of-way to travel down this road.

“Care to clarify your last response, Ms. Porter?”

“Can you repeat the question?” My last line of defense was just relinquished, and I was staring at my empty net. This bastard was about to score.

“Again, was your leave of absence from the workforce to pursue higher education?” He stopped directly in front of me.

“No.” But you already know that.

“How long were you unemployed?”

“Four months.”

“Very well. We’ll get back to that. So, Ms. Porter, I would like to clarify a timeline. You filed your official report with Child Services, accusing my client Mr. Wayne on May 8th, three and a half years ago, and human resources at Wrangel Children’s Crisis Center has your last day as May 15th. Is it fair to say the Wayne’s family case was one of the last you worked on before your abrupt leave of absence?”

Gritting my teeth, I responded, “Yes.”

“Ms. Porter, have you ever falsely accused anyone of a crime before?”

No. This was not happening. Acid burned the back of my throat. Not caring if it was the last answered request of my life, I prayed for a fast-forward. A skip. Anything.

The walls started closing in, and the argument bouncing back and forth sounded more like a noisy snow of television static than “Objection” and “Withdrawn.”

I finally snapped out of my haze, unsure how many times Derek Reed had repeated my name in an attempt to regain my attention. The slimy piece of shit snaked his hands into his way too fitted pants pockets and focused at the jury when he asked, “Ms. Porter, who is Dan Reed?”

“Objection? Relevance?” This time, the prosecutor stood, slamming her hands on the top of the desk.

“Requesting some leeway, Your Honor, goes to credibility of the witness.” Derek shrugged and raised his hands to his sides in a what-did-I-do stance. Bastard.

“Overruled. Answer the question, Ms. Porter.”

Every fiber of my being wanted to scream selfish fuck-face, but I needed this to be over. Now. Answering his questions was my only ticket off this stand. “He is my ex-boyfriend.” I refused to utter his name.

“Is it or is it not true that Dan Reed very publicly announced the end of your relationship in a bar in town, approximately one month prior to your aforementioned abrupt leave of absence?”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Porter, did you ever accuse ... excuse me, my error. Did you ever file criminal charges against said ex-boyfriend?”

There was no error; he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Yes.” The hair on my arms and legs prickled, while my blood boiled. Swallowing was no longer a possibility; the golf ball size lump in my throat was responsible. And if I clenched my fists any tighter, I was going to draw blood.

“And what were those charges?”

I saw nothing but red, but my voice was steady. “Rape.”

The silence in the courtroom was deafening. I sensed the anger radiating from Chase. I didn’t look at him though. I couldn’t. I held my head high and my gaze straight ahead.

“Ms. Porter, am I correct that there was approximately a two-week lag between the alleged event and when you filed charges?”

“Yes.”

“And did you have a doctor’s appointment the day you brought the charges of this alleged rape?”

This fucker was going to make me say it. My eyes pleaded with the prosecutor to make him stop.

“Objection, this line of questioning is completely irrelevant.”

“I’m almost done, Your Honor. It helps establish a timeline, and Ms. Porter’s frame of mind at the time she filed a formal complaint accusing my client of child abuse. Being that she was the only person to ever question my client’s character, I believe it is completely relevant.”

“Overruled. Make your point quickly, Attorney Reed.” They both looked at me, waiting for a response.

Afraid of passing out, I concentrated on slowing my shallow pants before I answered. Over my dead body would he get the satisfaction of seeing me weak. “Yes.”

“What was your reason for that doctor’s visit, Ms. Porter?” Derek faced the jury, going in for the kill, officially becoming selfish fuck-face the second.

“Isn’t that personal?” I wanted to smack him across the face. My nails dug harder into my white-knuckled fists.

“Not if it’s relevant to your credibility, Ms. Porter, I’m sorry. Please answer the question.” The judge looked almost apologetic when he addressed me.

“I … I was pregnant.” You could have heard a pin drop. I took a punch to the gut. Direct hit. Any control I had on breathing was deserted. Ragged and labored, my mouth was as dry as cotton. I had no choice. I turned to where Chase was sitting. I needed to see him.

Bent over with his elbows on his knees and his fists clenched over his mouth, all I saw were his eyes. The fury was frightening. Intensity on fire. His eyes rhythmically jerked between selfish fuck-face number two and me. His arms and legs looked so tight, like he might explode out of the small chair at any moment. How had I let this happen? I could usually read his crystal gaze like a novel, but in that moment, I was left searching. Was he angry with me, livid that I never told him? His earlier question haunted me. Something I need to worry about, Blue? Shit, I should have just told him, why, why didn’t I?

“So let me get this right, the day you discovered you were pregnant, you decided to bring forth charges and accuse your ex of rape. Did you make any other monumental decisions that day?”

I was not going to be his victim. Derek knew everything. The truth. And his intentions were crystal clear. These questions were far from over. I inhaled deeply and directly faced his cold stare, but the coward’s eyes quickly darted away. “Yes. I called Boston University and deferred my acceptance to the master’s program.”

“Deferred? But you never did actually attend the program. Is that correct?”

“Yes. You’re correct. I was able to defer, but I wound up losing my scholarship. So no, I never attended.”

“Fine. Let’s continue.” Blood started to drip from my right palm, so I wiped the evidence of my fury on my new designer dark linen dress. A freeze-frame of our perfect NYC weekend flashed in my mind, adding fuel to my fire. The ugliness of my past still had the power to stain. “Ms. Porter, did you drop said rape charges two weeks later?”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Porter, I hate to ask a personal question again, but were you treated at Wrangel Community Medical center the day prior to dropping all charges?” His smugness was infuriating.

Please, Please. This needed to end. From across the room, I felt Chase’s heat, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again. What was he thinking? Why hadn’t I just told him everything? I physically felt the rage that clouded his beautiful eyes moments ago running through my body. My knees shook involuntarily. It took every ounce of strength to keep the tears pooling beneath my contacts from falling. I would not give that son of a bitch lawyer the satisfaction.

“Yes.” The dam broke. Years of denial were over. “And I’m sure you want to know why. So let me save us