Collateral Damage

Play – Fable – Gigi Perez’

W e eventually arrive with half an hour to spare, walking inside to find a seat and my nerves are spiking. I’ve not been around this many people in almost a year and I was never good in crowds, which makes this even worse when I can feel everyone's eyes on me like a fish in a tank. Her mom holds my shoulder gently, caressing the fabric of my top to let me know she's here and it’s comforting. It makes me sad to know how horribly Kacey speaks about her mother sometimes. She’s been nothing but an angel.

“Miss. Blackthorne. Please. Follow me.” An empathetic smile graces me as my lawyer escorts me to my seat in front of the judges stand, still empty and I sit, trying to chew on my anxiety but my lips are bruised and raw. I don’t know how long this will take, but the officer who interrogated me is on the left side of the room, glaring at me with darkness behind his eyes that sends chills down my spine. I don’t even know exactly what I’m going to say but the cycle of child abuse ends today. I will serve her justice. With or without her here. This is the right thing to do. For her and millions of other kids suffering. If I end up behind bars, so be it. But logistically they have nothing on me. I should be ok. Right?

Ten minutes go by and the court room fills up with strange faces. People who have simply come to watch and it bothers me, as they all gawk at the back of my head, shuffling to their seats. I suppose they are expecting to hear me break and admit to something I never did. I can tell by the funny faces I’m getting, no one in this room is feeling empathy or remorse for my disappearance and pressure builds in my chest, gripping on my heart, trying to control my nerves that have my leg shaking.

Breathe baby. In and out with me. Like we practised.

Her voice echoes through me like voices in an abandoned manor as I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining her pressed against me to slow my heart rate and it’s working as I concentrate on the movement in my feet. I’m in control. Fighting to hold back more grievances.

The judge finally enters and the room falls silent as everyone raises to their feet, so silent you could hear a pin drop, making me hold my breath.

“Please be seated.” He orders, and he doesn't waste any time.

“Alora D’arcy Blackthorne, age nineteen, birthday the fourteenth of February, year nineteen ninety. Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” I glare at him, nodding as I pick at my fingers.

“Yes, your honour.”

“Am I correct in saying, you have been missing since the thirtieth of October two thousand and nine?” Has it really been that long? It seems like only yesterday I went missing, even though when I was stuck in that house the first few months felt like years and then it went by too quickly. What is forever when you lose your forever in someone.

“Yes, your honour.”

“And you have been held against your will since this time by someone you had no affiliation with until your abduction?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“According to many officers as witnesses, you were seen infiltrating on the day of her arrest. Is that correct?” I breathe in sharply, trying not to shift my focus to the hundreds of eyes on me but I have to be honest. That is why I am here.

“Yes, your honour.”

“And can you tell me why you tried to get in front of a gun to protect your kidnapper?” His words take me back there for a moment as the bullet ricochets in my ears, ringing with white noise as I stare into the void. “Miss. Blackthorne?”

“Because she did not deserve to die.” I blurt. And I don't have to see my lawyer to feel the disappointment in her face as she rubs the bridge of her nose.

“By this statement, I'm going to assume you were romantically involved with Miss Moore. Is that correct?” I can feel the judgement seeping from the audience, already disgusted by the question as I hold my head up and take a deeper breath.

“Yes, your honour.” An array of gasps and low whispers stretch across the courtroom and I clamp my eyes shut trying to block them out. Trying to remember I'm not here for me. I'm here for her. This is all for her.

“I have your journal here that has been analysed in great detail. Am I correct in thinking you were sexually and intimately involved with Miss Moore?” My shame expands and I suddenly feel so small, afraid to look at anyone but the judge who doesn't seem to be too patronising, easy on his words with me.

“Yes, your honour.” Not only was I sexually intimate with my kidnapper. It was a woman, and I can feel the judgement pounding the back of my head.

“And do you understand why you are in court today?” He asks gently, holding my journal in his hand.

“Yes, your honour.”

“Can you tell me why?” I can't exactly be angry at a judge if they don't have the correct information. It's the CPD I have issues with. They are the ones breaking rules and not sticking to their words.

“Because you think I was somehow aiding her criminal activity.”

“And were you?” He says it without judgement, letting a tiny sincere smile slip from the corner of his lip, like he already knows I was never a sinister part in any of this.

“No, your honour.”

I startle at the abrupt reply from beside me at the man I have no recollection of. He’s in a dark suit and slicked back hair. Not as pristine as Hays though, and I turn my nose up at him as he forces his voice to us.

“Objection! Miss Blackthorne went missing the week her parents were reported missing, only to be found without a scratch, sharing intimate moments with the criminal your honour. That leaves suspicion!” I kiss my canine underneath my lip in irritation. I know this is his job but the way they think I look like I'd even be capable of having a hand in my parents deaths sets my blood on fire.

“I had no hand in my parents’ death, your honour. I found them dead before being attacked in my own home the night before Halloween.” I bite, trying to contain my obvious frustration. I don't want to show too much, or it could show signs of guilt.

“And you are not aware why they would have spared you?” He collars and at the time I did not. But now I do.

“I am aware, your honour. Everything is in that book. Maybe things that were perhaps missed.” I say coyly. They are asking me questions that are all clearly in my journal if they look hard enough.

“You said that Miss Moore did not harm you, is that correct?” I don't think I ever mentioned the basement in my journal. But even so, that was personally inflicted.

“Yes, your honour.”

“So how did she get you out of the house? Are you saying you went willingly?” It would be easier for them if I agreed but I didn't and I will not give them what they want to hear.

“No, your honour. I was drugged from what I can remem-” I jump as the man beside me almost shouts over me, grinding against my thoughts with his raspy tone.

“Objection!” The judge does not look amused, silencing him with just his index finger as he lifts it in his direction, still heavily set on me and part of me feels grateful to have someone that will actually listen to me.

“Please. Continue.” He coaxes me, asking me another question respectfully.“Is there a reason Miss Moore did not harm you?”

Because as much as she hated to admit it. She had a bigger heart than she liked to let on and somehow, I ended up loving that about her. Tapping into that hard exterior was an achievement for me.

“Because she is not a monster, your honour.” I say softly and disagreement echoes through the crowd like my words are blasphemous.

“Were you aware of the number of victims she killed?” Fourteen. But that was when she told me. From what I can remember, I don’t know how many were after that.

“Yes but I only knew the number, not whom or how your honour.” I talk calmly, trying to get my words out.

“Did that not frighten you?”

It should have. At first it did, slightly. But for some reason when she told me, it didn’t exactly shock me. Maybe I’ve watched too many documentaries. Should I have been frightened? Shown weakness? Given her a reason to retaliate? Would she have, if I had? I don’t believe she would have. I rammed a knife into her hand and she ended up wrapping my harm where I clipped my own flesh. What about that should terrify me?

“If I am to be truthful, your honour. I am more terrified of the monsters that walk among us in plain sight than I was of her. I trusted she would not harm me, even with blood on her hands. She never gave me reason to fear her, she only ever tried to make the situation more comfortable for me, your honour.” I explain, swallowing my absurd words slipping from my mouth knowing how absolutely ridiculous I sound right now. I know I do, and maybe I am just as to blame. Maybe I’m crazy, but her devotion to take a life in order to protect mine didn't scare me at all. I’d never felt safer in her arms.

“From her long list of victims, I find that hard to believe. I’m curious to know why you do not think she was a threat.” I feel my eyes welling, sucking them back in with a sharp hitch in my breathing. This is it.

“Do you know why she killed my father?” I ask with a little more confidence filling my tone. Knowing that most people in this room did not do their research before prying on an innocent girl.

“Records state they had relations, ye-” I respond abruptly, cutting him off without meaning to, but he doesn't seem annoyed, only raising his brows in surprise, almost prideful.

“Because he killed her mother.” Neither are alive, so speaking these words is a little easier on my heart knowing I won't have to face any of them tomorrow. Maybe I shouldn’t visit the afterlife just yet. I don’t particularly want to be hounded in hell. Even though I know she’ll be there waiting for me.

“Objection! Detective Blackthorne's demotion from CPD was due to self-defence. The woman he murdered was justified.” Justified? The woman? I try to hold back a scoff at the disrespect alone dripping from his mouth as he raises his voice sharply, slamming his papers against the desk and the judge does not seem to want to entertain his temper.

“And I bet that is what Miss Moore’s killer also claimed, don't tell me.” I face my left to look at him scowling at me so I scowl harder, standing off to him. I won't back down. I finally have a voice. I finally have control and I quite. Like. It.

“Would you like to elaborate?” the judge asks curiously, as if he himself is interested in this new take on their web of lies.

“Mrs Moore's murder was intentional. By my father.” I explain, feeling slightly guilty that I'm dragging my father through the dirt but it's about time people knew the man he was. The man he kept hidden, even from me. A man I am still furious at for keeping me locked away for his own selfish reasons. A man I no longer recognise.

“Are you telling me that your father killed Mrs Moore with ill intentions?” He questions, furrowing his brows as he leans further over his table. We all know she was accused of being mentally unstable on the day of her death.

“ Yes . Your honour. And he breached case laws by investigating undercover, involving himself romantically with her mother in hopes to uncover her husband’s death.” If Hayden was alive right now to hear me she would probably break her jaw with anger. But she's not. It's me and I'm done doing what everyone else says anymore.

“And why do you say that?”

“Because my father believed Lillie Moore was the cause behind Richard Moore's disappearance.” He gazes at me, bewildered as we hold a strangely understanding stare before being interrupted.

“Objection! Mrs Moore went for Detective Blackthorne!” He's really starting to get on my nerves but my nerves are sucked out of me as the Judge raises his voice abruptly.

“ Silence !” He ushers me to carry on, nodding his head for me to speak, and I can feel my tears crawling up my throat just thinking about my next words.

“Mrs Moore would not move, even after my father threatened to take her life, she pleaded for him to listen and he did not. He ignored her and he fired. Straight into her heart.” I clutch my arms, looking at my lawyer for support, meeting her comforting gaze as she rubs my arm delicately.

“Is this what Miss Moore informed you?”

“Yes, your honour,”

“She saw everything. She died in her arms. And my father lied to get out of jail time, where he ran with me. To Indiana.” Only now is everything making so much sense. The day she told me it was still so chaotic, I was so angry that it was all a blur, I never sat and processed it properly but thinking about it now, he did run. He seemed frightened for a while. Nervous, constantly checking over his shoulder. Paranoid, until he met my stepmom.

“Were you at all aware of your Fathers involvement in this?” Part of me wishes I had known but it would never have changed anything. And he would probably have lied to me too, so I guess not knowing at all was better than living through his deception and suffering for it.

“No your honour. Not until I was informed by Miss Moore.” Her name is bitter in my mouth, hard to say, hard to swallow, tasting like liquor you want to sink in but it burns the back of your throat as you indulge in it. All I want to do is wrap my arms around her but I glance down at my hands and for a moment my skin is tainted strawberry red, her redemption smothering me, bleeding out on the matted carpet, imbedded with her soul as I shake my head to release me of my hallucination.

“And because of this you believe it was justified? Even though it was your father and your mother?”

Is it wrong of me for saying yes? My mother not so much. But if I was never in the picture, I guess her death makes sense. She was also collateral damage my father caused. It was inevitable.

She was fuelled with vengeance; she lived off it. It’s what kept her heart beating when she wanted to give up. The love she had for her mother ran so deeply she would kill for her and she did. The way she did it for me. The way I feel she would do for anyone she loved. But where do we draw the line when we are robbed of everything we have? When is it truly acceptable to take a life?

“I believe it was justified. But it was not ok. She was failed by the system, your honour. But she did everything she could in the time that we had to try and make things right.” I squeeze my nails into my flesh, trying to keep myself grounded but all I can picture is her skin against my fingers as I listen to my favourite song, singing from her chest. She was finally letting me in. We were finally getting somewhere.

“Please elaborate.”

I look up at him, feeling sweat smothering my lower back and I don’t know why I am so nervous to tell her story when her trauma isn’t exactly new, it was just overlooked and forgotten, so I suck in a deeply shaken inhale and stand straight.

“Hayden was abused by her father for years, beaten and tortured, silenced . Not only her but her mother also. And so, she took his life to protect their own and was thrown behind bars for six years, charged with involuntary murder because she had no voice in the courtroom to defend her side. Because my father killed her only family. In a room full of people who preach the safety of women and children. People who were meant to be there for her and her mother and listen to her words when she explained why she took a life. Yet my father walked free because he claimed self defence, wearing a badge? What part of that is justified? Because he was a cop he got privileges? No one ever took Hayden’s allegations against her father seriously after his death.” I can feel anger spilling from the tip of my tongue, my words heated and swollen with bottled up hatred as I suck my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

“You have to understand it was her words against your fathers.” He exclaims, and I shake my head in disappointment, hoping he would realise what stupidity just came out of his mouth.

“What does that tell you, your honour? Power has priority. My father lied through his teeth whilst Hayden rotted in a cell for six years. Tell me, would you settle for that? Will you silence me now because I have no one to speak for me? If my father told the truth would the consequences be reversed? Would my father pay for the death of Mrs Moore? Would he be plastered all over the news and called a monster? Or would that ruin their reputation?” I ask, waiting for a response I know will never satisfy me as I hold my chin up high, proud that I’ve left him, dare I say speechless and there is not a peep from my audience.

…

“We understand this all must be difficult for you-” he speaks slyly, trying to change the subject but it’s too late for that now, I’ve found my feet. My Voice. I can smell justice.

“Please do not belittle me. She took the lives of monsters as horrid and as ruthless as her father. Cases turned cold by CPD, cases that could be protecting children like her. She was doing what you could not do. Is that a villain? Or a hero, your honour?” I glare at him before turning to face the room of strangers, totally taken by my words. Their jaws are hanging low, gawking at me in disbelief and I feel prideful.“Our system claims to be heroes, to keep us safe, to save lives but they didn’t save hers or her mothers. Yet they were both punished. She stood in front of me to try and save me from making the same mistake her mother did. She blamed herself every day for not intervening and stopping it where she could. She was never going to hurt me. She was trying to save my life before the CPD opened fire on me. The people of this city, sworn to protect us. Is that a monster? Or a saviour, your honour?”

“Objection your honour! She aided in the death of a man that was stated in her journal!” he spits, and I can almost see his hackles up as he stares me down, feeling almost pitiful that he is this naive to his cause.

“A man that was going to rape me your honour. Again , she was saving my life. I never aided in her behaviour, she had let me walk free that day but if she hadn't stepped in, I would most likely not be here today. And it would not have been by her hand. Where do we draw the line? Where is death acceptable? Because from where I'm standing, murder is only acceptable in the eyes of the law. So they can reap the reward of being a hero when really, some are monsters walking amongst us and don’t deserve their badge.” I exhale my trapped anxiety, feeling a little lighter now that I’ve got that off my chest, and faces are beginning to change. Understanding. Sympathy. Whatever I’m doing seems to be working.

“Do you believe her sins were redeemable?”

Eight months ago, I would have said no. Out of hurt and spite. But I had the same urges to kill when she took my life from right under my feet. I wanted to make her pay, make her bleed. Hell, I thought about all the gruesome ways I could take her life. And then I realised, it’s natural to feel like the only solution to your pain is to eradicate it. But who's to say it works? Will it make you feel better? Will it bring them back? No . But for that single moment, even only for a little, vengeance can take a form so hungry for blood you’ll do anything to get rid of that hole in your chest. Even if it means taking someone else's life.

“I do your honour.”

“Objection! How do we know any of this is the truth?”

I roll my eyes heavily, like a loose cannon before the judge leaves me speechless.

“Because she has no reason to lie, and everything she speaks she’s documented inside this journal.”

My lip parts, letting out a gentle breath as a tiny smile tugs at my lip, feeling my dimples form in my cheeks. “Correct your honour.”

“Do you believe she had changed?”

The lump in the back of my throat grows, struggling to form words as I recall the last night we spent together. Knowing that the woman I was looking at was not Hayden anymore. It was Hayley . She was in there somewhere; I just had to find her and bring her back to me. She got so close, so fucking close until this fucking storm pulled her under.

“I do. She was just broken and needed to see that life was not as mean as it had treated her. All she knew was pain and suffering, your honour.”

“Very well.”

“Objection. Murder is murder. She murdered in cold blood, no matter the reason, she still took multiple lives! Miss Blackthorne clearly needs to be aided by a professional psychiatrist. She is only nineteen and has gone through something no young adult should endure. Who’s to say she was not brainwashed? Drugged? She is clearly unwell. She was fornicating with a killer, your honour!”

He clasps at already cut strings and the voices behind me get louder. Whispers stretching across the length of the room but somehow, I just know they are no longer for me.

“But it was ok for my father to kill an innocent woman on the wim that she was guilty? Was it ok for an officer to open fire on Miss Moore for trying to protect me? Those were acceptable? Will he get punished for that? Will he spend the next six years behind bars?” I spit, slamming my arms down harshly on my desk, half expecting the judge to correct me but instead he says nothing, holding his chin as he peers at this arrogant ass hat prosecutor like he’s the one who’s lost it.

“She should be charged, your honour, we will be setting a terrible example.”

“ I object. I object.I object.I object.

I object .I object

I object.

I object. I object.I object.

I object. I object.

I object. I object.I object .I object.”

The entire room sings words that leave my jaw grounded, all standing like a wave crashing into my heavy heart, bringing pools to my eyes as I rest my gaze on Kacey, who stands with her parents, smiling gently at me like they have never been prouder.

“ We object.”

“ At this point, I would ordinarily give a detailed review and an assessment of all the evidence that has been given to me today. However, given the nature of this circumstance. I am going to keep this very brief. Miss Blackthorne, has been trialled today for indulging in the likes of criminal activity with a woman who is now not here to plead her case, shot on sight by a member of the CPD during infiltration where Miss Hayley Moore did in fact go willingly. It is alleged that on the evening of October thirtieth, Miss Blackthorne was abducted and held against her will. Since such events Miss Blackthorne has documented everything, she has done from that time to current date and all would have been raw, honest and are all justified. I have no doubt that Miss Blackthorne was in fact held against her will and is indeed a victim to an unfortunate circumstance, but she has not only told the truth, she has come forward and shared her story as well as Miss Moore’s. She has in no way denied her feelings or relations with her kidnapper during her time held captive and has given a solid argument as to why. There is an unfortunate number of cases in which individuals have been wrongfully convicted on the basis of eyewitness testimony, which Miss Blackthorne has elaborated with us all today. I also find Miss Blackthorne to be a credible victim in such an unexpected situation. I accept her testimony that she did indeed share an intimate relationship with Miss Moore during her disappearance. But we have enough evidence to back up why Miss Blackthorne was not in any way in danger by her kidnapper. I appreciate that Miss Blackthorne must have had a horrible experience, and her trauma shall not go unnoticed, as will not many other cases, starting today .” My eyes bulge out my sockets, watching as he speaks to the audience with an emotion I can’t put my finger on. Frustration? Familiarity? Starting today? Was that him making a stand with me?

“Miss Blackthorne has made it very clear to me that there are far bigger issues at hand besides the killing and passing of Miss Moore and with that. Our criminal justice system requires that before someone can be found guilty of a criminal offence, their guilt must be established beyond reasonable doubt. In the circumstances of this case, based on the evidence I have seen and heard by Miss Blackthorne today. I conclude that the crown has not established this case beyond reasonable doubt. Miss Blackthorne, I will ask you to stand now.”

I rise to my feet, as my knees buckle with anticipation, looking back at Kacey who has a smile growing across her face from ear to ear and I realise that this is really happening.

“I can confirm, I find you not guilty of your allegations during the time of your disappearance. You are free to leave. This case is closed.” A loud bang graces the room, filling my ears with an uproar of applause that push water out my eyes. I really did it. I fought my case and in doing so I hope that maybe now something will change. That the justice system will listen. That domestics and child abuse will be taken seriously. That it will no longer get swept under the rug. That kids like her may see happier days and will not be brought up to know only pain and suffering. That they will have a voice.

Like I was hers.

And I know she would probably want to strangle me just as much as want to kiss me right now, a bittersweet smile forming on my face at the thought as I look around the room all cheering for me, so loud I can barely hear myself think. I search for Kacey who is already running at me to catch me in a warm hug and I want to pull away but my arms fall around her, weeping into her little salmon pink dress.

Things are going to change.

Starting now.