Chapter 18
Charlotte
Jesus Christ. Why didn’t David warn me how long this shit was going to be? It seemed pretty simple to me: we show up, everybody says what he did, the jury says, “Yup, that bastard’s guilty”, we go home, and Priest gets carted back to prison to play flesh puppet for the top dog on the block. Everyone’s happy!
It’s been three and a half hours, and we are still on opening statements.
The DA laid out Caleb “Priest” Kirkpatrick’s extensive dossier. Apparently, Priest has been involved in many pots around town, and the feds have been watching him for longer than anyone thought.
Possession- Aggravated charge added
Possession of drug paraphernalia
Distribution of a controlled substance- Aggravated charge added
Manufacturing of a controlled substance
Conspiracy to distribute or traffic drugs
Interstate Drug Distribution
Money laundering
Child Endangerment
Sexual Assault- Aggravated charge added
Sexual Battery
Statutory Rape
Rape- Aggravated charge added
Extortio n
Robbery
Racketeering
Criminal Threats
Fraud
And my personal favorite,
Attempted Murder
If he’s found guilty of even half of his offenses, he will never step foot outside the prison walls again.
David told me he did have a few lesser charges but pleaded those down in exchange for no possibility of extradition to Kentucky to avoid facing capital punishment.
A little birdy told him that Priest agreed to give up his supplier in Kentucky in exchange for leniency regarding the charges he faces here in Alaska.
I kind of wish I could go back to 1957 and not let them abolish capital punishment in this state.
However, if I were wishing to go back in time for things, maybe I’d be better off pulling a Terminator and making sure Priest never comes to exist in the first place. Tick Tock, motherfucker. You better hope that genius guy who invented the internet never finds a way to time travel, ‘cause if he does, I’m coming for you.
Would I hesitate to kill a child? Normally I would say, fuck yes, you psycho. But this is kinda like the baby Hitler debate.
Like no, I would never harm a child… unless… that child is Hitler, or I guess, who grows up to be Hitler. And in this case, grows up to be Priest.
Normally, I’m pretty against murder as a whole. Morality and all that. But I do think there are some prime candidates to be Ed Gein’s new roommate, if you know what I mean.
Namely, Hitler and Priest.
“I’d now like to call to the witness stand, Charlotte Johnson.” The District Attorney announces to the courtroom.
David hands me the paper with my typed-up statement. The shortened version, anyway. That way, if I totally freeze, I can reference the paper for what I need to say. The paper immediately floats to the floor and lands on top of ragey girl’s shoe. When I bend and try to grab it with my trembling hand, she stops me with a hand over mine. We lock eyes, hers an intense shade of cerulean. She squeezes my hand tightly and gives me a sharp nod before letting go and looking back at the front of the courtroom.
What the fuck was that?
I settle into the hard wooden chair on the witness stand. The bailiff hands me a Bible, and I swear to tell all the truths or some shit. I wasn’t really listening. The DA starts off by asking me some mundane questions.
How do I know the defendant? How long did we hang out? Was I aware of his business practices? Had I ever witnessed transactions? How old was I the first time we were “intimately acquainted”? His questions seemed to drag on and on. I never once looked at Priest, but I could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. I know what he’s thinking. He’s wishing that hit would’ve killed me. Sometimes, I wish that too.
I answer all the questions as short and direct as possible, per David’s instructions. Finally, he asks me to detail that last night for the court.
I stare at the cue notes on my lap. Come on, Charlie, just tell it like it’s written. Like it didn’t happen to you, but instead, you’re just telling a story. A fucking demented, sick, and twisted tale.
Sweat dots my palms, and I run them across my thighs before looking up and meeting the DA’s impatient stare. I’ve been silent for too long. Not just at this moment but my whole life.
No more.
I clear my throat, “I was at Priest’s place and was chilling on the couch when he hollered for me to come into his bedroom. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he was very insistent, and you don’t say no to Priest–”
“Objection!” His lawyer shouts.
I immediately slam my lips together. Shit. I fucked up already.
“Miss Johnson, please refrain from using speculation. Stick to the facts, and use the defendant’s legal name.” Judge Appleton instructs me.
“Yes, sir,” I nod and continue, “Like I said, he yelled for me to come into the room. When I did, I saw he had a tray of items in his hand.”
“What items were on the tray, Miss Johnson?” The DA asks .
My hands twist together on my lap. Cold sweat begins to drip down the back of my neck as I try to separate the recalling of events from my near brush with death that day.
“There was a needle, a tourniquet, and a vile with some sort of liquid. I wasn’t sure exactly what was in it. When I asked Prie–” I catch the slip before I fully get it out, “ – I mean Caleb, what it was, he informed me that it was an injectable version of the AstraMallum he had been producing.”
“And what did he do with the tray, Miss Johnson?”
My heart is thudding dangerously against my chest. The ghost of that night hovers over me, ready to reach in and slow my heart just like it did before.
I gulp past the vomit that creeps up my throat, “He told me that I had to help him,” I answer, my voice small. Smaller than I’d like in this vulnerable moment.
“Help him with what exactly?” he questions.
“Caleb said I needed to shoot up the new drug so he could make sure it was good and ready to hit the streets. I tried to refuse, and he said he would call someone over to hold me down if I didn’t comply.”
“What happened then?”
The ghost’s fingers tap dance up my spine, filling my body with icy terror. I open my mouth to answer him, but my words are frozen.
“Miss Johnson? Please tell the court what happened after Mr. Kirkpatrick said he would call someone to hold you down if you didn’t comply.”
I blink back the tears that begin to pool in my lids, “I did what he asked. I shot up the drug. I don’t remember much after that. I started having trouble breathing, I couldn’t move, and eventually, I passed out. When I woke up again, I was in the hospital with a breathing tube down my throat and wires hooked up all over my body.”
“Thank you, Miss Johnson. You may step down.” The DA instructs with finality.
I let out a breath of relief. It’s over. I did it. I made it through without falling apart.
I stand and smooth my skirt down, and as I make my way back to my seat, the Judge’s words halt my movement. “Okay, folks, we will take a thirty- minute recess, and then the previous witness, Charlotte Johnson, will take the stand for cross-examination.”
Fuck my life, I forgot about that part. I glance at David, he must read the horror on my face. He nods at me in a placating way, telling me with his slight smile that it’ll be okay. We did go over what could happen during cross-examination, but with everything else going on, I fucking forgot about it.
“Miss Johnson, is it true that you asked to meet my client?”
“Well, yes, but–”
“A yes is all I need, Miss Johnson. Is it also true that you offered yourself willingly to my client – as well as a number of his friends – sexually, in exchange for drugs?”
The blood may as well be draining from my body. My lips rub against each other tightly. “I mean, willingly is a loose term when it comes to Caleb. He would’ve taken it one way or the other.”
“Objection! Move to strike, your Honor.” The Defense attorney shouts.
“Sustained. Young lady, you will keep to the facts and the facts only. Do you understand me?” Judge Appleton chastises.
I nod in dejection, “Yes, sir, I’m sorry. Yes. I sometimes gave myself willingly to Caleb and his friends in exchange for drugs.” I respond solemnly.
“ I have no further questions for this witness, your Honor.”
“You may step down.” Judge Appleton informs me with a wave of his hand.
“Redirect, your Honor?” the DA asks.
“Proceed.” He agrees.
“Miss Johnson, you said sometimes you gave yourself willingly to Mr. Kirkpatrick and his friends. Are you implying that there were times you were unwilling ?”
This is it. My most shameful secret. My truths flayed open before a room of eager, bloodthirsty onlookers.
My hands curl into tight fists, my nails finding their cavernous crescent homes. The pain no longer phases my palms. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” My body slowly inflates with every ounce of strength I can muster, and I pray my voice doesn’t betray my trepidation .
My shoulders lock into place, and I hold my chin high as I lock eyes with my monster. Let him see the words flow from my mouth. Let him feel my truth smash into him like a freight train. Let my pain etch itself into his blackened soul and become the only movie his subconscious watches on a loop when he’s burning in Hell. “Caleb Kirkpatrick, along with his friends, raped me. Numerous times. I said no. I screamed no. But they did it anyway.”
“Thank you for your candor and your testimony today. You may step down.”
* * *
“How much longer?” I whine to David. The jury has already been deliberating for several hours. If they don’t come back in the next hour with a verdict, it will go into tomorrow and possibly beyond.
What the hell could they be deliberating for so long? The bastard is clearly guilty as fuck. You can just look at him and tell what a scum bag he is.
I sip my soda and lean my head against the wall. The ceiling is low in this part of the hallway. Not as regal as they made the courtroom up to be. The ceiling tiles are cheap plaster with pockmarks all over them. There are a few random watermarks, turning the light gray into a muddied brown.
The brown splotches turn to clouds, and suddenly, I’m lying on the grass outside of our house, and my mom is beside me. She points to the one on the right, “Rabbit.” I roll my eyes. “It’s clearly a shark, Mom.” I correct her. We never saw the same thing. We’ve always had differing opinions, she and I. God, I wish she was here. How am I going to get through this without her? Without Savvy?
Grayson is here, but I’ve asked Mary to keep him far away. I can’t handle his bullshit on top of everything else today. So far, she’s kept to her word. I don’t know what she said to him to make him keep his distance, but I don’t really care as long as he does.
“I’m going to grab a snack from the vending machine. Do you want something?” David asks as he stands and points down the hall where a large black vending machine sits. A line of hungry court attendees wait in front of it for their turn.
I shake my head and return to looking for errant sea creatures on the ceiling when warmness fills the space David just vacated. “That was tough. How are you doing?” Dr Turner asks in that soft, soothing way he has. I don’t bother taking my eyes off the ceiling. He’s used to talking to my chin when I do this in his office—or the top of my head if I’m scribbling in my notebook.
I shrug my shoulder, “Eh, I mean, it could’ve been worse, I suppose. But I’m definitely in no hurry to repeat it. I just want it to be over, and I want never to see him again.” We don’t have to define who “him” is. We both know.
With his shoulder pressed to mine, I feel the nod of his head.
“When this is over, I’d like to take you back to Starry North if that’s okay with you.” David picked me up, but I don’t see any harm in Dr. Turner taking me back. We are going to the same place anyway, and it seems silly to make David go out of his way. “Sure. I’ll let David know.”
His hand comes down between our legs and gently brushes against my thigh. Whether it’s purposeful or not, I’m not sure. “Actually, I’ll let him know. There’s paperwork we have to fill out. It’s a chain of custody thing. I’ll go talk to him now. Hang in there, Charlie. We’ll be done with this soon.” Charlie . Not Miss Johnson.
“What the fuck was that? How could they find him not guilty on so many charges? The justice system in this country is a crock of shit!” I swear as I slam my fist against the dashboard of Dr. Turner’s SUV.
The flames of anger lick at my skin. I want to hit something. Actually, I want to hit someone . I want to punch Priest in his stupid, pretty boy face until he’s unrecognizable.
“I hear you, Charlie. It doesn’t seem fair. But look at the bright side. He was found guilty of the most heinous crimes he was charged with. Those will carry a very hefty sentence if not life.” Dr. Turner lifts his right hand from the steering wheel and holds out his palm to me, “Let’s take a look at that left hook. That hit sounded like a doozy.” He jokes. I didn’t know Dr. Turner had a sense of humor. I roll my eyes, but I place my left hand in his .
As we pull up to a stop light, the interior of the car floods with a red hue. Dr. Turner rolls my hand from side to side, inspecting the damage–spoiler alert, there is none. He hms and purses his lips. He looks over at me as he brings my hand to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on my palm. “There. All better,” he whispers reverently, almost to himself.
I slowly pull my hand back, “I-it uh feels much better now, thanks, Dr. Turner.”
We spend the rest of the drive in silence. As we pull up to the facility and Dr. Turner parks in his spot, I unclip my seat belt and move to open the door. A hand on my shoulder pauses my movements. I look over my shoulder in question, but his face is covered in shadow. “Dr. Turner?” I ask.
Silence.
I let go of the handle and turn my body to face him. He leans forward just enough that I can see his eyes in the stream of soft lighting from the lamppost in the parking lot.
His eyes are dark and simmering with raw desire. My pulse jumps rapidly at his attention.
“Jensen.” He breathes out forcefully, his teeth gritting together.
“W-what?”
He leans forward, his face now well over the halfway point of the center console. I don’t back away.
“My name… is Jensen.” He punctuates the words with a soft run of his index finger along my wrist, which lies on the console.
His breath lingers against my skin, a damp, warm breeze of life. The nerve endings along my flesh spark up like lights on a Christmas tree.
He leans in closer.
“Say it.” His words ghost across my lips with their proximity. “Please, say it, Charlie.”
I let out a soft breath and give him what he asks, “Jensen.”
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips slam together. Though the motion is quick and rough, the kiss is anything but.
Jensen’s lips move softly, tentatively across mine.
He doesn’t kiss me passionately and domineering like Jason .
He’s not kissing me like he wants to save me, and I’m the very air he needs to breathe like Zach.
He’s kissing me like he wants to know my soul and take away every bad thought and painful moment I’ve ever had. He’s not kissing to lead to more.
His lips dance delicately across mine, and when his tongue asks for entry, a small gasp comes out of me.
As he breaks our kiss, Jensen lets out a breath of air across my mouth. He brings our foreheads together for a moment before pulling away and exiting the car.
Sitting stunned, I place two fingers over my still-tingling lips, trying to make sense of what just happened and how I feel about it. I don’t get to think about it for long before he opens my door and leads me into the facility.
He checks us in, silently.
We walk down the corridor towards the center, silently.
And when we reach the dorm hall, I turn to say something, anything, to dispel this awkwardness between us. He’s already walking off in the direction of his office, silently.