Screaming in the Silence (19 page)

"Why not?" I laughed, not expecting the kiss to mean anything.

Jackson smiled and took me in his arms, the grin never leaving his face. I kept my eyes open for as long as I comfortably could, knowing very well what would happen the second I closed them. This was Jackson, my old friend, my ex boyfriend. But as soon my lids had shut, Kaden was there. I could smell the cinnamon, I could taste him, I could feel him, I longed to be lost in him.

Kaden's lips moved with mine, the familiar sensations exploding back. He held me close and I could feel his arms flex to pull me against his chest. I ran my fingers through his dark hair and felt my knees go weak as he lightly bit down on my lower lip. I kissed Kaden for I don't know how long. Certainly we were on display, certainly my friends would see what I was doing. But I didn't care; I missed him so much.

When I finally opened my eyes, it wasn't Jackson's big brown eyes that I saw. It wasn't his boyishly handsome face or his auburn hair. It was Kaden, his fierce green eyes, his strong jaw, his broad shoulders, his angular face and his jet black hair. I took his hand and led him through the party, out into the cold winter night. Kaden took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

"Thank you," I smiled at him.

"You're welcome."

He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and leaned down to kiss me again. God, how I loved him. I put everything into that kiss, wanting him to know that, even after all these months, I still wanted him, I still wanted him to need me. I wanted him to understand that I had been surviving without him, unwillingly but surviving nonetheless. I wanted him to understand that I had forgiven him. I wanted him to know that I hadn't chosen this life and if I had a choice, I would decide against it.

Kaden seemed to understand. He kissed me as if we had been apart for years instead of mere months. He held me as if he didn't want to break me. But suddenly our kiss ended and he swung me into his strong arms. I laughed. and he carried me across the lawn and into the pool house.

It was dark inside the small house and Kaden didn't bother turning on the lights. He set me down and we stumbled through the darkness until we found a couch. It was small, far too tiny for us both to fit comfortably, but at the moment, we didn't care. I relaxed onto my back and waited for Kaden to join me. Before long, I felt him above me. His chest was bare and I ran my hands over his skin. He took his time undressing me, exploring my body. His kisses were gentle, his touch was sincere but I could feel his desperation. We both knew that we didn't have much time together.

We made love that night, first on the couch and then again on the floor, everything about our intimacy seeming desperate yet needed. It felt right yet entirely forbidden. I curled up next to him, the clock on the wall reading 3:47 am, and he wrapped his arm around me.

"I've missed you so much," I whispered to him.

I didn't open my eyes to see if he offered a response. I wanted to believe that he felt the same way. I wanted to believe that he had told me he loved me, that he would never leave me again. I fell asleep feeling that my dreams had come true.

In the morning, Kaden was gone and Jackson had taken his place. I woke up to a loving kiss on my shoulder and when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were the couch legs. I knew, at that moment, I hadn't made love to Kaden. I knew that I would roll over and Jackson would be the one saying 'good morning.' But it had seemed real. I had needed to be with him and my mind had allowed me to do just that.

Reluctantly, I turned over so I could face him. His auburn hair was a mess and his eyes lookedl tired. I had to smile.

"Sleep well?"

I nodded, still tired myself. "You?"

A yawn escaped his lips. "That was some kiss last night, wasn't it?"

I laughed out loud at his sarcasm. "This is awkward now, isn't it?" Losing him as a friend wasn't catastrophic. We had grown apart since he had been married and only saw each other at random birthday dinners and the occasional engagement party.

Jackson smiled and shook his head. "No. I think it was something we both needed."

He couldn't possibly know how much I had needed it.

"Probably not the best or most responsible idea we've ever had," he added. "But certainly no harm done."

I smiled at him and kissed him quickly on the lips. "Thank you."

He brushed a stray curl behind my ear and held my face in his hand.

"Come on," he said eventually, his smile still relaxed and genuine. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

We spent the rest of the morning sitting in a diner, dressed in our formalwear, laughing as friends.

I stepped through the doors and looked around the crowded courtroom. I gazed at the floor beneath my stilettos as heads turned toward me. I could picture the other members of the gallery whispering to each other about me. I knew exactly what they were saying. I walked to the second row, my father's hand on my back, Samantha's arm linked with mine. 'What is she doing here?' 'Is she going to testify?' 'Why would she want to see this go down?'

And I had answers to all of these questions, though I doubt anyone would believe them. I would testify, not because I had been called to do so, but because Ray deserved whatever punishment the jury decided to mete out. I wanted to witness this trial so I could learn the truth. But above all, I was here to see him. I didn't know how I would feel; I didn't know what I would do, if I would react at all upon seeing Kaden. But I needed to see his face. I needed to know that he was real.

Justifying this need was another matter entirely. I had argued with myself for hours, scolded myself because I knew it was wrong, worried because I knew there was a strong chance I would just end up hurting worse than I did before. What if he didn't acknowledge me? What would happen to me if Kaden acted like the monster everyone believed him to be? Part of me wished that would be the case. It would knock down all hope that I had built, it would nearly kill me but I would recover. I would admit that I was crazy to fall in love with him, that my attachment to him was merely a defense mechanism. I would learn to live with my shame and in time I would move on.

But what if the opposite happened? What if Kaden turned out to be exactly the person I believed he could be? If that were the case, I wouldn't be able to let him go. The idea of him, the hope of something better, it would surge in my head and my heart and I would risk losing both to a man who I couldn't have. I knew myself too well to deny that I would fight against either of these reactions, the good or the bad. I could learn to live with Kaden, a dark shadow in the back of my mind, or I could wrap myself in the daydream, the one where we were together and happy, where I needed him and he wanted me. The line between right and wrong had been erased the moment Kaden forced me into his bed and, even if I had a choice between the light or dark path, I would never be at peace.

My father's hand directed me down the row of chairs directly behind the prosecutor's desk. During the first stages of this process, my father had encouraged me to press charges. I had declined, and my lawyer had agreed with me. North Carolina had already taken care of charges. And, of course, it would look incredibly strange if I pressed charges against only one man instead of all three. I hadn't been notified of Kaden and Marshal's trials. They were over in a matter of minutes, both men pleading guilty. For Marshal it was kidnapping and accessory to vehicular manslaughter. Kaden pled guilty to the same charges with the additional count of rape. Neither man had anything to lose by copping a plea, other than Ray's good favor. My father suspected they had struck a deal with the state to lighten their sentences if they testified against Ray. I supposed we would find out soon.

I sat on a long bench inside the courtroom and stared at the ground. I didn't know when or if I was going to see him but that didn't stop my mind from wandering back to our time together. With Kaden I never would have worn such high heels. Barefoot and hardwood floors suited me better than black patent leather stilettos and patterned tiles. I remembered how he had carried me up the stairs so effortlessly, how he had held me in his arms and kissed my temple, how he had pushed the hair from my face after we made love so he could look at me.

I felt Samantha's hand on my arm and my attention returned to the courtroom. As I saw Ray enter the room, I realized I had been smiling. But upon seeing his face, my smile quickly faded and a wave of panic crashed over me. Had he always looked so terrifying? His round face looked hardened, his eyes defensive and volatile. He towered over the two guards who were escorting him in, his shoulders wide and his posture assertive. His gaze swept the crowd until he found my face, his thin lips stretched across his filthy teeth, his eyes narrowed. I felt his breath on my face, smelled the stale rum, tasted the blood that had spewed from his tongue. I felt his hands on my chest, his legs wrapped around me to keep me in place.

I didn't want to show weakness, didn't want him to see that I was still terrified of him, but I had to look away. I turned toward Samantha who was clutching my hand in support. Our eyes met and I could see she was equally as terrified.

"That's him, isn't it?"

I inhaled sharply. I knew that Samantha was referring to the man who she believed had hurt and raped me. But Ray wasn't that man.

"No," I whispered and her face betrayed her confusion.

"Are you scared?"

I was. "Yes."

"We can leave if you want."

"No," I said quickly then tried to smile. "I need to do this. Please. Please stay here with me."

"Of course," she returned my forced smile and squeezed my hand.

We both stood up as a female judge entered the room. Ray really didn't stand a chance. I could feel eyes on me but I focused on the judge and the interpreter my father had hired to sit next to the clerk. I wouldn't miss a word unless I wanted to. I glanced at the jury, many of whom were trying their best not to get caught staring in my direction. They had been picked well. Not one of the male jurors was below the age of forty and if I had to guess, I would say nearly all of them were fathers. The women were a little more diverse. At least two looked to be under thirty and all of them appeared strong-willed, not scared or apprehensive of the process they were now a part of.

The lawyer's opening statements went much as expected. The prosecution horrified the jury with an incredibly accurate, incredibly descriptive narrative of the night I was taken. They painted a picture of filth and sorrow with Ray as the ringleader: his prior offenses, his known deviant behavior. The motive, as I am sure my father noticed, was not as clearly defined. The prosecutor mentioned ransom money and insinuated that Ray was driven to rage by a twisted longing for his dead mother.

Ray's lawyer put on an even better show. He promised the jury he would blow away the prosecutor's smoke screen. He reminded them of what his client was on trial for: vehicular manslaughter, murder and kidnapping - the first in no way premeditated, the second a false accusation and the third an act of deception, not on Ray's part but on his so called friend's. And desperation. Desperation? Ray didn't know the meaning of the word. Desperate was being locked in a basement with only a bowl of oatmeal to sustain you. Desperate was being held against your will for an indefinite amount of time. Desperate was falling in love with a man who you knew to be absolutely wrong for you. Desperate was not being able to see or talk to this man because he was in jail for the very thing that brought you two together. Ray didn't know desperate like I did.

And then it happened, the moment I and everyone else in the courtroom had been waiting for. I was called to the stand as the first witness. The victim in cases like this is, I suppose, expected to help the prosecution's case by looking pathetic and hurt, suffering and confused. But for me, I felt as if most of those things were in my past. I was still confused, of course, confused by my feelings for Kaden. but I no longer felt pathetic or hurt. My suffering was almost over.

So I stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt. Up until this point, I hadn't felt any physical sensations. Now I felt it all: my tweed skirt scratching my thighs, the silk of my blouse smooth on my shoulders and chest, my curly blonde hair tickling the back of neck. The leather binding of the Bible against my palm as I took my oath was soft and warm. The wooden chair felt hard against the back of my legs as I sat down and faced the audience.

Hundreds of eyes were focused on me and I stared back defiantly. I knew what the prosecutor was going to ask me and I knew the answers I was supposed to give. But what had Ray told his lawyer? Those questions were going to be the defining moments of my testimony, my unpracticed responses, my raw answers.

Slowly, the prosecuting attorney, a younger man with an expensive suit and trendy eye glasses, stood and approached me, a casual smile on his face. "Hello, Ms. Winters. How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Evans."

"Ms. Winters, I'm going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer to the best of your ability. Do you understand?"

"Clearly," I answered with a smile. He was trying to show the court that my physical disability wasn't a mental one. I understood the necessity of this, but it still infuriated me. I wish he had been direct.

"Can you please tell me what happened to you on the night of September second?"

I sat up straight in my chair. "We had spent the day at the beach near Southport…"

"Can you please tell the jury who you were with?"

"Julie Walters."

"Please continue."

"Julie and I had spent the day at the beach near Southport and when it started to get dark, I suggested we head back to the road and try to catch a ride into town. We hadn't been waiting too long before a car spun out of control and hit us."

I paused, not remembering what details I had been told to leave out and which to include. I waited for a prompt from the lawyer.

"How much of the accident do you remember?"