BETHANY

11

Inside Courtroom Twelve

Courtroom Twelve was immense and filled with the entire jury, too many journalists for Max's liking ant the people accused in the trial against Jerome Flint and the Flint and Gray case. George David, Will Carter and Beth Wilson were absent. As was Quinn Wilson, but nobody needed to know that.

On the first day of a series of hearings, which would proceed for a week, Jerome Flint was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, his wrists tied tightly to the armrests and tow officers standing at his sides, on the chairs behind him, sat all the other people indicted in the case: lots of angry-looking girls and many young and old men whose names had been found in the registries. Gray was sweating like a pig and he was twisting his tied hands, as if trying to break free from his restraints.

Flint's eyes were fixed on Max, a slight sneer upon his lips.

Max's hand was on Darcy's arm. His sister-in-law looked remarkably like Quinn. She could have fooled anybody, even Max himself. She knew what expressions to pull, what movements she would have made and even the tone of voice that she would have used, had she been there.

Max moved his lips to her ear and murmured, "you should try to cry at some bits, I think, Darcy. Quinn would."

Darcy turned to look at him. "I don't think I will have to try very hard, Max," she murmured softly.

Max nodded gently with a soft, reassuring smile upon his lips. "I know," he whispered. "I'm here."

Darcy nodded and patted her hand on his arm. "Me too, Max."

~Scene Break~

"What do you want me to say?" Asked Flint, snorting. His eyes were boring into Max's.

"Just a plain recollection of the facts since the day you took Bethany Marie Wilson from her grandparents' house, Mr Flint," said Henry icily.

Flint didn't look away from Max. "Hmm," he said licking his lips. "I remember that day. That was the day I found myself a daughter and a little bitch to warm my bed night after night-"

"Mr Flint, foul language will not be tolerated in the courtroom," snapped Henry.

"I'm sorry sir," he sneered. "The first night Gray and I took her, she cried so much and so loudly that she almost defeated me. She was crying for her Mummy and her Daddy to come and help her. I can still remember her words as if it was yesterday..." He narrowed his eyes and broadened his sneer. "Daddy, please, Daddy help me..." He said in a high-pitched tone of voice.

Max closed his eyes as someone cried an epithet from amongst the crowd. Suddenly he could hear her too. Beth crying for him to help her as Flint raped her. His daughter crying for him. For him. For him.

Flint's vicious vendetta was not over yet. He was going to make Max suffer.

"Gray and I took her for the whole night," he continued. "She was so tiny. I had to force her to take the pill at the last minute, but I hardly think she could have conceived children at the time, she was so young."

Max opened his eyes as he heard Darcy crying next to him. He stretched an arm towards her and dragged her to his chest. "It's alright," he murmured mechanically. "It's alright."

It was not.

He knew that Flint had only just begun.

"I gave her a new name," he went on, "and a new identity and I brought her up as if she was mine. She soon forgot all about being dear sweet Bethy. And she was so obliging, so quick to satisfy my most perverse cravings, so perfect and polite." He smirked. "After all, Wilson had taken away all my money, I just wanted to take away something of his... And oh! I made her an expert in the art of-"