{Thirty} How Do I Live

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The trial went on for several months.

As great as our attorney was, theirs was better. As strong as my word was, Mr. Marshall's status and money was stronger.

Because I hadn't had a Rape kit used on me at the hospital as evidence, hadn't opened my mouth about it until months after it happened, as well as no more than one witness, I pretty much had no case.

We spent an entire month trying to gather enough evidence and witnesses willing to take a stand against Kevin, only to come up with no more than Kimmy and myself.

The next month mentally and physically broke me as I was at a constant war with myself and thoughts as they were finally expressed aloud. There'd been a small part of me that had prayed that the words finally breaking free would relieve some of the coldness that consumed every essence of my body, the darkness that clouded my thoughts.

It only made it harder to make it through each day.

I was in fear of what may happen every morning I stepped out of the warmth and comfort of my own house and out into the unknown. Between the constant media attention with crazed paparazzi trying to get every little detail of the case and never knowing what I'd be greeted with every time I broke passed the front doors of my school.

I didn't appreciate the label of "Landon Price's Little Sister" until it was too late. I would have done anything to return to it. To not be "The girl who was raped" or "Slutty Spencer" to the few that thought I was doing this all for attention.

I would have given my life to go back to being the girl I had been last year. But she was no more than an image in the back of my mind, I was just the shell of her.

"He should of done twenty-five to life." Landon's angry outburst cut through the tension in the dimly lit living room.

My mother, hugging her white parka around her, looked toward my brother with a fear I'd only see once before in my life. "Landon."

He shot her a dark look. "Don't 'Landon' me. It's bullshit, Mom. He took Avery's innocence, her life. Why shouldn't they take his? Oh, that's right, because his pathetic little Daddy paid everyone off, right?"

A strand of my mom's blonde hair had escaped her tight ponytail, brushing against her flushed cheek as she stared at my brother with a surprised expression.

"At least Marshall lost the election." My dad interjected with a shrug.

Colton snickered from where he was perched on the stairs, eying the protest on the TV with a bitter look.

"Of course that's all you have to say."

My father rose with a snide comment under his breath.

"You sure you want to speak to me like that, boy?" My dad snapped. "I've given you a roof over your head for months."

Landon and I didn't have to look over to know Colton was already making his way across the room to our father.

"With all due respect, sir, you couldn't give less of a shit about Avery or what happened. You want to kick me out? Fine. Just know that your kids were struggling for months, your daughter was dying inside, and you didn't so much as call. You're a-"

"Colton." I cut him off with a quick shake of my head. My dad opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Landon.

"Serves him right." He gestured toward the stream of police cars starting up Mr. Marhsall's driveway as a new headline broke across the screen. I was too caught up in the footage of a cuffed Brian Marshall being shoved down the stairs to take much interest in what it said. "Trying to pay us off to not testify. Look at you now, asshole."

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