Page 44 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Avery

** Six Weeks Later **

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Shannon Sherwood.”

My fingers strum my hips nervously as I watch the Judge enter the room from a side door, her black robe billowing behind her as she walks powerfully towards her seat.

The whole room is dead silent, the bailiff motioning for us to sit once her Honor is settled into her chair.

I've been counting down to this moment, desperate to know what's in store for me. When we got wind that the agency investigating Lilydale decided to reopen all our cases, I wasn't sure how to feel.

For the past few weeks, the Court has been summoning patients one by one, reviewing the previous charges that led us to Lilydale.

Apparently, the facilities can't hold onto all of us long term, and with the only other viable option being prison, someone recommended that we should be re-trialed or attempt to appeal our sentences.

Even sending us all to prison would be a burden on resources, and given the torture and experience we all had in Lilydale, it was deemed necessary to review everything thoroughly .

Everyone had been hopeful when we found out. Except me.

The idea of my past being scrutinized again made me feel sick.

Even more so the fact that there's a possibility I could go to prison.

Or what if I'm released and the guys are still found guilty?

Too many factors lay in the hands of others, and my track record with allowing people to decide my fate isn't great.

Peering over my shoulder, I spot Dr. Smith and Margie in the courtroom gallery, the two of them giving me reassuring smiles.

From what I've been told, they have been to every court appearance to date, supporting patients. The guys apparently haven't been summoned yet and only a handful of women have returned to Ridgeview Valley Rehabilitation Home so information has been limited, to say the least.

When I got notice yesterday that it was my turn today, I didn't sleep a wink. Jillian had managed to use one of the computers in the facility to help find precedent to argue my case, but at the end of the day, it all comes down to the public defender next to me and the Judge.

Lilydale was… traumatic. And no doubt that will work in my favor. But I still killed. Not only my father, but I killed while in Lilydale.

Police had scoured Lilydale after everything went down, securing the footage to watch to help the agency with their investigation. There's literal evidence that I committed arson and murder, not to mention the guys. We can argue that it was self defence, but we were in Lilydale for a reason.

"In the matter of the people versus Avery Elizabeth White, the Court will now review the original charges and evidence presented during the trial," the Judge recites, glancing at me briefly before switching to the public defender. "Mr. Lovett, as you will."

The public defender reminds me a lot of my hotshot lawyer from the first time round—young, ambitious.

Except he also looks tired. I don't blame him though.

He suddenly had nearly one hundred cases thrown at him with little time to prepare.

The system is ridiculously overwhelmed and he lifts my file in his hands, hazel eyes meeting the Judge's as he clears his throat.

"Thank you, Your Honor. The defendant was previously brought before the Court in relation to a homicide charge pertaining to her father.

The Court will note that previous evidence provided by the Defence indicated that the defendant was the victim of domestic abuse.

Due to the mitigating factors of the case, the charge was downgraded to involuntary manslaughter as the defendant claimed to not have intended to harm the deceased.

Due to her mental state at the time, she was allegedly attempting to end her own life and was not aware her father had returned to the property prior to starting a fire. "

I rub my scars nervously, focusing on the tattoos covering them. The whole courtroom is getting a first hand recount of my life, and it's only going to get worse from here.

"I see," the Judge answers casually, not giving anything away. "And her sentence?"

"Originally sentenced to prison time, however was offered a place at Lilydale Foundation Center after her legal representative applied on her behalf."

Glancing over my shoulder again, I meet Dr. Smith's eyes. He gives me a small nod of reassurance.

"Ms. White," the Judge addresses me, my head spinning back to face her. "Please proceed to the stand to be sworn in."

Part of me expects the Bible to sizzle and burn when I put my hand on the cool leather. Following the prompts by the public defender, I link my hands nervously, trying to will myself to calm the fuck down.

"Now, Ms. White," he starts, brown hair perfectly smoothed back. "You began your sentence at Lilydale around a year ago, is that correct?"

"Yes," I answer quietly.

"Can you please tell the court about your time at Lilydale Foundation Center—specifically your treatment program?"

I hesitate as I look over to the prosecution table. I've watched enough Law and Order to know that they are going to try to rip me apart. But as I wait for them to object, to accuse the defender of leading me, I'm surprised when they don't move at all .

It's as if they want to hear my story—want to hear what I have to say.

"Well," I start nervously, twisting my hands in my lap.

"When I arrived I was told that the program was set up to help rehabilitate patients so that they could go back to society.

We were strictly guarded and had a set treatment program of professional appointments, including mandatory psych sessions.

" Pausing, I smile tightly at Dr. Smith.

"We also had access to a physician who helped manage my chronic pain from previous injuries. "

The public defender jumps in, "Injuries that were a result of your father's abuse?"

"Yes," I confirm. "Prior to the fire, I had been to the hospital a number of times for his abuse. Broken bones, removing beer bottle glass from my back, and other things…" I trail off uncomfortably.

"Could you please elaborate on what you mean by other things ?" he presses.

My heart beats violently in my chest. But I realize I have a choice here.

I can retreat into my mental shell, or I can take this opportunity to speak up for the first time in my life.

Everyone here wants to hear what I have to say.

Even at the back of the courtroom, reporters are staring at me intensely with notepads, eager for a story.

From what I've heard, the whole Lilydale ordeal has created a media frenzy lately.

What benefit is there to staying quiet? What about other victims that are too afraid to speak up? To talk about their pain. Abusers get away with too much. My father may be dead, but it's not my job to protect him. He never protected me. I had to fight to survive every step of the way.

Well, fuck him. And fuck Lilydale.

Clearing my throat, I do my best to keep my voice strong. "The week before I accidentally killed my father, he had arranged for his friend to rape me," I say loudly, voice cracking only slightly. "I was the prize in some stupid game or bet. The incident left me severely injured."

I can practically feel the tension in the room at my words, a few people not hiding their shock and repulsion. It spurs me on, the public defender nodding. "Tell us about these injuries."

"Scarring and inflammation to my reproductive organs. I was told I will never be able to conceive children. I also suffered severe bruising from attempting to fight back."

My face feels warm as dozens of eyes watch me but I stay focused on the public defender. He eagerly nods, indicating I'm doing well.

"And was your father present that day?"

"Yes," I frown. "He was in the living room. I know he could hear me screaming because the volume on the television kept increasing. He basically sold my virginity and didn't care."

A few murmurs sound around the room but I pay them no mind. Anger and pain rush through me, memories flashing into my mind. I didn't deserve that shit—any of it .

"And what happened to lead to the fire?" The public defender pushes.

"That night my father was in his usual bad mood," I recall. "He threw a bottle at my head and dragged me through the glass while kicking me. During it, he got a phone call and left to go meet that friend. He threatened to bring him back for round two."

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But the faces of the observers and jury give me the power to continue, their horrified expressions clearly working in my favor.

"I'm so sorry," he sympathizes. "So, you felt the only option you had was to end your life."

"That's right," I admit, not bothering to brush away a tear that glides down my cheek. "Except I didn't know he had come back home. I wanted to burn the house down. My mother had killed herself in it too because of him. I just wanted to escape him—not harm him."

"And you ended up in Lilydale?"

"Yes."

"Tell us more about Lilydale. Were you supported by the professional staff there?"

I meet Dr. Smith's eyes again. "Some, yes. But unbeknownst to us, they were conducting experiments on patients. I was one of them."

As I enter into my recollection of Dr. West and Dr. Cromwell's torture, I notice people around the room covering their mouths in horror and disbelief .

Then it hits me.

I'm so close to freedom—if I can just prove I'm not mentally unfit and should be kept in a facility for the rest of my life.

"Despite everything," I start to tell the room.

"I worked with my psychiatrist at Lilydale to help heal.

And I feel like I've come far. I worked through the blame I held, and how much I hated myself.

I actually fell in love there. And for the first time in my life, I believe I deserve a second chance. I deserve to live my life."

The public defender nods, smiling at me. "Thank you, Avery. No more questions, Your Honor."

It's a long morning, pushing into the afternoon when finally, after everyone has spoken, including Dr. Smith, we are excused while the jury deliberates.

I stay outside the courtroom with Margie while Dr. Smith keeps his distance, apparently so as to not cause any tampering issues or something according to Margie.

Since he spoke as a witness, it's best that we aren't seen talking until the verdict comes back, in case they try to say we're colluding, even though he's on my side.

Hours pass, and finally, we're called back in.

I might actually vomit. Like enough to drown in.

My legs threaten to shake and buckle as I stand next to the public defender, heart pounding painfully.

Shit. This is it…

Whatever they decide, that will seal my fate forever .

"Has the Jury reached a decision?" The Judge asks the lead juror.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"And in your relation to the original charge of involuntary manslaughter, how does the jury find?"

"Guilty, your Honor."

I suck in a breath, panic threatening to send me into madness. How? Why? Do they not care at all about what I had to say?

The public defender touches my back gently. "Just hold on," he whispers.

The Judge nods, face completely vacant. "And the new charges of murder and arson relating to the defendant's time and conduct in Lilydale Foundation Center?"

It feels like minutes pass, and I realize I'm not breathing. But the lead juror glances over at me quickly before looking back at the Judge. "Not guilty, Your Honor."

Not… guilty.

Holy fuck. That's… a start, right?

"Thank you. The Jury is now excused," the Judge says, waiting as the bailiff escorts them from the room.

"What happens now?" I whisper to the public defender.

He nods toward the Judge. "She'll review your original sentence."

I just nod, hugging my frame as I stay standing while the rest of the room sits. The Judge reviews the paperwork in front of her before peering down at me .

"Ms. White, I want to start off by making it clear that what you suffered is unacceptable and inhumane. However, we're guided by law and precedent, and regardless of the circumstances, you unfortunately still fulfilled the definition of involuntary manslaughter."

Tears prick in my eyes but I force myself to maintain eye contact. I give her a little respectful nod of acknowledgment.

"That being said," she continues. "I'm taking into consideration time already served. This, along with the mistreatment you received while under the care of the Lilydale Foundation Center."

Fuzz circles in my brain, static electricity humming in my ears. What is she saying?

"In a perfect world, Ms. White, you would not have been found guilty.

Nor should you have endured such mistreatment while you should have been receiving professional help.

Unfortunately, that isn't always the case in complicated matters such as these.

" Pausing, she clears her throat. "Taking into consideration the witness statement from your treating psychiatrist, the report submitted by the Ridgeview Valley Rehabilitation Home in relation to your current stay and cooperation, the investigation report pertaining to Lilydale and the evidence submitted today, I have reached my decision. "

I wait, holding my breath as she watches me closely.

"I'm ordering that your sentence be deemed satisfied and final. And with our deepest apologies for what you have endured, I wish you the very best in the next stages of your life. You are free to go."