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Willow

Five months later

I reapplied lip balm for the third time, clicked the lid shut as I puffed out a heavy breath. Heavy sighs were the only reprieve from the rock of anxiety sitting in my stomach. Even then, it was only a temporary relief.

Glancing up in the public bathroom mirror, I fiddled with every part of my outfit as if I hadn’t spent months deciding what to wear.

I opened and closed my black blazer, pulled Nana Jean’s lotus flower necklace from beneath my camel-coloured roll neck and back again.

I swiped the brown belt through loops, the buckle sitting off-centre no matter how hard I tried.

Stray hairs fought against the straighteners I’d forced against them hours earlier.

“You look great, stop fiddling.”

I jumped at the unexpected voice beside me, turning to find Elle. She looked reserved. She’d removed her piercings and her fire-red hair up in a low, subtle ponytail. She wore a black corduroy flared suit, a cream open neck blouse beneath. It was a demure version of the wild girl I knew.

“When did you get here?” My eyes darted around her, finding the bathroom otherwise empty.

“Like ten minutes ago. Everyone’s outside. We’ve just been called in.”

I stared wide-eyed at her.

“Everyone?”

She nodded, a sympathetic smile forming.

“Mhm. I even managed to drag Ant out the house.” She palmed my shoulder and turned us to face the mirror, peering at our reflection with her chin on my shoulder. I looked terrified, where she looked nervous. “How’re you feeling?”

I blew out a long, shuddering breath. “I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“You’ve done the hard bit. Whatever happens today, you’re safe now.”

I offered a forced smile. There was nothing anyone could do or say to make me feel better, not until we had a decision.

“Come on, let’s go.”

I dropped my balm into my bag, took a final deep breath and followed her .

Seven heads snapped in my direction, varying shades of worry and concern covering each one.

Jack pushed towards me as soon as the door shut behind me, taking my hands in his and bringing them to his mouth with a soft kiss. He was dressed in a charcoal suit with a matching tie. The outfit only highlighted his salt and pepper hair. On any other day, I’d find him delicious.

He stepped to the side, allowing Fran, Mack, and Silas to envelope me in their respective arms. Mike and Lu offered tight smiles with caring nods, while Ant stood at the back of the group looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The final call came through the Tannoy and we stepped into action. I gripped Jack’s hand. He was my anchor, my saviour, my power source. My favourite people in all the world follow behind me, like we were taking on the world.

I guess we were. We were taking on the British justice system. We were taking on Cain.

I sat along the front row, Jack on my right and Fran on his.

Elle whispered behind me, forcing her brother to shuffle along so she could be as close to me as possible.

I couldn’t bear to look to my left. If I did, I knew I’d find his parents, Chris and Maura, wiping their tears away, his brother Ramsay glaring at me.

Their emotions were justifiable, this was their son, their brother and to them, I was ruining his life.

Shame he’d tried to ruin mine first.

The tension in the courtroom and only increased when a door to the left of the room opened.

Cain and two police officers slipped through, and he was guided to the seats before us.

My grip on Jack’s hand tightened as he passed us.

I avoided his toxic gaze, focusing on the wood panelling at the far end of the room, biting the inside of my cheek so hard, I was sure I’d draw blood.

I was desperate to escape, get some fresh air into my lungs. Standing when the judge entered, I took a moment to recalibrate. I was here for a reason. To fight for the Willow who endured years of judgement, fear and torture.

“Members of the jury,” the judge announced, her voice echoing clearly through the speakers.

“You have heard all of the testimonies concerning this case. You have utilised your time to determine what the evidence proves and have advised us that you have reached a communal verdict against the defendant, Cain Heller.”

As she spoke, I leaned into a daydream to a life beyond the case.

For the past six months, Fran and I had worked alongside the police and Jack’s solicitor.

If we weren’t providing evidence and discussing the legalities, I was thinking about them.

I’d been prepared for the defence team’s line of questioning, that they’d gaslight me into whether seven years’ worth of abuse had actually happened or was a figment of my imagination .

Jack held me through all the tears and loved me through every difficult retelling. He’d put in the hours and commitment no matter what the case brought us or how I reacted.

Fran was coping a little better than I was.

She’d plucked herself off the ground and was seemingly fine, though I suspected she’d burrowed it beneath other layers of emotional baggage her too-young-body had already lived through.

I was insistent she shouldn’t negate her trauma, but she was equally as adamant her single experience of Cain was a drop in the ocean to mine.

She wasn’t wrong, but I’d never dream of saying it.

Her dad eyed her with caution every day, calling her most days when she’d returned to university.

And on the days he didn’t, he worried about her from afar.

Watching him parent close-up turned out to be an aphrodisiac I never saw coming.

We were firmly planted as one another’s family, and I was secure that would never change.

But creating our own family? That topic hadn’t been raised, and I didn’t want to pressure him, he’d already completed that phase of life after all.

Regardless, I was perfectly happy to jump his bones at every given opportunity.

I’d applied for the Domestic Abuse, Stalking and Sexual Violence online course I’d lusted over months prior.

I was ready to start in a few months on a part-time basis whilst still working at Lambert & Johnson.

Jack had suggested I go full-time and drop the job, but I wanted to contribute to the household bills.

It had turned into a heated argument – me demanding I wanted to fund my way, him insisting I didn’t have to.

Eventually he relented, appreciating this was another way of spreading my wings and becoming independent.

Until graduation, I’d continue to work part-time as Jack’s assistant.

I’d returned to work mid-April, itching to fill my time.

It was nice to see everyone, receive my full income and see more of my delicious-as-fuck boss, knowing we’d be driving home together that night for more quality time.

We couldn’t get enough of each other. With anyone else, living and working together from the off would be unfathomable, but with Jack it was the most normal thing in the world.

I was jolted from my fuzzy daydream when Jack’s hand tightened. I glanced at him, and he jerked his chin towards the judge. I finally allowed myself to glare at Cain’s back. With his hands crossed behind his back, he looked authoritative rather than entering his downfall.

The judge faced the jury, the foreman now standing. “Have you, the jury, reached a verdict upon which you all agree?”

“Yes,” the short bald man with a white moustache replied.

“We will go through each of the charges in order of severity. ”

My stomach churned. I sure was I’d be sick. Clamping my eyes, I took a soothing breath.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty of attempted murder?”

The dramatic pause dragged for what felt like a lifetime. Blood pulsed in my ears. The only sound, my inhale and exhale, until he finally replied.

“Guilty.”

Cheers and claps erupted around me, but I remained still, focusing on the judge and jury.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty of actual bodily harm?” The response came quicker.

“Guilty.”

More cheers.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty of stalking?”

“Guilty.”

A clap to my shoulder from behind. Tears fell but I still couldn’t breathe. It was the final charge that would make or break me. Make me feel seen and heard or discarded and insignificant.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty of domestic abuse?”

Ringing started and I shook. An arm wrapped around my shoulders, based on the scent that engulfed me, I assumed it to be Jack’s.

“ Guilty .”

Sobs I’d held in for seven and a half years wracked my body. I was tugged sideways into Jack’s chest while hands patted me from all angles. A hand soothed my hair. I was completely overwhelmed, but it was done. It was over, and I could finally move on and love a life I wanted to live.

The judge continued to speak, but I couldn’t register her words, tearing from Jack’s embrace when we were instructed to stand. Cain was being tugged from the court room, hiding his face in shame.

Loud wails escaped his mother. Despite my elation, my heart broke at what this meant for her.

She was losing her son for an undetermined amount of time.

To her, he was the little boy who lost teeth and was excited about the tooth fairy, hand-made Mother’s Day cards and helped her decorate the Christmas tree.

Somewhere along the way, something cracked inside him.

I wasn’t rushing to find out how or why it happened.

Jack pulled me to my feet, collecting my bag. The rest of our group were already out the door, ready to celebrate, but I was in a state of shock. Brushing his hands down my arms, I focused on his perfect face. Free of stubble and perfectly groomed, his smile was soft .

“It’s over, sweetheart. You’ve done so well, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Maybe you don’t realise it right now, but soon you’ll see how far you’ve come.” Palms on my shoulders, he pecked my lips. “Ready to go?”

I nodded, allowing him to tug me from the pews and out the door.

I remained silent as we left the courthouse and roamed down the street towards the restaurant. We’d either celebrate or commiserate in style, I was thankful it was the latter.

Jack and I strolled hand in hand behind everyone. I hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the bathroom. Every few steps, his eyes darted between the path and me, rubbing his thumb over mine in comforting strokes.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He stopped in the street.

I forced a smile. Was I okay? It was a loaded question, one I don’t think I knew the answer to yet.

“I—”

I glanced around me, opening and closing my mouth wordlessly, until suddenly something in a shop window caught my eye. Strings from the ceiling to the floor held torn paper with varying styles of artwork. My eyes caught on one in particular.

“I’ll catch you up,” I mumbled to Jack, opening the door to the store before he could argue. I vaguely registered him calling after the rest of the group, telling them to continue without us.

I was greeted by a heavily tattooed woman with vibrant purple hair and a wide grin perched on a stool behind a black desk.

“I’d like to get a tattoo, please? Specifically, one on show in the window.” I popped a thumb over my shoulder.

She rounded the reception to the window to pull down the string of art.

“Willow? What are you doing?” Jack eyed me curiously.

“I’m healing.” I smiled up at him. Confidence pooling in my stomach for the first time that day. With an arm around my waist, he pulled me in, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Whatever you need to do, gorgeous girl. I’m so proud of you.”

After picking the art I’d set my heart on, I was ushered into a studio at the back of the workshop and onto the black chair, Jack perching on a stool beside me.

The artist relaxed me with her northern drawl and bright smile, explaining the process and wrapping a stencil over my skin.

The sting of the needle was cathartic, permanently penetrating my skin with ink.

It was the perfect ending to this act of life.

Occasionally, I’d shift and jerk when the needle hit a particularly sensitive spot, but through it all, Jack remained as steadfast as ever.

His face may have turned a shade of grey that battled his hair, but his love for me was unwavering .

“Thank you, lamb,” I whispered so only he could hear. “I love you more than you could ever know.” He turned back to me, avoiding the sight of the needle, tugging the hand in his to his lips.

“All done,” she announced proudly, wiping my finger before allowing me to lift my left hand to the light. I gasped with excitement as I twisted my hand to get a full view.

It hid the scarring that tormented me from the corner of my eye or whenever I brushed the skin.

I could see the sadness in Jack’s eyes if he glanced at it.

I was tired of the reminder of what my life had been.

My new ink would still be a reminder. There was a before Cain and an after.

But no matter what, there was always a Willow Jean Thornton.

Wrapped around my left ring finger was a willow branch. The scar was perfectly hidden by the woven leaves and branch.

“Adaptability, resilience and rebirth,” I muttered in awe.

“A perfect tattoo for a perfect girl,” Jack rubbed my back. Launching into his arms with a toothy kiss and mutual laughter, I felt on top of the world.

After paying for my new ink, we left for the restaurant with renewed energy and excitement for the future.

For the first time in my adult life, my future felt full of hope and promises that could be fulfilled.

I knew whatever came, I’d never question the love I was surrounded by.

Those sat at the long table, sharing warm bread and olive oil, had stood by me through the worst of times, and were ready to welcome the best of times.

But it was the man beside me, the one who poured me a glass of my favourite red wine and brushed the hair from my face with adoration and care, the one who loved me secretly and now unsecretly that lit my world from within, setting the sky alight with warmth like a hot summers’ day.

Jack Lambert had offered me a save place in his home, but he was my real haven.