Court
Words Unspoken
"I didn't do anything to her that she didn't want! She was always saying, 'I want to be hurt, I want to feel youuuu...''So I gave her what I thought she wanted."
Daehyun's rage was at a high boil; he was barely able to sit still in the court-appointed chair.
Every word that came out of the er's mouth was like a drill to the ears.
He was trying to breathe, trying not to run over the defendant's chair and tackle him...
He was in pain from clenching his fists so tightly...almost the same way you had been clutching his ring that night.
The thought made him angrier...
He'd never hated a man so acutely before.
You reached over to his right knee, touching it gently
His brain stopped whirling and came back around, slamming back into his skull. He looked down at your tiny hand. You were comforting him and seeking it at the same time.
Soon after his idiot's testimony, it would be yours.
He knew you were scared, that delicate hand was trembling. Yet you were stronger than he ever seen you. After that day in the park, after he held you for hours. When his bones were frozen and your cheeks were red, he'd smiled and knew you were on your way back.
He didn't think that you'd come this far in such a short time. He admired the hell out of you. Calmly sitting there, waiting your turn to speak in front of this monster...
In fact, the subhuman was finished now. The prosecutor turned back to his bench, his eyes hard, his salt and pepper hair buzz cut short. Daehyun had talked to him with you before this day, researched his track record, told him everything he knew, and just hoped. He had liked him when he started talking to him. The man was powerful but kind.
You had responded to him, smiling gently under his hand on your shoulder, feeling good for the first time in months. He had seen bits of you coming back; you were joking with him again. He could have cried from relief.
You were so much stronger than him...
Your hand wrapped itself around his, fingers intertwining, and Daehyun rubbed your skin with his thumb.
The bailiff stood up, and Daehyun concentrated for a moment on the stenogrepher, who was typing away every word. He was amazed at how fast she could type; she was faster than some of his students at texting!
"Will the complaining witness please step up?"
You squeezed his hand almost painfully just before standing you, as the entire courtroom turned to stare at you. You had no concern with them, letting your hand linger until the last possible second with his. The prosecutor had advised you to wear something professional but soft when you took the stand, so the jury would sympathize with you.
Daehyun had gotten upset with this, angrily asking if your story wasn't enough. The man had smiled sadly down at him from standing at the other end of the table. He told them, that the jury was not as emotionally involved as he was. You need to look presentable, but not cold. So you had chosen a business suit, a short jacket of a soft cream, three buttons and a knee length black skirt.
He thought you looked beautiful.
But then again, he thought you looked beautiful sleeping on his pillow, your hair wild and your mouth wide open in sleep.
You took the stand and took a deep breath. First to question you was the prosecutor, and he faced the jury...
"Yes, the defendant and this woman were in love at the time, but there was no love at the end of this attack."
Forty minutes later, Daehyun was outside of the courtroom, vomiting into the toilet in front of him.
He was on his knees shaking. Gripping the side of the porcelain like it was his lifeline.
His eyes were tightly closed. He had barely gotten here in time. A pained noise escaped his throat and he leaned back on the door, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He couldn't hear any more. He knew you needed him there, but had to understand he couldn't hear all that that -up had done.
You had to go into detail where he'd touched you, how he had done it, how you'd felt what you had said...
The way your eyes darted around wildly, the way your voice trembled and the way you hand had shaken when you talked. He'd need to get out of there...
The air in the bathroom was canned and smelled of antibacterial soap, but it was better than the stuffy courtroom. He felt so badly, he'd have to explain himself when he got out of here.
If his legs would work...
They almost didn't carry him the few feet to the bathroom.
His throat burned, his stomach trying to fight him for another round.
He was done.
It was hard to think around the disgust and anger spinning around in his brain, the pain and the homicidal thoughts meshing together.
He breathed out loudly, the sound echoing off the walls, and banged his head against the door. It rattled just as the door opened to the bathroom. He didn't really care that they would see his jean clad on the floor, or the tail end of his blue button down shirt.
"...Hunnie?" Your soft voice burrowed into his ears and he perked up. What where you doing in the men's bathroom?
"...Yah?" He stood up shakily to his feet, and flushed the toilet. "What are you doing in here?"
You laughed lightly, the sound still sounded unsure, "I'm not inside, I'm by the door. You've been in here a while...I finished on the stand. We’re in recess now..."
He sighed with relief now, glancing at his watch.
Four thirty PM. A late lunch, but he figured he could find you somewhere to eat.
"All right, I'll be out in a minute. Close the door before you get in trouble." The smile was back on his face as he heard the door creak closed, your laugh following it.
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