Pierced(62)

If the whole white-trash drama that has just occurred wasn’t so damned sad, I would probably laugh. She stares at me with her mouth hanging, unable to come up with anything. I have never dared talk back to her, and she is stunned silent. God, if only I had known that years ago, I might have saved myself a lot of abuse. Lucian’s big body has relaxed slightly with my words. I was scared he would think me a horrible person for talking to my mother like that, but a quick look at his face seems to show equal parts amusement and pride.

“You ungrateful bitch,” my mother hisses before someone at her table shushes her. She gives me a look that promises retribution before turning in her seat without another word.

Lucian leans down to whisper in my ear. “So, I guess we aren’t hosting a Mother’s Day lunch this year?” Since his words carry over, both Max and I are struggling to cover our mouths and choke off our laughter. Lucian, as always, understands exactly what I need; instead of coddling, he has given me comic relief. Just another thing about the man that is impossible not to love.

As quickly as the smile had come, it is wiped away as my stepfather walks into the room. He hasn’t been able to raise the funds for bail, so he has been held in custody prior to today. Instead of the prison-orange I expected, he is wearing a cheap-looking blue suit. Unlike my mother, he looks much the same. Jim Dawson is what some would consider handsome, but to me, the cruelty in his eyes has always been obvious. He always made my skin crawl, and today is no exception.

Court is called to order as the judge enters the room. The case information is read off and before I know it, my name is called. “The court calls our first witness, Lia Adams, to the stand.” Lucian’s hand tightens around mine before releasing it. I fight the urge to run the other way. Instead, I take a steadying breath as I walk toward the front. I am sworn in and seated in the box next to the judge.

The first series of questions are establishing my relationship and other superficial information. I shift uncomfortably in my wooden chair, feeling the pressure of being the center of attention. “Miss Adams, has the defendant Mr. Dawson ever struck or physically assaulted you?” Even though I knew the question was coming, it still drives the breath from my body. My eyes fly to Lucian who gives me a nod of encouragement.

“Yes…both.”

“Miss Adams, could you be more specific as to the nature of the assaults?”

I moisten my suddenly dry lips and clasp my hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. “He…slapped me, choked me, kicked me and…burned me.”

“Your Honor, I would like to admit into evidence Exhibit A, showing a scar on Miss Adams’ back from a hot iron.” Color stains my cheeks as the photo is handed to the judge. Max had arranged for someone from the district attorney’s office to come take the photo at Lucian’s. I was extremely grateful it had been a woman; something about a man other than Lucian seeing my shame is almost too much to bear. “Miss Adams, can you tell the court how you came to have this scar, please?”

Again, I look at Lucian as I answer. “My mother and stepfather were arguing. I was doing the laundry and couldn’t get out of their way fast enough. My mother left the room and I…he was really angry. He took the iron from my hand and tore my shirt. He put the iron on my back and said: ‘Cows are always branded so they know who they belong to, and you’ll always belong to me.’” Even from across the room, I see Lucian flinch. I have never gone into all the details of what had happened to me, and I realize I should have before today. Regardless of how humiliating this is for me, it’s inexcusable that I haven’t prepared him better for what he will hear.

The knot in my stomach had started to loosen slightly when the question I had been dreading came. “Miss Adams, did Mr. Dawson ever sexually assault you?” I knew the DA’s office already had this information from my deposition, so it’s only reasonable they would go over each point for the judge. Unlike my other answers, I can’t look at Lucian when I answer this. Why didn’t I tell him? God, how could I just let this hit him now? I focus on the paisley pattern on the prosecutor’s tie and strive for calm.

“In ways, yes.” From the corner of my eye, I see Max grab Lucian’s arm, trying to settle him. Before the prosecutor can ask me to clarify, I continue. “He came into my room for months at night. He…he would choke or hurt me until I took my clothes off.” I hadn’t even realized that tears were tracking silently down my face until one splashed on my hand. “He would touch me with one hand, while…masturbating with his other.”