12. Savannah
Chapter 12
Savannah
M ichael hands me the paper bag.
“Breathe into it. You don’t want to pass out now.”
I feel my throat closing up—and take deep breaths, exhaling and inhaling the same air. After a few gulps, I put the bag down.
“This is it. This is the end. I’m going to be convicted of murder, and I’ll spend the rest of my life behind bars. Everything I’ve worked for, the things I tried to accomplish, and the things I haven’t done yet…it’s all going down the drain!”
“If you have that mindset, you will never withstand the pressure from the prosecution, and he will cut you down. You need to pull yourself together, Savannah.”
“How!?” I yell, losing it. “How am I supposed to do that? Three months ago, my life was perfect. I just got a new job and was planning a wedding. Now I’m heading to court to stand trial for killing the man who broke my heart!”
“How do I keep it together? You’ve never been in my shoes, so don’t tell me what to do,” I snap.
“I am your lawyer. If I don’t tell you what to do, who will?” He says in a calm, infuriating tone. “But I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset. I’m telling you to wait until we get out of the courtroom, and away from the crowds.”
“I—I—”
Tears run down my face as my shoulders tremble. I open my mouth, but only sobs come out.
Michael places both hands on my shoulders.
“It’s true, I can’t understand how you feel, and I know that if my life was flipped upside down because of something I didn’t do, I would lose it too. But I’m asking you to listen to me, I’m going to get you out of this. I will clear your name.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry. All they have is an outburst that people overheard, it’s circumstantial at best,” he assures me.
I wipe my tears, sniffing. “Isn’t that motive enough? They convict people based on motives, you know?”
“They need more than just a motive and you’re not the only one who had a motive to kill Brandon Portman,” he reveals.
My eyes almost pop out of their sockets.
“I’m not? I mean,” I shake my head. “I wasn’t going to kill him. But…what did you find?”
“Brandon had a friend. I don’t think you knew him. But they met the night before he died, and he threatened to kill Brandon. He’s nowhere to be found now, but we are looking for him.”
I breathe easier, hearing his words. It ignites hope in my chest that maybe…just maybe, the case will be resolved before I become a public spectacle.
***
Michael and I walk up the many stairs to the courthouse, and I’m all too aware of how many steps it takes to get to the doors, counting them to keep my mind from thinking the worst.
Before I walk through, he takes my hand.
“Savannah.”
He says his voice is an eerily calm tone. I turn to him.
“Yeah?”
“One thing. When you walk in there, go with the mindset that you are innocent, and the jury will see that, too. It’s the first day—I know—but you need to make a good impression from the start.”
“Don’t be cocky…just be your confident self,” he assures me.
“I’m a fidgeting mess,” I admit. “Does that work?”
He looks directly into my eyes. “Trust me, take a deep breath and know I will get you out of this.”
“I’ll do my best.”
***
My legs are shaking as I follow Michael out of the building. My legs fail almost immediately, and his hands catch me as I stumble, blocking my fall.
“Hold my hand,” he says. “But we have to hurry. The press will be on us like flies if we don’t hurry.”
I nod, even as tears stream down my face, forcing my legs to move faster. Clutching his arm, we get to the car safely. As soon as the door shuts, the press swarms around us, lights flashing on all corners.
I’m doomed, the words echo in my brain as I remain in a state of shock as the police clear the press out of the way so the car can move forward.
I’m doomed.
I’m done for.
My life…is over.
I should have known that the second I walked in there, I wouldn’t come out the same. I should have known from the moment Elaine confidently came to arrest me that day that she had something up her sleeve.
“Savannah?” I feel Michael’s hand on my shoulder, jarring me to the present.
My eyes refocus, and I see that we’re now on the highway.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Okay?” The word comes out hoarse, even though I haven’t been shouting. “Am I okay? What do you expect me to say to that?”
Do you know why I’m here, seated in this car? BECAUSE THE JUDGE DECIDED I’M NOT A FLIGHT RISK!” I yell.
“Sav—”
“I knew it,” I chuckle mirthlessly. “I knew that something would go wrong. You said it would be easy—that I had nothing to worry about because you’re my lawyer. Bet you didn’t see that coming!”
“I—”
I cackle some more, even as tears stream down my face. My shoulders shake, and I feel my vision blur.
“A murder weapon. That’s what they presented in court today if you don’t remember. There I was, thinking that I would be acquitted once the judge realized they didn’t have enough evidence, silly hearsay and all that,” I continue.
“I was at home yesterday, Michael,” my hands claw the fabric of the seat as pain rips through my chest. “I stayed all night in my home, and how did two plainclothes officers get into my home and find a knife?”
“With my fingerprints. And the knife matches the wounds found on Brandon! I was at home!” I yell, starting to lose my mind.
“I came home. I had food, didn’t I? Microwaved it, even. I slept in my bed. How did I not notice that something was amiss?”
“You didn’t kill him,” Michael says calmly. “Let’s work from that point.”
“How are you sure I didn’t kill him?” I continue my delusional rant.
“Because you didn’t,” he continues to try to calm me.
He takes my hand, but I snatch it from his grip.
“HOW DO YOU KNOW? You only know what I told you. What if I murdered Brandon in a fit of rage and then forgot about it because my brain blocked it out?”
He frowns. “Why would you think something like that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know…maybe because the murder weapon was found in my house? In my storage room?”
“It could have been—”
I shake my head, pointing my finger in the air.
“I know you want to show me that you have faith in me, but it only makes me angrier. Even if this is a set-up, how could I not have seen it?” I sob.
My shoulders shudder as more sobs tear through me. I curl into a ball in a corner of the car, crying my heart out.
“I should have been more careful. If this is a set-up, I should have noticed that someone had it in for me. My father was right. I’m not smart...I’m easy. I’m vulnerable. I’ll never amount to anything.”
More words that I’ve heard from him in the past echo in my head, stomping on the last shred of hope in my heart. At some point, it becomes too hard to breathe, and I go into a coughing fit.
I feel Michael’s arm around my body as he pulls me close, placing my head on his chest. He says nothing, but his hand runs over my head. My sobs reduce to quiet tears as I take solace in his arms.
After a while, my eyelids grow heavy, and I close them, falling into sweet and temporary oblivion.