Chapter 15
Lucinda’s trial came in spring.
The criminal charge for assault was simple.
The rest was not.
Harassment.
Witness intimidation.
Violating the protective order.
Emotional abuse became harder to prove because bruises fade faster when they are inside.
Harper testified first.
I watched from the hallway because she asked me not to be in the room.
She said she could tell the truth if she did not have to watch me hear it.
When she came out, she looked empty.
Then she walked straight into my arms.
“She made me say I was better than you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I didn’t believe it.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to sometimes.”
“I know that too.”
She cried harder.
I held her until my shoulder hurt.
Then it was my turn.
The courtroom smelled like paper and old wood.
Lucinda sat at the defense table in pale blue.
She looked like someone’s mother.
Not like the woman who smashed my violin.
The prosecutor asked me what happened at the recital.
I told it from the beginning.
The bow.
The violin.
The shove.
The words.
Harper gets the solo.
I did not cry.
Lucinda watched me with a tiny smile.
Then her lawyer stood.
“Amelia, you are very talented, aren’t you?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
“And you enjoy attention?”
“No.”
“You performed publicly after this incident.”
“Yes.”
“So the event did not stop you.”
I looked at him.
“No. It tried to.”
The jury watched me.
He frowned.
“Your father is powerful, correct?”
“Yes.”
“People fear him?”
“Some people.”
“Is it possible your stepmother was afraid of losing her place in a home still ruled by your late mother’s memory?”
I looked at Lucinda.
For one moment, I saw it.
Her fear.
Her jealousy.
Her hunger to matter.
Then I looked back at the lawyer.
“Fear does not excuse hurting children.”
May you like
The courtroom went silent.
Lucinda stopped smiling.
