Pierced (Lucian & Lia #1)(52)
Finally, he expels a breath and kisses me hard on the lips. His kiss conveys his frustration, but the gentle touch of his finger stroking my cheek infuses me with strength. I can do this; I have been through worse in my life. In a few hours, Lucian and I will leave, and it’ll be finished. Looking back later, I will realize that believing anything that involves my mother and stepfather could be simple was completely naive. I should have known better.
Max leads the way into the courtroom, stopping by a bench on the front row. “I’ll sit first, then Lucian if you’ll come next and let Lia have the end.” No doubt, he’s afraid I will fall on my face if I have to climb over them when my name is called. We settle in just as he requested, and Lucian clasps my hand once again. I look around the room, thinking it looks exactly like something from Law and Order. When I make another pass, a woman at the table directly in front of us is staring at us. Shock waves roll over me as I recognize my mother. Her blonde hair is now a dark brown, and she looks fifty pounds smaller than the last time I saw her. Her face is hollow and her body almost emancipated. She looks like someone fighting off a horrible disease.
“Mom?” I whisper, still in shock at the woman looking back at me. She turns fully in her seat, her eyes sliding over me and then taking in Lucian, who, as if sensing a threat, has stiffened beside me. I hate I even cared enough to ask, “Are you all right? You look…”
Her dull eyes seem to suddenly sparkle as the familiar look of malice takes over. “That’s real nice, Lia. You take off years ago; don’t say a word about where you are, and now you’re insulting me. Still just a spoiled brat.” I sit there gaping at her then wonder why she still has the ability to surprise me. Have I not heard some version of this crap my entire life? Beside me, Lucian’s face has reddened, and he looks very close to completely losing his cool. I put a restraining hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. I needed him, which means he has to keep it together. I need to show him I can handle what my mother is dishing out. I don’t need him to fight this battle; I’ve done it my whole life.
“Mother, I believe we both know I didn’t take off; you kicked me out on the street. And in order to be a spoiled brat, I would have had to be given something in life, and you made sure that never happened.” When she would have interjected, I keep going, not giving her time to interrupt. “Now, you want something from me. That’s rich, Mother; it really is. I should have went with my first inclination and let them lock me up before helping you in any way, because you never helped me a day in my life.”
If the whole white-trash drama that has just occurred wasn’t so damned sad, I would probably laugh. She stares at me with her mouth hanging, unable to come up with anything. I have never dared talk back to her, and she is stunned silent. God, if only I had known that years ago, I might have saved myself a lot of abuse. Lucian’s big body has relaxed slightly with my words. I was scared he would think me a horrible person for talking to my mother like that, but a quick look at his face seems to show equal parts amusement and pride.
“You ungrateful bitch,” my mother hisses before someone at her table shushes her. She gives me a look that promises retribution before turning in her seat without another word.
Lucian leans down to whisper in my ear. “So, I guess we aren’t hosting a Mother’s Day lunch this year?” Since his words carry over, both Max and I are struggling to cover our mouths and choke off our laughter. Lucian, as always, understands exactly what I need; instead of coddling, he has given me comic relief. Just another thing about the man that is impossible not to love.
As quickly as the smile had come, it is wiped away as my stepfather walks into the room. He hasn’t been able to raise the funds for bail, so he has been held in custody prior to today. Instead of the prison-orange I expected, he is wearing a cheap-looking blue suit. Unlike my mother, he looks much the same. Jim Dawson is what some would consider handsome, but to me, the cruelty in his eyes has always been obvious. He always made my skin crawl, and today is no exception.
Court is called to order as the judge enters the room. The case information is read off and before I know it, my name is called. “The court calls our first witness, Lia Adams, to the stand.” Lucian’s hand tightens around mine before releasing it. I fight the urge to run the other way. Instead, I take a steadying breath as I walk toward the front. I am sworn in and seated in the box next to the judge.
The first series of questions are establishing my relationship and other superficial information. I shift uncomfortably in my wooden chair, feeling the pressure of being the center of attention. “Miss Adams, has the defendant Mr. Dawson ever struck or physically assaulted you?” Even though I knew the question was coming, it still drives the breath from my body. My eyes fly to Lucian who gives me a nod of encouragement.
“Yes…both.”
“Miss Adams, could you be more specific as to the nature of the assaults?”
I moisten my suddenly dry lips and clasp my hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. “He…slapped me, choked me, kicked me and…burned me.”
“Your Honor, I would like to admit into evidence Exhibit A, showing a scar on Miss Adams’ back from a hot iron.” Color stains my cheeks as the photo is handed to the judge. Max had arranged for someone from the district attorney’s office to come take the photo at Lucian’s. I was extremely grateful it had been a woman; something about a man other than Lucian seeing my shame is almost too much to bear. “Miss Adams, can you tell the court how you came to have this scar, please?”