The Expansion of the Universe

Fifty-Two | "What the Hell?"

Liza chewed at a flap of skin beside her thumbnail as she stared at Whitney's message on her computer screen.

Lawyer is working on no-contact order. I told him you wanted info passed through me, but do be aware that a video conference may be necessary for court appearance. Judge will likely want plaintiff statement.

She groaned, allowing her head to fall back against the couch cushion behind her. She'd worried that a court appearance—whether though Zoom, Skype, or similar—would be needed in order to successfully get a no-contact or anti-harassment order filed against Carson Pierce.

God, she wasn't totally confident in her ability to be present in a courtroom again, even if she technically wasn't in the building.

There were just so many bad memories from when she'd last been in court; seeing the faces of so many innocent people flashing on a screen, breaking down multiple times while attempting to read her victim impact statement, and spiraling into unconsciousness when they'd shown a video of the burning wreckage of the plane.

She shuddered even recalling it.

Still, she couldn't ignore the threat that Carson Pierce posed. While she felt that she'd given him enough to chew on with her words when he'd made his unexpected visit, she wouldn't put it past the man to get stupid drunk and show up with blood on his mind.

Her blood, specifically.

"This sucks," she grumbled, rubbing at her temples, exhausted. She missed Elijah.

At the very least, he offered a familiar, comforting presence that she could greatly use as she attempted to navigate the obstacle that Carson Pierce presented her. Plus, she would appreciate some of his humor to help break her from the depressing turn of thoughts that all centered around the exasperated question, Why can't I catch a damn break?

She decided to respond to Whitney later, not in the mood to continue thinking about what awaited her mental health if her mind remained on the topic of court and all its associated connotations for too long. Instead, she turned her attention to another message she'd received:

Hey now Tiny Its Austin Eli have me your number claws I as worried about you you good?

Of course Austin would be the one to forgo proper grammar and spelling in his text. She shook her head with an amused snort as she re-read the text and attempted to decode it. Knowing Austin, he probably used talk-to-text, or whatever it was called, and the poor phone could barely keep up with his accent.

Nevertheless, she did appreciate his thoughtfulness in reaching out. With a gentle smile, she sent him an assurance of, I'm doing fine, Austin, thanks. Is Elijah doing alright? He mentioned his dad was irritating him.

Not too bad but his dad is bean a real jerk and I think I night help Eli hide his body if it comes dawn to it.

"Wow, buddy," Liza mused to Milo, who peeked up at her from where he was dozing by her feet, "I think Austin's phone believes he's speaking in a different language altogether."

Milo closed his eyes and fell back asleep, apparently unbothered by this information. Liza shook her head, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she sent another text. Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?

Maybe Austin could suggest how she could help while remaining in her condo.

Bail us out after we get arrested tiny.

Or, Austin could suggest something ridiculous. It was rather funny that his phone had somehow understood his words perfectly this time, though.

Sure, Austin.