Ethereal Love (Book 2 LS Series)

Chapter 52

Skipper's POV

My breath freezes in my windpipe, and the world around me seems to blur. The noise in my ears spirals and echoes, until the voices of the mass amount of people around me is nothing but white.

Camera flashes blur into camera flashes, the faces of all the reporters surrounding and following us on the path up to the courthouse seem to melt into one. They all want the same thing: to know the girl who murdered the 'big bad wolf' of the broadcasting business. And my dreams, but they don't understand that part.

Fear is the only emotion I am not numb to. It claws at the edges of my mind and rises up the back of my throat, threatening to spill into the outside world.

I want nothing more than to go home, change into one of Michael's big t-shirts, and cuddle with him while watching some slasher horror film (Michael's choice). But I can't. I am here, on the verge of being ridiculed for my very necessary actions against a psycho of a man. I am also, quite frankly, on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Daddy walks close by my side, an arm strewn over my shoulder for reassurance. Unfortunately, it's not enough. I told Michael to say home -a decision I am starting to regret- because I didn't want him to have to hear what I have to say about this. It's already bad enough that my father is here with me.

"Keep your eyes down," Daddy softly reminds me. His breath tickles my ear.

The reporters seem relentless, calling both of our names as we approach the dreaded glass doors. We push through them, and heat fans across my face. Heat from fear and embarrassment also radiates across my skin.

The hall smells of stale coffee and copy paper as we head down, looking for the appropriate court room. The cameras follow all the way.

We approach a set of light colored wooden doors with the American seal of the bald eagle painted across them. The eagle's eyes are black and beady, burning through me, taunting me. Someone pushes the doors open, and for a brief moment I can see through them.

I can see the stony faces of the jurors, the harsh features of the judge's face. I can see the stand waiting for me... I can see my doom. My vision seems to distort, my mind is doing cartwheels, I am reeling.

I can see the reporters begin to pour into the room, but I can't. My feet are rooted to the ground outside of the room, and they refuse to carry me inside. As everyone else enters the horrifying room, Daddy hangs back with me.

"What's the matter?" He murmurs. The doors shut firmly, and I take a huge breath. "I don't... I can't... I..." My voice is weak and flustered, and it makes me sound like a dying cat. "What?"

"I don't wanna do this," I finally manage to squeak, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek to avoid tears. "I can't do this." His shoulders sag a little, and his eyes are soft and somber as he places both his hands on my shoulders. "Yes, you can." I can tell he's trying to be strong for me, but it's not going to work. His eyes shine with faux confidence. At least I think it's fake.

"Daddy, I-" "No," His voice is forceful as he cuts me off, "I am sure of it. You're my girl. And you're strong. And you're innocent." I let my head drop with a pathetic sigh. "How do you know that they'll believe me? What if they don't? What if they take me away forever and then-"

"Stop talking like that." He almost snaps, with eyes half lidded. "You go in there. You tell the truth. You'll be fine." His voice is softer than flannel now. "Okay." It's all I can muster.

He envelops me in a warm and fatherly hug, and pulls away all too soon with a kiss on my forehead. "I believe in you," He adds, before I force myself to square my shoulders and ignore the rising tension in my chest. "Right." "You ready to go in?" He places his palm flat against the smooth wood of he doors. "Wait!" I call out before he pushes it open.