I'm Done Running

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2 Months After massacre

I tried to absorb every word that left my father and Raymond. They'd been speaking nonstop for the last twenty minutes, caught in one another's crossfire of words, before they'd retreat back and let the other speak. By the time we were ushered into the courtroom my brain was so busy trying to wrap itself around all that'd been said that I didn't budge until I heard Attorney Steele from the prosecution stand say, "I'd like to call to the stand, Ms. Everly Rodgers."

The astonished gasps and weak, muffled cry of my mother followed me all the way to the stand, my eyes trained on Judge Montez straight ahead to keep myself from looking to Clark at my right.

The Bailiff looked to me as I approached, "Do you solemnly affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Lifting my right hand, I nodded and managed a quiet, "I do."

As soon as I had pulled out the chair, Judge Montez, looking up from the stack of files before her, said, "Please state your name for the court and spell your last name for record."

Swallowing hard, I touched my hand to the microphone only to have feedback echo through the room. Once I'd fixed it, I leaned forward and said. "My name Is Everly Rodgers. Last name R-O-D-G-E-R-S."

Judge Montez didn't look up this time. "Mr. Steele, you may proceed."

I watched Attorney Steele step out from behind his podium and parade his way toward me at the Witness Stand. His dark eyes softened a little with every step he took in my direction. "Just to state before the court and have on record, Ms. Rodgers, you are the younger sister of Clark and Franklin Rodgers, correct?"

Hearing Frankie's name sent a icy shiver straight down my spine. "That is correct, sir."

"You lived with your brothers in your home in Lincoln Heights, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

Attorney Steele stopped a few feet in front of me and said, "Given that you were in their presence daily, did you ever notice anything concerning about either of their behaviors?"

Before I could find it in me to speak, my eyes flickered to Clark at the Public Defense table. Unlike the last time we'd all been in this court room, he wasn't a slouched mess, but had sat upright, tense, and was watching me with an undecipherable look in those cold eyes. Just looking into them had my left hand curling into a fist.

"Yes." I managed to force out, tearing my eyes from Clark and looking back to the lean, middle-aged man before me.

"What was that?" he repeated, and I faintly heard Judge Montez say something about the microphone through the slight buzzing that had started in my ears.

I adjusted it once more and louder said, "Yes, their behaviors were concerning."

"It says here that Clark was suspended fifteen times between the beginning of his Freshmen year and the end of his Senior year. Is that correct?"

Though I'd never counted, that sounded about right. "Yes, sir."

"And these were on accounts of violence, correct? Fights, arguments, disagreements."

"Yes, sir."

Attorney Steele began to retreat back toward his podium, but asked, "Ms. Rodgers, do you remember where you were the morning of May 28th?"

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