The Ferrari made him happy. He decided to go for a drive in it, while I opted for a rest. I hear a knock at my door. I get up to answer it. I’m dressed in street clothes from the walk, so I’m not concerned about my appearance. I ask who it is, but there is silence. The peephole is covered so I can’t see who’s outside. It has to be Scott. I open the door and to my horror it’s Michael!
He stands there staring at me, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asks darkly.
“How did you find out we are here,” I ask startled to see him is an understatement. “Scott’s going to be back any minute! Did your father pay your bail?”
He pushes me aside, to come into the room “I paid my bail, silly girl.
You know it’s all about money with the courts, don’t you?”
He’s dressed in a Hugo, he’s clean-cut, and smells of his favorite aftershave. He grabs me roughly by the nape of my neck and pulls my face to his, shoving his tongue into my mouth. He starts sucking hard on my tongue as I fight to push him away from me. He tears the clothing from my body with animalistic roughness, biting at my neck, ears, and breasts. He draws blood in some spots. He rips his pants off in record time before pulling mine down and then shoves himself into my soft folds. I screamed for help whimpering, I keep screaming, this time I can hear myself and I struggle flailing my arms and legs. I can feel my body being squeezed and I’m shaking, “Open your eyes, open your eyes” keeps being screamed at me.
I forced myself to listen to the command and fight to separate my eyelids as the voice demanded. I become aware of Scott leaning over me, fighting to keep me still. It must have been another nightmare. I’m dripping with sweat. All I remember was Michael trying to rape me again. I cry with relief when I realize Scott holding me. My body is still shaking with the terror that hasn’t subsided.
“You are broken,” he observes. “Michael’s truly destroyed you.”
He stays with me in bed the majority of the day stroking and caressing me, trying to keep me comfortable. We only getting out of bed to eat. Scott never leaves my side after that. Scott is trying to save me from the damage Michael inflicted. It feels like just as I take one step forward with the trip, then I fall two steps back with a stupid nightmare. We leave Owerri to spend precious time with our moms. It will be the last time Scott ever sees his mom. He is stoic in his grief as it happens shortly after the trial begins. I attempt to be that shoulder for him I so desperately want to be, and I am.
The morning of the trial, I dress in a navy blazer, a starched white blouse, and a skirt that reaches my knees. The prosecutor informs me that the image I portray may impact the outcome of my trial. Scott, Tammy, Justin, and I hire a cab to the downtown courthouse. I’m nauseous from nerves. We have previously discussed televising the proceedings as part of our show. I plead with Justin and Scott not to but no censoring wins and if I can help one-person argument… Our cab pulls up to a sixteen-story silver building in the middle of downtown Owerri. The car slows to a stop, and my horror, we are greeted by paparazzi as I exit the car. I hold my head high and wait for the others to join me before entering the courthouse, cameras and shutters are going off all around us.
“Are you going to testify, Isabella?”
“Can you give us a statement?”
“Is it true you were sleeping with Michael Anderson?”
“Are you back with your ex now?”
“Have you had sex since the rape?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Who’s baby is it?”
It is a relentless barrage of questions from every angle. The last one was jumping the gun.
Scott speaks up for us, like he always does, “Sorry, we’re going to be late.
We’ll make a statement after the trial. Thank you.”
Flashes distract us, but a little opening does part for us so we can continue making our way up the stairs. We slip through the glass doors and go to security for directions to our assigned courtroom. When we get to the courtroom the prosecutor pulls me away from Scott and Justin, closing the half door separating us from the front section of the courtroom. The prosecutor offers me a chair next to his and whispers, “You will be sitting here for the duration of the trial. I’m going to put you up on the stand, so the courtroom has an inkling of the damage Michael’s caused.”
“I’d rather not,” I say firmly, but he doesn’t care at this point what I want, it is what is in the best interest of the case he’s presenting.
I look back into Scott’s eyes, which buoyed me with courage. He is sitting directly behind me as I whisper back to the prosecutor. My stomach is doing backflips knowing that any moment Michael is going to be walking into this courtroom. The trial is supposed to start momentarily. The double doors burst open behind us and the sound of paparazzi chattering ricocheted into their courtroom. Michael stands in the entrance larger than life. His piercing gaze catches my attention immediately and holds it. All the progress I made, suddenly vanishes.