♡ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

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(Cary's POV)

"MR. HAMES, please call to the stand your first witness."

Jonathan finally broke his gaze with me and I looked down in my lap. That was the one thing I couldn't handle, the one thing that would've pushed me over the edge. And it happened — his steel gray eyes were like fiery branding irons, opening up the scars he'd already given me.

Tears streamed down my face, and seeing the scar on the palm of my hand didn't help any. Soda and Darry held me tight, but the floodgates were already opened. I managed to silence my sobs, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably.

I could barely keep my breathing under control, but I stopped completely when Mr. Hames spoke into his microphone.

"Mr. Jonathan Davies."

I froze in place, staring at the wooden divider in front of me. I heard Jonathan's shackles jingle as he stood up and was led towards the stand. They got closer with each step he took, and even though we were in a room full of people and he was the one in handcuffs, I still felt the same way I did that Sunday I was walking home from Cassie's bakery — September 20th. Almost a month ago. Despite both Darry and Soda's hands gripping mine, I felt scared and alone, and in that moment I wanted nobody else but Johnny.

I then remembered that he was here, in this room, and it gave me what little strength I needed to lift my head up and face Jonathan. I was going to show him how little he meant to me, even through the tears that made my eyes puffy.

Mr. Hames began pacing before he even started talking. "Mr. Davies," he started, "as you have heard, Ms. Curtis blames you for repeated abuse during your relationship—"

"She's a liar!" Jonathan interrupted and hearing his voice sent shivers down my spine. I felt him looking at me, but I avoided his gaze. I didn't think I could handle another cold look from him.

Mr. Hames smiled uncomfortably. "So you never abused Ms. Curtis in any way?"

"No, never!" His voice was angry, just like how he spoke when he was drunk. I guess some things never change, even with two weeks of jail time.

"Explain."

Jonathan sighed dramatically, and I scoffed inwardly. He was such a bad liar. "She's a druggie, was high all the time. I tried to get her to stop, but she just got mad."

Gasps crawled across the room, and I couldn't decide whether it was from shock he would say something so outrageous or because the guy in handcuffs was defending himself for something he was so obviously guilty of.

"How often does she use drugs?"

"'Bout every day," he said confidently, "sometimes even more than that."

I looked at my brothers, my mouth agape. I expected him to lie, but not something as outrageous as this.

"Tell me, Mr. Davies, did Ms. Curtis ever hit you?"

Jonathan scoffed, his frustration so obviously fake it was infuriating. "Plenty of times."

"Very well, then," Mr. Hames said, nodding his head, "no further questions, Your Honor."

That was it? I knew Jonathan's lawyer didn't have much evidence to go off of — because there wasn't any — but his case was pitiful. I couldn't help but laugh to myself.

I felt myself smile when Mr. Dayton stood up. If there was anybody who could work the truth out of Jonathan, it was him.

"Mr. Davies, you claim that Ms. Curtis abused you during your relationship. Tell me, did you ever reciprocate that abuse?"