Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Amazing

"I see." The lawyer paced for a second. "And did you do anything to cause the beatings?"

"Excuse me?" Mik snapped. "Are you asking me if I think I deserved to be beaten?"

"No, not at all. I'm asking you if there were triggers."

Mik's eyes slid over to the table where her father was still sitting, tensed and looking quite prepared to jump up and attack, even if they were in court. "Well..." she floundered, "... there was alcohol.. if he drank. Once he was drunk... it could be anything.... If I broke something, or the house wasn't clean enough.... Talking back...."

I could barely hear the last part, and she listed a few things after that that I couldn't hear at all. The lawyer, apparently, wasn't done there.

"Would you mind describing for us one of his episodes?"

And here it was- the deer in the headlights look. The one that showed quite clearly that she would rather take another beating right then and there than answer the question. "Umm, it's... Usually, it.. he comes home late." she mumbled, eyes glued to the floor. "I don't know why. I don't know where he goes. To the bar, I suppose." she batted her eyes, swallowed hard, took a deep breath. "Well, he comes home, and I- I do something, I don't know. I- I drop something and make a m-mess, or I don't... don't clean up well, or- or I... I don't know. I get him mad.." She batted her eyes again- trying to prevent the tears from taking over. "Then his face turns red- bright, bright red. And he shouts. Usually... usually he swears at me. And then, of course... the b... beating. Wh-whatever's in his hand... a bottle, once, a broken one... broomstick, sometimes just his bare hand. D-doesn't matter. Leaves bruises anyway. S-sometimes cuts. He d-doesn't stop till I cry. A-and sometimes, when- when I've gone up to my room, he'll, he'll follow me, and- and, and lock the door..."

Her voice broke there, and without being dismissed, she got up, kicking off her shoes, and ran out of the courtroom. Meggie got up too, and went outside after her.

There was a pause. Miss Boswell glanced at the door that Mikelah left through. "Shall... we continue?"

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Mik POV:

"Mikkie?" Meggie called, and I heard her footsteps approaching. "Mik? Are you in here?"

"No." I mumbled from inside the bathroom stall. Meggie walked up to the door, and after hesitating, I opened it and stepped out.

"Mikkie, honey, are you okay?" she asked, and scooped me up in a huge hug. I sat down on the counter. It was big enough to hold me.

I wiped my eyes. "Y-yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?" she pressed a little harder, looking straight at me with that soul-searching sort of look. I nodded.

"I couldn't handle it, okay? It was just, my dad watching and I don't know, I've practiced the story a million times and I just cracked under the pressure and..."

"I get it." she said. We sat down for some time, while I waited for the anxiety to die down.

"Meggie, do you want to talk about something?" I asked her. Meggie gave me that look she uses sometimes.

"Me?" she snorted. "I'm not the one who just ran out of the courtroom crying." She elbowed me in the ribs.

"I just need a minute." I then tried to give her my best soul-searching look in return. "But I don't think you're okay. What's bothering you?" 

And then I saw her attitude change. She looked away. She squirmed. "It's nothing." she mumbled, and the blood rushed to her face.

There it was. Her mom. All of us 'knew about it', in the most basic sense that you can use the term 'knew', but she had never, ever, spoken about it. Not even, I fear, to her dad. Not even when she just went and cut half her hair off and we pushed her as hard as we could to get her to admit that it was a problem for her. Meggie was the strong one, the balanced one, the one we went to when we had a problem, not the other way around. "Meggie, I'd hate for you to think that you have to repress your problems just because I have stuff going on. If you keep pretending everything's okay, I'm going to assume that's what you're doing and feel terrible about myself."