She walked closer, a bit too close to my liking. My already sweaty palms produce more and more sweat and I constantly whipped it away with my pants. My glance constantly shifted position, afraid of catching her hunting eyes. She was intimidating in her finest piece of clothing and with the intense ponytail.
She cleared her throat. "You said your father, my client, had abused you for five years.
"That's correct," I croaked and slightly covered my mouth.
"Why didn't you reach out to your family, 'cause you did live with more than just your father, am I right?"
"I was scared."
"Yes, you said that when Mr. Martinez asked, but I'm not asking the same as him. I'm asking why you didn't tell your family. Was there even something to be told?"
"I... uhm... I don't have the best relationship with those family members I lived with and my brother had left, so I guess I just thought my other family member didn't care."
"You guess? That's not good enough for me." She walked closed, keeping her arms tightly to her chest and her nose slightly lifted. I bit my lip and looked down at the table. "Why didn't you tell your family? Because you do love them, don't you?"
I clenched my jaw and looked up. "Of course I do!"
She smiled. "Then, do you also love your father?"
I opened my mouth, but there came nothing out. My body had shut down and I got thrown into a white room where only me and my thoughts. They circled around me, saying different things they wanted me to believe, but what did I really believe. Did I still love my father? Even after all he had done.
I shook my head and glanced over at Anthony. He had raised his hand to his mouth and was looking straight at me with no expression whatsoever. Nothing at all. My eyes traveled further over the audience. Every pair of eyes waited for my answer and I didn't know if I could give it to them. It was so hard. My father would always be family; my own flesh and blood. How can you not love your family?
"I... I... I," I mumbled looking down at the table again.
"You what?" she spat back at me with her harsh voice.
"I-"
"Objection, your honor. I do not tolerate my witness to be asked such questions in such manners. She has been through a lot and she doesn't need this!" Antonio stood from his seat and looked the judge right in the eye.
The judge nodded and shifted her eyes over at my mom. "Mrs. Watson, I ask you to be more polite and let her answer." She returned her eyes back to Antonio. "And calm down, Mr. Martinez, Mrs. Watson is also just doing her job."
"I will, your honor." Antonio sat down again, placing his hands on the table in front of him.
My mom cleared her throat again. "You were about to answer."
"Uhm yes." I took a deep breath. This was it. "I do love my father, however, the man who sits over there is no longer my father. As soon as he laid a hand on me, he ripped that title away from himself and he'll probably never gain it back. So yes, I love my father, just not the man he has become."
Mother lifted her eyebrows as she looked weirdly at me. "Huh?" She quickly shook her head when she heard her own words. "That was it. I do not wish to ask any more questions." My mother turned her back towards me and returned to her chair.
"Good, then let's proceed." I hadn't even gotten down to my seat before my mom stood again.
"I would like to call John Watson up to the stand," she said firmly and made sure she only got eye contact with the judge. I took that chance to hurry back in my seat. Mrs. Green laid a comforting hand on my shoulder as I sat down.
"Thank you," I mumbled, which she replied to with a smile.
"As you wish." The judge gave another one of her nods. I didn't dare look when my father walked up and sat. "Please repeat after me, Mr. Watson." My father nodded and laid a hand on the Bible there came in from his left. "I swear that the evidence that I shall give."
"I swear that the evidence that I shall give."
"Shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."
"Shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."
The whole court was silent as the judge opened her mouth to say the last part of the oath. "So help me God."
"So help me God." As the words left his lips, his eyes landed on me and stayed there, smirking. I couldn't look away. Our eyes were locked and I felt like I looked at myself, just in an older and male form.
"Thank you. You can begin now, Mrs. Watson." My mom nodded and walked a bit towards my father, who leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest.
"Have you ever raised a hand towards your daughter?" she said, asking the first question, which made me tense in my seat. Would he lie or tell the truth? What was their plan?
"No, I have never and will never raise a hand to my beloved daughter."
It didn't come as a shock. I knew he would never take responsibility for anything and especially not when it had something to do with prison. But still, something in my head stung as soon as the words had left his mouth.
"Then explain why your daughter says otherwise." My mom walked around, keeping her head turned towards Father.
"She is mad at me, because she blames me for Liam, her older brother, leaving. She loves her brother very much and would do anything to get revenge for what happened."
"So, you're saying that in reality, it is just your daughter who blames you for something because of something there happened five years ago. That's doesn't sound fair to me." My mom turns to look at the jury. "Does that really sound fair to you."
For a moment the whole courtroom was silent, even though we knew the jury wouldn't answer. They all just looked at each other, not knowing what to do with the strong woman there stared directly at them.
"Are you done, Mrs. Watson?" The judge broke the silence with her sleek voice. My mom turned to look at her.
"Yes, your honor. I'm done."
"Good, Mr. Martinez will now get the chance to ask questions to Mr. Watson if you desire too."
My mom sat as Antonio stood. I gulped a few times before Antonio opened his mouth, "I'll be glad to."
The judge nodded, which I had figured out had to be a habit. Antonio walked closer to my father, whose eyes followed Antonio very carefully.
"So, Mr. Watson, you are claiming that you're innocent."
"Yes, 'cause I am." My father's words where firm and believable if I hadn't known the truth.
"Then how do you explain all your daughter's bruises?" Antonio looked directly at my father, who didn't seem too nervous. They had planned something. Something there would shock us all.
"She is very clumsy and does fall a lot," he answered with a slight smile. "She has that from me."
I was about to throw up when he said that. From him? What the hell was he talking about?
"Why didn't you ever take her to the hospital, 'cause from what I've heard, it sounds like you love her very much."
I gulped.
"I wanted to, however, we did not have the money to pay for it."
Antonio lifted his hands to his chin. "You do know about providers and CareCredit, right?"
"Yes, but-"
"So, you actually had the ability and knowledge to get help for your daughter, but you refused."
"I didn't say tha-"
"Yes, you did. So tell me, why should I, why should anyone, believe that you're speaking the truth about loving your daughter if you didn't even care to treat her injuries, which you claim happened because of her being clumsy?"
"I love my daughter!" Father slammed a fist down on the table. "We just didn't have the money."
"That's weird, 'cause your wife is a successful lawyer and last time I checked, they get paid quite a lot, so tell me, how did all those money disappear?"
"We used them to pay the bills."
"Did you really have so many bills, that you couldn't spare to help your own daughter? Excuse me, but I do just not believe that, especially not when you're telling me how much you love your daughter. It just doesn't make sense."
"I..."
"You what, Mr. Watson. What did you really use your money on? Drugs? Alcohol? Everything else than your daughter's medical needs!" Antonio placed himself right in front of my father. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could imagine his eyes throwing flames directly at Father.
"Yes! Yes, I used the money for Alcohol!"
"And what about the drugs? Huh? The drugs you so gladly take in front of your own daughter!"
"Objection!" my mom screamed from her bench. Antonio didn't turn around, he kept staring at my father. I bit my lip until I could taste the blood and quickly covered my face with my hair. I could hear my heartbeat and my breathing was brisk.
"Denied," the judge said. "I want to hear this."
"So tell me, Mr. Watson. How many of your wife money do you use on your drugs and how many could have helped your daughter if it wasn't because it was you who had beaten her up?"
"I don't do drugs! I drink alcohol like most men do. Nothing illegal." My father had found his courage again and as talking with a calm, but a high voice. This thing Antonio was doing wasn't going anywhere, my father wouldn't budge. Not now.
"Then what about your daughter, if she really means less than alcohol, then maybe you do hit her. I actually think that you love your son the most, 'cause he is your son. The love a father and a son shares are special and I think you blame Nina for ripping it away. I don't believe she blames you for Liam leaving, I think you blame her. And that's why you hit her. Why you have abused her for five years. You took away her teenage years. You took away her world with your bare hands. And still, you're denying it. Pull yourself together and be a man!"
"I didn't raise a hand to my daughter. That's the truth."
I gulped hard, feeling the tears drip down my cheeks. Anthony turned around in his seat and looked at me. He didn't look happy and I understood why there was a chance the jury would take his side instead of ours. There was a chance.
I pulled my eyes away from Anthony and placed them back on Antonio, who tilted his head to the side, just looking at my father. "Are you done, Mr. Martinez?" the judge asked.
"Yes, your honor. I'm done." Antonio turned around and walked back to the bench. He didn't look my way. His eyes were stone cold like he had seen something there scared him or surprised him.
"Mrs. Watson, would you like to ask more question to John Watson?"
"No, thank you, however, I would like to say something else."
"Your request is granted." My mom smiled and quickly looked down at her papers as my father made his way back to the bench beside my mother. I warm hand placed itself on mine and I instantly know who it was. Mrs. Green.
My mom walked up to stand in front of the jury. "I know my client may have sounded like a heartless man, who has beaten his own daughter for five years, but I want you to know that this isn't true. My client is a good father, who has an alcohol problem because a dear thing got taken away from him long ago. Twenty-six years ago to be exact. It may have changed him, however, it did not make him a monster. It made him a warrier. For another twenty-one years, he pulled through and kept on fighting, until another dear thing left. His son and then he ended in a hole. But he has never abused his daughter and will never abuse her. Thank you for listening." My mom sat back on the bench, while my heart sat in my throat.
"We'll return in 30 minutes to continue the trial," the judge said and everybody started to stand.
What did my father lose twenty-six years ago?
...
I hope you liked the chapter,)
And I'm starting to hate John even more and that says a lot!