Epilogue #2
“For twenty-two days, this courtroom has heard every manner of depravity we were subjected to at the behest of modern-day Pharisees. You’ve listened to countless victims relive the horrors they were forced to endure, but today, I’d like to speak about something I struggle to acknowledge, much less articulate.
It’s difficult to say the quiet part out loud, and for so long, I’ve worn a mask, making demands of my body that were impossible to reconcile.
I thought if I appeared apathetic, I’d be able to convince myself I actually was.
That what I experienced during my years of captivity didn’t affect me on such a visceral level that it altered my brain chemistry.
But it did, and admitting that felt like I was conceding defeat.
“For weeks after being rescued, I didn’t know if I wanted to lock myself inside or run as far as my feet would take me.
I was filled with a mixture of anger and devastation after finding out I was pregnant, because once again, my autonomy had been stolen from me against my will.
It took months for me to admit the truth out loud, and if it weren't for my support system, I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength to accept my new reality.
I want to be clear–I wouldn’t trade my child for anything, but that doesn’t erase what happened to me, nor does it make it okay. ”
My hands tremble as I shuffle the papers that contain my innermost thoughts. Swallowing thickly, I take another cleansing breath before mustering up the courage to continue speaking.
“I tried, valiantly, to ignore the changes within myself, but it was a futile attempt at clinging to who I once was. I had this idea that if I could get free from the monsters caging me, things would return to normal. Or at the very least, I could move on with my life and act as if it never happened. That notion couldn’t have been further from the truth.
It absolutely changed me, and pretending otherwise was doing myself a major disservice.
Voicing this aloud felt akin to waving a white flag, or an admission that Veritas had succeeded in what they set out to do–breaking us so profoundly that we were no longer capable of being functioning members of society.
“It took me far too long to realize that accepting they’d had a lasting impact on my life didn’t mean they’d won.
Quite the opposite, actually. I want each of you to know,” I trail off, looking every member of Veritas in the eye, saving Ada for last. I hold her gaze, resolve bolstering my spirit and giving me a renewed sense of power.
“Try as you might, you didn’t break me. You certainly changed me, but who I am now is infinitely stronger than the girl who was forced under your thumb by people who were meant to protect me.
Your so-called teachings went in one ear and directly out the other.
I never, not once, believed in your ludicrous ideologies.
The tainted and demonic vessel you reduced me to managed to outwit every single one of you.
It must vex you considerably to know that your superiority complex was ultimately your downfall. ”
A slow and pleased smile curls my lips as I watch Ada’s eyes darken with malice.
It’s incredibly liberating to know I can say every disparaging thought I’ve ever had in regard to such a vile and evil woman, and there’s nothing she can do but sit there and listen.
I have no fear of retaliation holding me back.
No promise of pain for daring to step out of line.
Just pure, unadulterated relief in knowing that I can finally speak my mind without any repercussions.
“Regardless of the sentence you’re given today, it will never be enough.
There is no amount of time you could serve that would equate to the punishments you meted out in the name of some omnipotent power, but spending the rest of your lives locked inside of a prison cell with your every move scrutinized is a good place to start.
I’ve heard that forgiving someone who’s wronged you is more for your benefit than theirs.
Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but you’ll find no absolution with me.
I do not forgive you, and I certainly won’t forget.
My only solace is knowing that if such a place exists that even remotely resembles the eternal misery of Hell, every one of you is destined to call it home. ”
I give my attention to the judge, allowing him to see the cracks in my armor.
To see beyond the facade I’ve crafted so I’d have the strength to stand before the very people who’ve irrevocably altered the way I see the world.
I allow the weariness I’m now saddled with to bleed through, desperately needing him to understand–without words–how fundamentally changed I am because of their deplorable and inhumane actions.
“I plead with you to give these monsters the maximum sentence possible. After everything we’ve had to overcome, it would be a shame if our abusers were granted leniency, especially when they’ve never shown their victims a modicum of basic human decency.
They deserve nothing less than to spend the rest of their miserable existences sequestered from the rest of society, much like we were.
Being stripped of their freedom is an incredibly small price to pay in comparison to the physical and mental abuse they inflicted on each of us at every opportunity.
I have complete trust that what you’ve heard over the past few weeks lends credence to our perpetrators never again venturing beyond a heavily guarded prison fence.
However, regardless of what your decision is, I’d like to thank you for giving me the space and time to speak my mind. ”
With that, I gather my rumpled papers, noting how the ink is smeared in places from my nervous fidgeting.
I walk directly to my seat, refusing to spare Ada another glance, despite feeling her eyes tracking my every move.
I said what I needed to. As far as I’m concerned, she, as well as the others, will be completely irrelevant to me the moment I walk free of this courthouse today.
Settling between Dayton and Col, I take their hands in mine, uncaring that my palms are sweaty from how anxious I am.
We sit through numerous victim impact statements, giving them our full attention.
I’m under no illusion that the members of Veritas will actually take any of our words to heart.
If we were in the privacy of an empty room without onlookers analyzing every microexpression for cracks in their stoic veneers, I have no doubt they’d be sneering and calling us a litany of degrading names.
When Catalina Carver is called to speak, I watch in awe as she strides to the front of the room, shoulders back and chin lifted defiantly.
There’s no waver in her single-minded focus, and she certainly doesn’t cower under the hate-filled gazes of the people responsible for her disfigurement.
She proudly bears the jagged scar along her left cheek, uncaring that it distorts her upper lip.
It doesn't detract from her beauty in the slightest, and when I glance back at Marshall, tears prick my eyes at the proud grin he gives her. Catalina doesn't speak about the day she was mauled, preferring to bring attention to the strides she’s made in her recovery. She talks passionately about the canine rescue she’s now an avid supporter of, making it clear that the weapon Veritas used when attempting to bring her to heel didn’t work as they’d hoped.
We all know who the real monsters are, and it was never the dogs they captured and used to their malevolent benefit.
Being the last to give her statement, the entire room falls silent as she takes her seat.
There’s a pregnant pause that precedes the judge clearing his throat.
Whether it’s purposeful or not, his stalling builds the expectation of what’s to come, making my chest tighten from holding my breath.
When his monotone voice pierces the quiet, I slowly exhale, mentally preparing myself for disappointment.
As he reads the verdict, the tension I’ve been carrying since stepping foot inside the courthouse dissipates with the utterance of a few words.
Multiple life sentences without the possibility of parole.
As chaos erupts around me, I can only sit there, completely overwhelmed by the notion that justice has finally been served.
Maybe not in the brutal and permanent fashion the guys would’ve preferred, but I never have to fear walking amongst my captors one day.
The air they breathe will be tainted with the pungent scent of regret as they learn to cohabitate with people who are just as violent as they are, and some of them won’t take too kindly to the crimes they’ve committed against children.
As my tears flow freely, I turn back to meet Catalina’s eye.
Our smiles mirror one another–both unsteady, but more grateful than words could ever explain.
The following minutes pass in a dizzying rush, but I pay no mind to Ada being led from the courtroom, kicking and screaming.
Moving on autopilot, I let Briggs lead me down the corridor and through the front doors.
Stepping outside, dozens of reporters are ready and waiting, hoping to hear from one of the victims who were in attendance today.
Ignoring their questions, I lean my head back and close my eyes, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash over me.
The smile tilting my lips is impossible to repress, and I’m sure there’s a photographer getting a perfectly clear shot of my contentment, which will likely be plastered across a multitude of news sites before the day ends.
I can’t be bothered to care, though. Not when the sweet feel of relief is still pumping through my veins.