With Love, Étienne | ✓

Chapter Thirty-One

TRIGGER WARNING: THERE IS A BRIEF DESCRIPTION AND MENTION OF S*XUAL AS*AULT LATER ON IN THE CHAPTER. IF THE TOPIC IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE IN ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN A STORY AND PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES. I LOVE YOU.

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IT WAS NEARLY TIME. 

The day we had all been dreading was only a few mere moments away from starting. To my side stood Louella and her parents -- both of whom were already in tears. Their sobs filled the small waiting room and they were gripping each others hands with all of their might. I observed them from afar, feeling my heart break for the couple. All three of our families had been close, and now we were pitting against each other. The news was sprung on them so suddenly, but Louella had no choice other than to finally break to them the horror of what had happened. Her mother and father's eyes were red-rimmed and no amount on consoling from Louella or I was helping calm them down.

In the grip of silent panic, my eyes kept flickering up to the clock, watching it tick by. Everything seemed to slow down, like I was in some weird, alternate universe. Louella was breathing in and out at a rapid pace, but her breaths sounded shallow. Within moments, she started to pace up and down the room and I could almost hear her racing mind.

"Everything will be fine," I leaned over to whisper in her ear. I placed a comforting hand on Lou's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "You've got this, sweetheart. I believe in you. No matter what happens, just know I love you and that I'm so proud of you for doing this."

She tried to strain her vocals but nothing came out. Instead, she settled with a simple nod, and clasped her hands together in front of her. I knew fear must have been engulfing her conscience. She was going to be forced to face the man that ripped apart any bit of life she had - who took away her innocence without asking or without any kind of regard for her well-being. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling or what emotions were running through her.

"We're all going to be right here for you, okay?" I murmured.

Her mother, hobbling closer to us, nodded in agreement with me. She clasped her daughters hand with a fresh layer of tears and sniffled.

"We love you so much, darling," she wiped at her eyes, "Whatever happens today, nothing is going to change that fact."

"I know," she nodded, holding back her own tears, "I know."

"It's about time to head in," her father said; his voice gruff. I could see the sadness swirling around his eyes and I knew he was trying his  hardest to muster up a smile for his daughter. Even I wanted to show her that I could be strong - even if I wasn't feeling it.

Louella inhaled one last sharp breath and her hands trembled as she reached towards the door knob. She paused for a moment, blinking in rapid succession. She seemed frozen, too scared to open the door and face what was on the other side. Her head fell forward and rested against the wood. My hands itched to reach over and comfort her, but I didn't move. After a few minutes, she lifted her head and tightened her grip on the knob, twisting it at an agonizingly slow pace. There was a noticeable difference in her breaths as they quickened into pants. There wasn't a single sound as we stepped inside the courtroom. The room wasn't as big as I imagined it would have been - but a part of me was also terrified of how close Milo and Louella would be.

As we were directed to our seats, my eyes gazed around everywhere - taking it all in. Despite the warmth, the hairs on my arms were rising and small goose-bumps formed on my skin. I squirmed when we were brought to the very top of the court room, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Everything was too surreal now and even though I had prepared myself countless times for this moment, nothing actually prepared me for the moment Milo walked in the two front doors. They banged open with a frightening sound and a cleanly dressed Milo was brought in. He was followed by his lawyer, who gestured for him to take a seat opposite to us. He was suited up, and I didn't even remember the last time I had seen Milo in a proper suit. Everything about his appearance was fixed to perfection -- his hair, clothes and facial expression. It was all too fake.