Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
This feels like I'm cutting out my own heart, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to find the strength to live without him, much less be the very reason that he is taken from me in the first place.
I've lost count of how long I've been in this fucking cell. Alone. Nothing to do but stare at the damn walls, do push-ups, and think about how fucked up this all is. They won't even give me a goddamn razor to shave my face with. Shit like this is enough to drive someone fucking insane. Why in the hell are they going to put people who are already not fucking right in the head in solitary confinement? Let's just drive them on over the edge into complete psychosis? For fuck's sake. I've started talking to myself. Fucking great.
Robert said he delivered my letter to Tor. I asked how she looked, and he didn't respond, which worries me. Surely there's only so much one person can handle before they break. She needs me, and there's not shit I can do about it.
I hear Marshall banging on his door and howling. He does that every morning. Every single fucking morning. I push up from the ratty cot and take a piss. I turn the water and wash my face off, and then go sit on the edge of the bed and wait. Today is my hearing. I'm not sure how I will handle seeing her. I'm scared as shit she's going to say something I told her not to.
Eventually, I hear footsteps echo down the hallway, and I rise, waiting right in front of the door. The guard's weathered face peers through the window. "Pearson, put your wrists together."
I cross my arms as he opens the door, cuffing me as usual before leading me through the corridors and outside. The sun is beaming and it heats my skin. At one time I enjoyed the way that feels, but not now. I don't enjoy a damn thing anymore.
An officer shoves me into the back of a police car, and we drive off. I watch the farmland roll by and turn into a small city, and we pull up behind a courthouse. There are lines of people out front, along with various media vans. The officer guides me from the back seat, walking me toward the front of the court house.
My heartbeat picks up as I approach the building. This is going to be fucking torture, sitting in that room, face to face with her while she tells a courtroom full of people what happened. I swallow hard and take a deep breath.
"Better smile. It's your ten minutes of fame, Pearson," the officer laughs as we round the corner.
Swarms of people turn and stare at me. Flashes from cameras blind me, questions shouted at me as I'm lead up the concrete steps. I don't look up; I keep my eyes trained on the ground, watching my chained feet move beneath me.
The double wooden doors to the courtroom open. It's already full, which I wasn't expecting. I'm lead to the front and sat at a long table next to Robert. He glances at me, a nervous smile twitching over his lips. "Just try to keep your shit together, okay?"
I nod. "Where is she?"
"Behind us."
My face grows warm and my stomach knots. I can't fucking turn around and look at her. I just can't do it. I keep my eyes trained on the edge of the table, reminding myself whatever she says... I told her to say it.
"The prosecution calls to the stand, Victoria Devaux," a cold voice rings out.
I can't breathe. I can't do this. My sister squeezes my hand, reassuring me that the monster who took me can't touch me again. She knows nothing. I miss him. My very soul aches for him. This is akin to someone dying, only to discover that they are suddenly alive, and now you have to put a bullet in their head. I can't, but I must.
I rise, my legs shaking violently. I feel the weight of the stares from the jury as I make my way to the witness stand. I feel their barely concealed shock as they look at the pregnant woman, the pregnant woman who can only possibly have conceived during her time in captivity, as a hostage. I feel their horror and their pity in the tense silence of the courtroom.
I take a seat, and then, for the first time in weeks, I see Jude's face. I barely recognise him. His face is more drawn, and covered in a thick beard. My fingernails dig into the palms of my hands as my mind races through all the awful things that might have happened to him in that place. I always told myself no one would fuck with Jude, but in a place full of killers who is to say Jude is the worst?