The Witness

7

Every night after news of Will's shooting, I had horrific nightmares.

Sometimes, I was back with Grandpop in the sunglasses outlet where he died. Other times, I was stuck at a family reunion where I unwillingly killed off my cousins and parents.

Most nights, I went back to the kitchen.

By day, I bawled until my eyes ached and my head grew heavy. By night, my mind tortured me with the same terrors - whose endings I knew but could never change - until I woke up screaming with sweat-soaked sheets. Regardless of which nightmare I had, a sickening cacophony of laughter echoed through every moment.

Three chilling voices from the Met kitchen: the men who ruined my life.

John slept on a futon in my bedroom every night that month. He promised to keep me safe - no matter how sweaty and disheveled I was. Truthfully, he was the only person in the Program that I could trust.

After we relocated and I started therapy in Southport, the Program began to update me about Will. What I learned about his shooting was a patchwork transmission of odd details, but it was better than the radio silence I'd received during my relocation.

Will had been out drinking with some college buddies, having what sounded like a nice evening. If I knew Will, he'd have relished the evening catching up with fraternity flashbacks and freshman flirts. I did learn that nobody was driving drunk .

Thank God.

The night seemed to have been dying down when it happened. Will was waiting for a cab in front of the last nightclub of his escapades, along with two of his buddies. A black towncar silently moved through the valet line, rolled down a tinted window, and shot Will directly in the chest.

Nobody saw the license plate number.

He pulled through after several days in ICU - which were admittedly touch and go as his condition fluctuated wildly - but the fact that I couldn't go see him was devastating. He remained in hospital care with a police guard for several weeks, but I wasn't even allowed a phone call.

I didn't even know which hospital he was in. My updates were so delayed that Will had already been discharged for a week by the time I found out that he was home.

Up until the point of my relocation, the reality of my situation hadn't felt nearly as dangerous as it was. My entire family was at risk because I decided that I'd testify in court. Openly.

"May I ask a question?" My therapist interrupted my recount. "You were advised - legally advised - of the risks of testifying, from what we discussed in an earlier session. Did anybody else try to stop you from taking the stand? Any threats?"

"No threats, but someone did try to stop me." I chuckled, a deep sense of melancholy dripping from each lilt in my voice. Without needing to look, I knew that my therapist wanted to hear who my naysayer was. "Eric."

~~~

July 18, 2008

"Principessa!" Eric moaned as I sat up in bed. The alarm clock read 5:00 AM sharp - the trial was only five hours away. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I thought about what I had agreed to do. Eric wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me back into the warmth of our shared bed, a welcome distraction from my mounting anxiety. "5:00 is way too early. Why don't you skip it?"

"I can't just 'skip it' and go to brunch!" I slapped at Eric's arm playfully, which only resulted in him pulling me tighter against his chest. The warmth from Eric's bare chest radiated soothingly against my naked back; I settled in willingly as the little spoon in our quilted stronghold. Eric's heartbeat drummed endlessly against the soft skin in between my shoulder blades, sending shivers along my spine and down to my toes. "If I could, I would.  Believe me."

"I hate this." Eric's voice sounded strained, broken. He buried his face in my dark hair and sniffed several times, a telltale sign that tears were coming soon. "Why couldn't it be someone else?"

"No matter who saw the crime, it happened. Someone died!" I flipped over to face him, my head clumsily reposotioned so that we could share the same pillow. "But I don't want to talk about that right now."

"Okay." Eric wrapped his arms tightly around me, tracing endless circles along my back until suddenly the clock rang out a 6:00 AM alarm. Just as I moved to turn off the blaring harbinger of the new day, Eric cupped my face and pulled me into a deep kiss.

His lips were softer than usual, despite the scruff of his incoming beard. Something seemed wild in his kiss. Urgent. Our bodies writhed in a passionate dance choreographed by a year of careful practice. Eric was clearly unwilling to give up our last moments of normalcy.

Suddenly, I found myself pulled on top of him - although our kiss barely broke for even a breath. He swatted at the alarm clock until it eventually fell silent; his deafening moans replaced the device's shrieks as I mounted him. My entire body shuddered as I moved along his length, a motion which allowed my breasts to bounce freely with each thrust. I clenched my thighs and core for an extra flair of pleasure and found myself arching my back in a frenzied riot.

Maybe we were both a little worried about the trial.

I cried out as my climax piqued along every nerve in my body. My pace remained unchanged until Eric reached his release, but not a second later we fell into a breathless tangle of arms and legs.

"Shit!" I gasped when I saw the alarm clock. 6:40. "The car is going to be here at 7:00."

I couldn't contemplate how I would manage to shower off and slide into a modest black dress within my time limit. My mind fluttered from activity to activity like a worker bee with a blind focus on her mission. Dress. Eye shadow. Lipstick. Shoes. Granola bar. More lipstick.

"Alright, I've got to go!" I called as my phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. Reality set in again as I reached to throw the dingy iPhone into today's tote bag of choice: I was really doing this - I was taking on the Mafia. "I love you!"

Before Eric could respond, I walked out of my apartment. I prayed that he wouldn't catch the elevator before I got on; I couldn't bear to act like this morning was the last we'd ever share.

I heard Eric's voice call for me just as the elevator doors were closing. Instinctively, I looked up to see him running shirtless toward the elevator car. He wouldn't make it; we both knew it.

The entire ride to the courthouse, Eric's betrayed expression remained etched in the forefront of my mind.

Just as I'd thought, the tears had arrived.