Harry
I sat there, in the air-conditioned court room, watching Emma finish giving her testimony. Her eyes were still a tad red from crying, but no one should be thinking less of her for doing so. What Emma had shared had to have been hard for her to talk about. I could see it in her demeanor that it was.
And what she had spoken to the jury, and every person in this room, shocked me. I never fathomed how bad things had been for her. I never believed something like this could have happened to a girl like Emma. She had seemed so unaffected by it when I first met her, besides the not opening-up-to-new-people thing she had going on. Emma carried on almost like it never happened, managing to keep her secrets well hidden until that fateful day at the beach.
It kind of hurts me to think that if Emma had never fallen off of her surf board and hadn't been unconscious, I might not have ever known the whole story. She may have chosen to share it with me on a later date, but that is a huge maybe.
By now, Mr. Grangerford was annoying the piss out Emma, and she was close to letting him have it. It's quite funny to watch honestly. If only the judge hadn't warned Emma with a stern voice, it would have been interesting to have seen where this would have gone.
"Is that all?" Emma asked Mr. Grangerford, blatantly annoyed by his continuation of questions after he had said he was done.
"For now," he answered her question with a twisted smirk on his face as he turned away from her and the judge.
Mr. Carmichael, you may now do your questioning," the judge announced. "Miss Sanders, you may step down if Mr. Carmichael has no questions for you."
Emma looked at Carmichael with a worried look. He nodded his head, presumably, to reassure her that everything was alright and that she could go back to her seat. She sighed audibly and stepped down, quickly making her way back to her chair. Her crystal blue eyes met with mine for only a split second, but it was long enough for me to see some minor relief wash over her. For her, I believe the hardest part was over.
"I would like to call Justin Harper to the stand," Carmichael spoke clearly.
"Proceed," the judge nodded in approval.
Justin stood up beside me, taking a deep breath. "I figured this would happen," I whispered under his breath. He swore the oath before taking Emma's previous seat.
"Mr. Harper, can you explain to me the extent of your injuries the day Mr. Schroder attacked you?" Carmichael asked Justin.
"At the end of the day I had two broken ribs, three fractured ones, a fractured clavicle, a broken nose, severe black eye, broken jaw, and a swollen bottom lip," Justin replied slowly as he recounted the memory.
"Did you at any point feel like your life was in danger before Mr. Schroder pulled out his gun?"
"Yes, I did. He may look scrawny, but he's stronger than he appears."
"What about after he pulled out his gun?"
"Of course I felt like I was in danger. He never pointed it directly at me, but it's that feeling in your gut that you get. That 'what-if' question; 'What if he kills them, and then me?' "
"Do you believe he would have, had he not run away right after shooting Emma and her father?"
"Absolutely."
And that's how it went. Carmichael would ask questions that would help the jury come to the conclusion that Vick Schroder needed to be locked away in jail for the rest of his life. Then, when Carmichael was done, Mr. Grangerford would ask his questions. In all honesty, I didn't pay much attention to anyone but Emma.
She was sat in her chair and the majority of her time she spent looking at her hands, which were placed in her lap. Sometimes she would lift her head up and listen to Carmichael, or if I was lucky, she'd turn to look at me for a quick second. Once, I caught her shifting her eyes over to where Vick sat on the other side of the room. He'd had his eyes on her nearly the entire morning. My gaze followed Emma's and shockingly enough, I found Vick was staring directly at me. There was a confused look in the back of his eyes as his eye brows pulled together slightly. But we were all snapped out of our little, trance I suppose you could call it, when Mr. Grangerford called Vick's name.
"Mr. Schroder," Mr. Grangerford asked. "Would you please go up to the stand?"
"Sure," he replied, his voice deeper than what I had imagined.
Vick stood up from his chair and walked up to the bailiff, the clinking of his metal ankle and handcuffs making the loudest noise to be heard all morning in the quiet court room.
"Now, Mr. Schroder, can you help me understand why things happened on December 23, 2012, the way they did?" Mr. Grangerford asked in the most amicable tone of voice I'd ever heard him use.
"I was trying to protect Emma," Vick answered simply. His eyes danced between Mr. Grangerford and Emma.
"From what?"
"From that scumbag she was with."
"Was he going to hurt her?"
"Yes, he was going to break her heart. I was only doing what I could to protect her."
"So then why did you fire your gun at her father?"
"It was a misfire. My finger wasn't even on the trigger. My hand was shaking and I suppose something clicked or moved and made the gun go off."
"Was that the first time or second time?"
"Both times, actually. I had bought the gun at an unreliable pawn shop."
"I see. Had you used it prior to that day?"
"No, I had not."
"So you had no idea that the gun might misfire?"
"No idea whatsoever."
"You never had the intention of hurting Miss Sanders or her father, then?"
"Absolutely not. Emma is the love of my life. I could never hurt her intentionally, and when the gun went off and she was injured I blamed myself. If I could have just controlled my anger a bit better she never would have been hurt and her father never would have died. I never intended for anyone to die that day, especially the person whom Emma held closest to her heart. I know that I have caused her an unforgivable amount of pain, but I would do anything in this world to make it up to her."
I looked away from Vick as he continued to answer Mr. Grangerford's questions. How could he sit there and lie about everything? Well, I s'pose it's what he chooses to believe is the truth, but that doesn't make it any less than one big fat lie. And what he is saying is hurting Emma.
Looking at her, she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, staring at her fidgeting hands that rest in her lap. Even from where I am sitting I can see her eyebrows are pulled together and she is trying her hardest not to cry again. As if she could sense my gaze, she looked over her shoulder at me. She released her bottom lip and stared at me, pleading with her eyes. Emma was struggling to keep it together and by the looks of things, she wouldn't be able to last a mere five minutes longer.
The sound of a mallet pounding on hard wood tore my attention away from Emma.
"If that is all, the jury will now leave to go and discuss their decision about the fate of the defendent. We will readjorn then. You are dismissed," the judge spoke sternly before she stood and left the room.
Emma didn't waste a second to stand up tall and swiftly walk out of the room and into the hallway I had already once followed her out into. For the second time now I ran after her, this time it was slightly more difficult as we weren't the only ones leaving the court room. When I finally made it around the small crowd of people it wasn't hard to spot the tall, slender blond who was silently having her second break down of the day. And something told me it wouldn't be her last.
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter :( I just wanted to update. So I hope you enjoy. If you like it, let me know with a cute little comment please? And maybe a vote? :)
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