Bad Dreams //mgc

68.

*Michael's POV*

This is it. If I'm dreading it this bad, I know Cara's a wreck. She's keeping herself collected on the outside, but the fact that every few minutes she takes a deep breath and exhales slowly means she's freaking out. I feel so helpless. I can't think of anything to say to help her that I haven't already told her a hundred times. I need to give her something small that she can hang onto, since I can't hold her. Oh! I have an idea! We have to leave in a couple minutes so I gotta go quick. I run into the bedroom, open her laptop and find the picture she took during Long Way Home, where I was winking at her, and quickly.print out a small copy. While it's printing, I dart to the shed and grab a handful of my guitar picks, putting them in my pocket. I run back in, quickly cut the picture to size and we file into my car, heading to the courthouse. Ashton and the others arrive moments after we do. Before we go inside, I take Cara's hands.

"You are one of the strongest, bravest people I know. You can do this angel. I will be right behind you. I cannot sit with you physically, but I'm still by your side," I tell her as I give her the picture I printed, then pull out two picks from my pocket. 'You got this. Since I can't hold your hand, you can hold something to remind you of my hand," and I place the picks in her hand. She starts to tear up. I pull her in for a Mikey hug and she squeezes tight. "I love you angel. You got this." We head inside.

****
*Cara's POV*

Here we go. This is it. I can do this. I can. I know Michael is sitting right behind me but it's hard without his touch. I play with the picks in my hand and glance at the picture. He's winking at me, the assurance I need. I got this.

Trevor walks in behind the baliff and he glares daggers at me. I get shivers down my spine and feel Mikey rub my arm quickly from the seat behind me and Ashton's hand on my shoulder momentarily. They're behind me literally and figuratively. Trevor is trying to intimidate me. But I refuse to let him. I play with the picks, spinning them around each other in my palm. Deep breath.

The judge walks in and we rise. So it begins.

Both sides make their generic opening statements and the DA starts to call witnesses. I know I'm going to be first and then recalled last, the DA told me beforehand. I'm freaking out inside.

I get sworn in and take a seat. I'm shaking bad and look to Michael. He winks at me and nods once. He's telling me I can do this. I'll be fine. I'm asked to tell the events I first could recall. I am squeezing the picks in my hand so hard I'm sure I'm going to have a triangular bruise on my palm soon. I admit to blacking out and explain my avoidance of him afterwards. I keep my gaze on Michael as much as possible and he does not ever look away. The DA includes questions about the longstanding relationship I was in at the time, to strengthen my "character". Then comes the memories. I explain how the "dreams" started exactly the same each time, gaining more and more recollection. I had to be extremely detailed especially when it came to the part about him forcing himself inside me. Every word spoken, every kick and scream, every thrust described. I was in tears by the time I finished. To make matters worse, Trevor's attorney got to cross examine me immediately after. He asked about my illegal drunken state, my lack of memory, my lack of confrontation and asked about my dreams. Not recollections, bad dreams in his persistence. I knew what he was trying to do and rather than making me question myself like he wanted, I found myself gathering strength from it. I stood my ground and kept the focus on the facts, no matter how he tried to twist them. After I was released from the stand, court was recessed for the day and the judge left the courtroom. I immediately turned and clung onto Michael for dear life.

The hardest part was behind me.

*Michael's POV*

While Cara was on the stand, I kept my eyes on her and did not let myself look away. I needed her to know I am right here for her. I could tell she was playing with the guitar picks and could tell when she was squeezing them as if squeezing my hand. Her hands were hidden from sight, but I know her body language.

When she was asked about him entering her, it took every ounce of strength I had to keep focus on her and not go beat the living hell out of that cocky bastard on the other side of the room. I hated how detailed and descriptive she had to be, but I understand it was to prove not only force, but that it was a memory and not just a dream.

The defense attorney was a worm. He tried so hard to turn it around on her, to weaken her credibility. But he underestimated my angel, he and Trevor both. The more he tried to turn it into a dream instead of a memory, the stronger she became. I could see the determination in her eyes. Instead of weakening her, his word play strengthened her. And I couldn't be more proud!