What to do now. *book two*

Is he a werewolf or not?

I took of my jumper and vest and I'm having a minor panic attack.

The officer is still reassuring me.

Micheal still hasn't taken his shirt off even though he's been asked to several times.

I sit down, my legs feeling like jelly and I close my eyes and try to meditate quietly to myself.

But i can't because there is still people murmuring amongst themselves.

So I begin counting quietly instead.

"Mr Clark." Judge Markus says, "if you do not remove that shirt, it will be removed by force."

Micheal stands there, frowning, as an officer removes his shirt.

"Not a bruise in sight." The officer states.

"And what about your legs?" Judge Markus asks, "any bruises on your legs?"

Micheal slowly shakes his head, not making eye contact with anyone.

"What about you, Mr Callas? Any bruises on your legs?"

"A... a few..."

The officer next to me carefully lifts my right arm to inspect it.

"are those ligature marks?" He whispers to me.

"I don't want to talk about it..."

"Is there something you two would like to share with us?"

The officer continues looking at my wrists, "any on your ankles or neck?"

He looks at my neck, "very faint on the neck..."

He then points at my feet, "will I find any on your ankles?"

I don't answer.

"Do you want to do this more privately?"

I nod.

The officer raises his hand, "your honour, is it alright if I take Mr Callas away for a little while for a bit of inspection?"
"Why?"
"I may find more evidence?"
"Okay. But be quick."

The officer hands me my jumper and vest and we go to a different room.

"Can I ask you to just stand over there please and remove your socks and shoes at the very least? And anything else you are comfortable with. Please do not feel that you have to remove your underwear, let's just keep this as professional as we can!"

He puts on some gloves and I sit down to untie my shoe laces.

There's a knock at the door.

"Yes?" The officer says.

"Um... this is live and being shown in the courtroom."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"Right, okay. And were we asked about this first? I think not!"
"Where are you from?"
"Southern California. Why?"
"I thought you were from Texas."
"Uh huh. Bye now."

The person leaves and he closes the door.

"Live? Bitch, were we asked?"

I shake my head.

"No. Exactly."

He sighs.

I'm now just stood here in my underwear.

"Why someone would hurt a precious flower like you, I don't know. How many relationships you been in that are like this?"
"Most of them."
"Shit. Doesn't always end with a court case though, does it?"
"No. This is the first time this has happened."
"Oh. That's... good then, I guess?"

He looks me up and down, "this is a lot of bruises! What, this guy just jump on you all the time or something?"
"Not all the time."

He looks at a bite mark on my shoulder, "why is there bite marks everywhere too? Is Mr Clark a werewolf?"
"I don't think so. I was with a vampire some time ago though and it turns out he just used me as a blood bag and didn't love me and I tried to kill myself and succeeded and then I was basically cursed by the king of purgatory to never die again."
"Shit. I am so sorry about that."
"Yeah... it's okay now."
"Okay. So why does he bite you?"
"If I do something he doesn't like, or when he's trying to... you know, and I don't want to, and I'm trying to get away, he'll bite me because it hurts. It's basically his way of saying if you don't do what I want I will hurt you."
"Damn! And he ties you up too?"
"Yep."
"Man, I feel sorry for you. How long you guys been together?"
"Ten years."
"Ten years!? Of that? Shit, that's crazy."

He kneels down slightly, "I'm noticing that there's a lot of groups of bruises on the insides of your thighs near your crotch."

"He... uh... likes to... grab me... in those places... and squeeze when I piss him off."
"My god."
"Yeah, I can't remember the last time I was in a loving relationship."
"You do not deserve any of this, kid, you been kind to everyone your whole life, I am sure! All you get in turn is abuse and unkindness and unfaithfulness. It's not fair. It seems you got bad luck with picking the wrong guys every time."

I look at the floor, "yep..."

He continues to inspect my body, finding different types of bruising, more bites, scars and cuts and scars on my arms and ligature marks and eventually I get to put my clothes back on and we go back to the courtroom.

The other officer then takes Micheal out and finds no bruises whatsoever.

When he's back, the judge looks at Micheal, "so. You've been abusing Mr Callas for ten years straight, and they haven't called the police on you once.  Yet they give you one little slap on the cheek for being disloyal and you decide to drag the whole thing to court? What did you think you'd gain out of this? I want an honest answer, now."

Micheal frowns.

"Where you expecting money? Yeah, good look with that. A, you were just slapped and Mr Callas here has suffered your force and rath for ten years."

"Can I not even sue him for slapping me!?"
"You can. And I can decline."
"WHAT!?"
"I Can decline your request to sue Mr Callas here. Mr Clark, I have found you guilty of physical abuse and I-"

I'm suddenly on the floor and there's hands around my throat.

I'm not really aware of what's happening but I know that Micheal is holding me down and screaming into my face.

His knee is pressing against my stomach and he's hitting my head against the floor and I'm spitting out blood and he puts his whole hand on my face and all I can hear is a loud ringing in my ears.

He's eventually pulled off of me and I scramble back holding my throat before I bump against someone's legs and then I pass out...