Maybe You'll Live For Me Sometimes- Adopted by the Killjoys

Part Seven

"Hey Adeline, I have some news," said Dad one day, leading me to the dinner table with our drinks. He had a concerned look on his face, like the news was bad.
          "What's the news? It seems like it's gonna be bad."
          He sighed and gave the news with a nod, "Blake is suing me for, what he calls, 'not allowing him to see you.'" He showed me a note that was on our door, which read, "Mikey, I am suing you for not letting me see my daughter. If you lose, I get her back. See you at the multi-purpose building for the court date in one week, bright and early- Blake."
          I couldn't help but laugh in uneasiness. "Really? That has to be a joke."
          "Really. Knowing him, he's probably not joking. But I hope he is. But after he agreed to a restraining order and to me adopting you... he does this."
          "Exactly. Honestly, I'm not surprised."
          "Me neither. But we will win this."
          "Absolutely. I thought things were going alright and that he was long-gone, but then," I started to mock Blake, "Oh I'm suing you for giving 'my' daughter a better life than I ever did."
          We both laughed for a minute at my imitation, then got back to being serious. "Right!? But really, this whole thing just proves further how dangerous he actually is."
          "Exactly. It makes me wonder if I'm not the only person Blake and Donna had tried to hurt.
          "I would not be surprised if we found that out. I hope we can get those people justice in the process."

We talked more about the case over dinner, and Dad pointed out that we would have to make an appearance in a courtroom, which the former BLI building's lobby would be set up to be.
          I had to face Blake again, my birth father who caused my C-PTSD and, countless times, punished me violently, whether it be physical, emotional, sexual, or a combination of them, just for being a kid. When all I needed was understanding, comfort, and kind guidance in the right direction.
          And I would have to face Donna again, my birth mother who sat back and let it all happen, even participating in it herself. The one who told me I should have died in those Fires, whose thoughts I still even today sometimes internalize and have bad days over. Both of them who hurt me, I'd have to see their faces. And there's a small small chance that they'll win the case and I'd be forced to live with them again.
          But I still have hope. Lots of hope that Dad and I will win. "We will do anything to make sure we win. No matter who the judge says wins, you are not ever going back with them."
I agreed with a nod and a smile. Hell, I would not hesitate to kill Blake and Donna myself if things got that bad. But the way to go about it in the courtroom? Professional disrespect.

A few days later was when I began practicing my words for the court day. Dad would speak for himself, I would speak for myself, Blake and Donna would each speak for themselves, and our case judge would rule to decide my fate. I never thought my life now after BLI had fallen wouldn't be what fun and normalcy I dreamed of it being. But here we are, still fighting. There is still hope that this life will happen.
          Over the week in between the announcement that there would be a custody battle at hand and the court date, I talked with both Dad and my therapist about how to handle facing Blake and Donna again. My therapist had been great at helping me build the courage to face them and in dealing with my mental health. All the while Dad was cheering me on and doing his part in helping with that in the way he could. Although I love Dad and would give anything for him, he's not exactly professionally trained to be my therapist; I'm glad he's honest and acknowledged that and directed me to this therapist in particular.

Too soon, the day came. Dad and I spent our days up until today together making good memories and the most of our time, writing songs and going out often. When I wanted to, I spent time with my best friend Vada. Those days of... normalcy? Those days with Dad, Vada, or both? They were some of the happiest days I've had.
          In the mirror this morning after I got dressed into a red dress, black vest, and black heel-boots, and put on red lipstick, I did some breathing exercises to calm myself and prepare to face them.