Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 73153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I couldn't answer him. My dad's eyes were boring into the side of my head, and it was making me highly uncomfortable. Sweat was trickling down my back. It was like being right back where I was months ago.
I turned to look behind me, catching Angelina's eyes. She gave me a small, encouraging smile. I turned back around to face the front, blowing out a harsh breath.
I couldn't do this.
When the judge entered the room, everyone stood up, waiting for him to sit before we all did. I could barely hold myself up. My legs were shaking so badly that I was gripping the table with a white-knuckled grip to keep myself upright.
"You all may be seated,” the judge’s voice boomed out through the courtroom.
I heavily collapsed into my chair, dropping my face into my hands. I sucked in a large breath of air, desperately trying to calm my nerves. Carl leaned over to me. "They're about to call your father up to the stand, and his lawyer is going to ask him some questions, and then I'm going to. Once he's off the stand, then you'll be called up, okay? Do you remember how to respond to the questions his lawyer may throw at you?"
I swallowed hard, nodding mutely. I could remember them now, but at this rate, I wasn't even going to remember my fucking name when I finally made it to the stand.
"Henry Olive, will you please step up to the stand?" the judge asked, turning his eyes to my father.
My dad rose to his feet, and I shrunk back in my chair. If it were possible, he'd only gotten larger and beefier since he had been locked away. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain I would suffer if he made it out of this courtroom today.
After agreeing to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, his lawyer stood up, facing him. "Mr. Olive, is it true that you abused your daughter for the seventeen years she's been alive?"
"No." His voice was strong and confident as he met his lawyer's eyes, the lie easily slipping past his lips.
My stomach dropped to my feet. I had forgotten how good of a liar my father could be.
"So, it’s not true that you raped her, either?" I winced at the word rape, swallowing down the vomit that rose in my throat.
"No,” my dad said in that same tone he had used to answer the last question, not even phased by the questions that his lawyer was throwing at him.
"Then, Mr. Olive, could you explain to us the hand and fist-shaped bruises covering your daughter's body, as well as the obvious sexual abuse she obtained?" His attorney gestured to the screen on the wall where all of the pictures were on display that Mrs. Freeman had taken when I had been admitted to the hospital.
My dad looked at me, his eyes cold and filled with so much hatred that I visibly flinched in my seat. I saw him fight the smirk wanting to take over his face, but he eventually shoved it down. I could taste the acid in my throat.
I had to keep my composure. I had to make it through this day, at least.
"Tracey had a boyfriend that she kept from me—my boss's son, Kaleb, I believe his name was.” My jaw dropped open in astonishment. “When she started flinching away from me and became increasingly withdrawn, her mother and I tried to help her. The boy made Tracey go to the hospital and lie about her mother and me abusing her. We only wanted to help her." The fake concern in his voice sounded so legit that I almost gave up on this whole thing.
I was never going to be able to put him away forever.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around myself. My dad was good, I would give him that. I had never anticipated him using Kaleb to get out of trouble.
A few more questions were asked, and my lawyer went up to ask him the same kinds of questions. When I was called to the stand, I was light-headed, and I was regretting ever eating that morning.
"Miss Olive, you have made claims that your father has abused you, am I correct?"
I nodded my head. "Y-yes," I said, trying to make my voice come out strong, but it cracked.
"Miss Olive, were you scared of your boyfriend and therefore blamed the bruises and sexual assault on your parents instead so he wouldn't hurt you anymore?"
I shook my head. “I—I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend," I admitted. "I didn't have any friends. It wasn't allowed."
My lawyer looked at me with pity for a moment but quickly recovered his features. "Miss Olive, many children go behind their parent's backs and do things they're not supposed to. Would you categorize yourself as one of those children?"