Page 36 of Saving Tracey (Finding Hope #1)

Chapter Twenty

TRACEY

I squeezed Trevor's hand tightly in my own, my knuckles turning white from the grip I had on his hand. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to face him.

Hell, I couldn't face him. I always froze up, and I always panicked. Today wasn't going to be any different.

"Baby, you've got this," Trevor told me gently as he kissed the top of my head.

I just stared at the large courthouse doors in front of me, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I shrieked when someone walked up and put their hand on my shoulder.

I swung around so fast that I staggered back into Trevor, who gripped my hips to keep me from falling.

Gabriel gave me a small, apologetic smile, putting his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

"You okay, girly?"

I blew out a harsh breath, and Trevor rubbed his hands up and down my arms soothingly. "You've got this, baby; I promise," Trevor murmured in my ear again, desperately trying to soothe my nerves.

I swallowed hard, turning toward the courthouse doors again. "If I stay out here, I'm never going to go in," I admitted, wiping my sweaty hands on my slacks.

With his hand on my lower back, Trevor led me through the courthouse doors.

As soon as we entered the courtroom, nausea swirled in my stomach.

My dad was sitting in a chair on the defendant's side.

His hands were cuffed in front of him, and he was looking at his lawyer, taking in everything he was saying.

He turned his green eyes to me when I entered the room, and I halted in my tracks, bile rising in my throat.

“I—I can’t,” I choked out, backing up as my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

Every single fiber of my being was telling me to run like fucking hell. I wanted out of there—away from him.

Trevor grabbed my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips. His eyes bore into mine as he tucked my hair behind my ear with his other hand. "You have to be strong, Tracey. I know you can do this.”

My bottom lip trembled, tears filling my eyes.

A pained look passed through Trevor’s eyes.

Not giving a fuck about anyone else in the room, he pulled me to him and kissed me, instantly calming my nerves.

I melted into him, gripping his leather jacket in my fists.

When he pulled back, he rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb.

"Only you can put him away, baby. You have to do this.”

I blew out a harsh breath and resumed walking to the plaintiff's table, taking my seat beside the lawyer Angelina had hired for me this morning. The lawyer—Carl Grayson—gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

I couldn't answer him. My dad's eyes were boring into the side of my head, and it was making me highly uncomfortable. Sweat was trickling down my back. It was like being right back where I was months ago.

I turned to look behind me, catching Angelina's eyes. She gave me a small, encouraging smile. I turned back around to face the front, blowing out a harsh breath.

I couldn't do this.

When the judge entered the room, everyone stood up, waiting for him to sit before we all did. I could barely hold myself up. My legs were shaking so badly that I was gripping the table with a white-knuckled grip to keep myself upright.

"You all may be seated,” the judge’s voice boomed out through the courtroom.

I heavily collapsed into my chair, dropping my face into my hands.

I sucked in a large breath of air, desperately trying to calm my nerves.

Carl leaned over to me. "They're about to call your father up to the stand, and his lawyer is going to ask him some questions, and then I'm going to.

Once he's off the stand, then you'll be called up, okay?

Do you remember how to respond to the questions his lawyer may throw at you? "

I swallowed hard, nodding mutely. I could remember them now, but at this rate, I wasn't even going to remember my fucking name when I finally made it to the stand.

"Henry Olive, will you please step up to the stand?" the judge asked, turning his eyes to my father.

My dad rose to his feet, and I shrunk back in my chair. If it were possible, he'd only gotten larger and beefier since he had been locked away. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain I would suffer if he made it out of this courtroom today.

After agreeing to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, his lawyer stood up, facing him. "Mr. Olive, is it true that you abused your daughter for the seventeen years she's been alive?"

"No." His voice was strong and confident as he met his lawyer's eyes, the lie easily slipping past his lips.

My stomach dropped to my feet. I had forgotten how good of a liar my father could be.

"So, it’s not true that you raped her, either?" I winced at the word rape, swallowing down the vomit that rose in my throat.

"No,” my dad said in that same tone he had used to answer the last question, not even phased by the questions that his lawyer was throwing at him.

"Then, Mr. Olive, could you explain to us the hand and fist-shaped bruises covering your daughter's body, as well as the obvious sexual abuse she obtained?

" His attorney gestured to the screen on the wall where all of the pictures were on display that Mrs. Freeman had taken when I had been admitted to the hospital.

My dad looked at me, his eyes cold and filled with so much hatred that I visibly flinched in my seat. I saw him fight the smirk wanting to take over his face, but he eventually shoved it down. I could taste the acid in my throat.

I had to keep my composure. I had to make it through this day, at least.

"Tracey had a boyfriend that she kept from me—my boss's son, Kaleb, I believe his name was.” My jaw dropped open in astonishment.

“When she started flinching away from me and became increasingly withdrawn, her mother and I tried to help her.

The boy made Tracey go to the hospital and lie about her mother and me abusing her.

We only wanted to help her." The fake concern in his voice sounded so legit that I almost gave up on this whole thing.

I was never going to be able to put him away forever.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around myself. My dad was good, I would give him that. I had never anticipated him using Kaleb to get out of trouble.

A few more questions were asked, and my lawyer went up to ask him the same kinds of questions. When I was called to the stand, I was light-headed, and I was regretting ever eating that morning.

"Miss Olive, you have made claims that your father has abused you, am I correct?"

I nodded my head. "Y-yes," I said, trying to make my voice come out strong, but it cracked.

"Miss Olive, were you scared of your boyfriend and therefore blamed the bruises and sexual assault on your parents instead so he wouldn't hurt you anymore?"

I shook my head. “I—I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend," I admitted. "I didn't have any friends. It wasn't allowed."

My lawyer looked at me with pity for a moment but quickly recovered his features. "Miss Olive, many children go behind their parent's backs and do things they're not supposed to. Would you categorize yourself as one of those children?"

I shook my head at him. "No, sir. I was too afraid of my dad.”

"So, are you telling me everything that your father said was a lie?"

"Y-yes,” I stuttered, swallowing hard when I felt my dad's angry stare on me.

"Miss Olive, would you care to recount to us what happened on the night of July 9, 2007?"

Tears filled my eyes as the painful memory played through my head as if I were reliving it all over again. Shame washed over me, and I didn't dare look out into the crowd to meet Trevor's eyes—or anyone else’s for that matter.

I was too fucking ashamed of what he did to me, what I allowed happen because I was too afraid to fight back.

"I-I was just doing my h-homework," I stated, tripping over my words as I went into my own little world. My throat began closing up. Tears trickled down my face, but I didn't move to wipe them away. I clutched the edge of my seat so tightly that I began losing feeling in my fingers.

"My mom and dad had just got done arguing about bills and money. I always hated when they argued because he would always hit her." I could still remember the terror I felt when I heard skin collide with skin and my mom's cry of pain, begging him to stop hurting her.

"I remember hearing the back-door slam, and my mom's silent cries from the kitchen.

I left my homework on my desk and went to go check on her.

" I could still see my nine-year-old self tiptoeing into the kitchen holding a box of band-aids.

I had just wanted to help her—fix her cuts.

"Mom was on the floor, leaning against the cabinets, and she was holding her face. Her nose and lips were bleeding."

A sob ripped out of my chest, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to calm myself down enough to tell the story. I had already told it once today, but repeating it again was so fucking painful. I couldn't stop, but at the same time, I was dying to not have to say anything more.

"I didn't hear the backdoor open, and my mom didn't bother to tell me he was back.

I wasn't supposed to be out of my room." My tears were landing on my lap by this point, but I wouldn’t look up.

"He grabbed my hair, and he yanked me up off of the floor by the handful of hair he was holding.

I remember screaming, begging him to let my hair go.

He was hurting me." Another sob ripped out of my throat.

"He slammed my head on the countertop and wrapped his hands around my throat.

" I rubbed my throat, still feeling as if his large hands were still constricting my airflow.

"He was yelling at me, but I couldn't hear anything.

My ears were ringing, and my head was throbbing.

I had black spots in my vision." I still didn't look up at anyone.

I was getting to the hardest part of the story to tell, the part where I had to stop when I was telling the lawyer because it was too hard to recount.

I had to do it this time, though. I had to tell; if I wanted any chance at putting my dad behind bars for good, I had to uncover this dark truth.

"My mom didn't say anything. She just watched with practically no emotion as he slung me on the floor.

I was wearing a nightgown, and it rode up to my waist when I slid across the floor.

" This night was the whole reason I never wore nightgowns or dresses.

I didn't dare look a skirt's way. "H-He kn-knelt on the f-floor beside m-me.

" I whimpered, stuttering, my chest feeling as if it were being squeezed to the point it was getting hard to breathe.

"He had th-this scary l-look in his eyes, and h-his p-pants got tight when he g-got hard." I heard a few gasps from Angelina, Glenda, Olivia, and Krista.

"H-he gripped my wrist and p-pulled my hand to his pants, d-demanding m-me to p-pleasure him." My shoulders shook as I sobbed into my hands. I was crying so hard that I could barely speak. I was stuttering and tripping over my words by that point, but I had to continue.

"I-I didn't know wh-what t-to d-do. I was n-nine,” I cried, practically hyperventilating I was crying so hard. "H-he got a-angry b-because I was d-doing it wr-wrong." I could still see the anger on his face as he began stripping his clothes off. "He r-ripped my n-nightgown off and m-my p-panties."

I wrapped my arms around myself, still feeling him gripping my thighs, still feeling him ripping me apart on the inside.

"I-I remembered b-begging for my m-mom to h-help me, t-to make h-him s-stop.

She j-just l-laughed and t-told h-him to proceed, that I-I deserved it.

I f-felt l-like I-I was b-being r-ripped apart. "

"That's enough,” the judge ordered, slamming his gavel, making me shriek in fear and jump back. "Miss Olive," I looked up at him, his face hazy through my tears, "you are free to go home, young lady. I promise you won't ever have to worry about this man hurting you ever again."

Tears of relief began mixing with my tears of pain. I stood up to step down from the bench as the judge sentenced my dad to prison. "Henry Olive, I sentence you twenty-five to life in prison. You will not be granted probation or parole."

"What?!" my father roared, making me cringe as I stepped down from the witness stand. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

My lawyer quickly rushed to my side as my dad jumped up from his chair, his eyes intent on me.

I ducked my head as cops rushed at him from all sides.

I could hear my dad fighting against them.

I kept my eyes on the ground, desperately trying to get out of the courtroom as fast as I could.

I didn't even want to stop to be held by Trevor.

I fucking wanted out.

"Gun!" someone screamed.

" Tracey !" I heard Trevor holler, panic clear in his voice.

As soon as the sound of a gun being fired cracked through the air, I screamed in agony, the bullet piercing my back. I crumbled to the floor, my screams of agony bouncing off the walls.

"Someone call 911!" I heard Trevor roar. I clenched my fists, tears of pain streaming down my cheeks. Slowly, I turned my head to the side. Trevor was on his knees beside me, tears running down his face. I could feel blood running off of my back and down my sides, dripping to the floor.

I was fading in and out so quickly that I could barely register the fact that there was pain pulsing through my back.

I closed my eyes, snapping them back open at the sound of Trevor's voice. "Baby, please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. "Stay awake, baby, please." He peppered kisses all over my hands.

He looked up at Dale. "You're a doctor!" Trevor yelled at his adopted dad. I closed my eyes again. "Can't you fucking do something?!"

"Trevor," I whispered. I was losing consciousness.

He gripped my hands tightly, kissing my knuckles over and over again. I weakly opened my eyes again, just wanting to see his perfect face one more time. "What, baby? Tell me. I'm right here." His broken tone destroyed my heart.

"I love you," I whispered, shutting my eyes.

I heard shouting in the distance, someone ordering people to move.

Trevor squeezed my hands tighter, his tears dropping onto my hands, running down my arms. "Baby, wake up," Trevor begged.

"Baby, please, don't fucking leave me. I love you. I fucking need you,” he choked out, his voice breaking, his tone ringing with the pain he was feeling.

Everything went dark.