CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: COURT

The life of the Addict is always the same. There is no excitement, no glamour, no fun. There are no good times, there is no joy, there is no happiness. There is no future and no escape. There is only an obsession. An all-encompassing, fully enveloping, completely overwhelming obsession. To make light of it, brag about it, or revel in the mock glory of it is not in any way, shape or form related to its truth, and that is all that matters, the truth.
-James Frey

The jury and judge already got briefed and informed about the problems, given little bits of information and had both lawyers argue about if my addiction could be stated in court -if it was relevant. I know it is, apparently so did the judge.

"This is a story about addiction. I'm not going to lie, that's how this all started. We wouldn't be here today if it wasn't true. Addiction tends to be a lot more than we think it is...it's a blindness, in a way. A wreckage of shattered personalities and splintered minds. Think as if my client's mentality was a fragile house sucked into a tornado. As if it was a boat, and the icebergs and rapids it's sent through are her abusive parents, abusive friend. The only thing she can control is how she feels, or rather, how little she feels. It's a powerless feeling, being stuck between abuse and addiction. She chose addiction to stop feeling the abuse."

My eyes are stuck on the table, clutching my shaking hands together as my eyes water. I didn't quite know how listening to my lawyer dissect my life would feel but it wasn't like this.

"And for a while, this worked."

I have to wonder yet again how good of a person I'd be if I never got into drugs, who I would have in my life or if I would even still be alive.

"It's only after rehabilitation that an addiction becomes a story at all, and I'm the only one here who will tell you the raw truth of it."

Raw.

That's exactly how I feel right now.

Bare, exposed, entire mind sore.

"My client was twelve the first time she did drugs, thirteen when she got drunk. Raped at fourteen by her abusive best friends older brother, which her parents knew. They approved of the relationship. Still only fourteen the first time she tried to kill herself and got sent to a mental institution where she was physically abused by the staff. Fifteen when hard drugs got involved and rehab didn't work. When she was sixteen, she tried to kill herself three times. She got her heart to spasm for thirty seconds and stopped for three minutes. From the age of thirteen to seventeen, she was self harming. She still has the scars."

She still has the scars.

Why do they need to know that? I don't -I don't like my scars.

"And her parents, these multi-million dollar business class workers, knew about it all. They knew when she got into drugs, and did nothing. They knew when she started drinking, they did nothing. They knew when she tried to kill herself, and they reacted. By kicking her out of the house because blood is hard to clean up and the only thing her father told her to do, was try to kill herself again. The only good thing they've ever done was make a rehabilitation center for their daughter, but that too was just another business deal."

Maybe if I was a business deal, if I could bring them profit, they'd love me.

"They are adulterers, liars, child abusers, guilty of child neglect and gas-lighting -that's making someone feel crazy for thinking they're being abused when they are, in layman's terms." Emmeline pauses, eyes scanning the crowd. "But most notably, and what they'll focus on, is how they're green-thumbed business CEO's of a company designed to say people in the condition their daughter was in. That they're family people to the best of their ability with an uncontrollable wild girl as a daughter. They're religious, and their pastor likes them. But today, you'll learn the difference between fact and perception."

Though I think my lawyer just said everything in a great way, I soon realize that when my father takes the stand that the defense is prepared to break me down in every way.

First my fathers goes on about how when I first started acting out, I slashed his tires. He doesn't mention that he first burned my school backpack and everything in it for thinking I smelled like pot.

Next he says "I said it back then, when she was fourteen, that she became a slut. I regret that word choice now, but she was very promiscuous at that age." while in the same breath saying he didn't blame me for being a misguided child.

Does he not know that if someone has sex at fourteen that it's rape? Does he not know that I was misguided because when he found out I was 'dating' a much older boy my own father gave me condoms so I wouldn't get pregnant. Before that very same older boy found the condoms in my purse, sex wasn't on the table.

Even bender that ended with me getting my stomach pumped, every blood stained carpet and vomit stained shirt is put on display, every bad decision I ever clued my parents in on in hopes that they would help me is now doing the opposite.

It's all described to portray me as a thoughtless addict who doesn't know when to leave when she should, who isn't smart enough to make a good decision.

This feels terrible.

And I don't know how I'm not crying.

"Judge?" I raise my hand, interrupting my father's testimony without consciously doing it.

All eyes turn to me.

Shit wait no, what the fuck did I just do?

"It's okay," Wolf leans over to me, tapping on the table. "Speak your mind. The judge likes strong opinions."

"I don't...I don't know if I'm allowed to object or not." Is the first thing I say. "And I know I'm supposed to just listen to him, I mean, but when I work with patients who have gone through what I've been through and they're put in the same place as their abuser as long as their abuser can't hurt them again when they leave I don't let them take any disrespect. Can you please, as a holder of rights and protector of justice, let my father know that he should be less concerned with why I stayed in a home where I was being abused and more concerned with the fact there was people in the house abusing me. People meaning him."

The judge tells the jury to keep my statement in mind, but that he can't make my father realize anything he should have already long ago.

Would it be too much at this point to assume that she's on my side?

"You are out of line, little girl," My father snaps, making me shrink in on myself. "I haven't put you through anything! I'm not an abuser or an angry man. You're an addict who just wants to get high and sleep around. Your life is hard because you've made it hard."

"Clearly my client is sticking hard to his position, though less emotional, I do have to agree. She was never forced to take drugs."

Yes I was.

"She was never forced to have sex."

Yes I was.

"Her parents aren't responsible and they certainly haven't done anything directly to her. She asked for what happened to her, literally. She chose that life. My clients don't deserve this."

Behind me, Jem puts his hand on my shoulder and I know if Micah could reach me he would too.

At this point, the rage I feel, it builds up and up.

People get bent out of shape over a privilege being given to someone in need when they've had it their whole life, they've just never had it taken away. I've seen people complain that addicts get a place to live and recover sometimes for free just because they want to kill themselves, or how an abused woman gets help from the underground railroad or a disabled person gets checks.

I try to explain this to people, to put it in perspective and stop their ignorance from flying from their mouth like venom.

I try to help.

I tell them to pretend they have two kids in front of them, and they can give one kid a cookie every time they see them but the other kid only gets half a cookie if that. So the next time they'd give the kid with half a cookie another half cookie to make a whole cookie, but the kid who always gets the cookie throws a temper tantrum about how the other kid gets two cookies.

And now my parents.

My rich, white, straight, never had to seriously work a day in their life and not opposed or addicted or abused parents are telling me that they didn't do anything wrong.

That they don't deserve this.

Fuck. No.

"Don't you dare tell me I haven't gone through anything because of my parents! They have traumatized me. My mother told me I wasn't good enough and slapped me, so my dad laughed when I cried and told me that when I kill myself to call him because he wants to have a glass of wine and watch." I snarl, standing up out of my seat as finally, finally, I snap. "And then I told myself 'stop being so weak, behave, get over it and just remember to die soon' and I went numb from there."

I take it as a green light that my lawyer, her secretary and the judge don't try to stop me.

"Two days later I tried to end my life. A week after that my father found out and handcuffed me to a bedpost and kept me there for two days because I didn't do paperwork he wanted me to do. The next time I tried to kill myself I overdosed and the only person who noticed was the guy I was sleeping with to get drugs because my parents kicked me out. They said they didn't want to have to clean up anymore blood. They said they couldn't stand me!"

My voice echoes around the courtroom, cracking and sad.

"The time after that my father broke a wine bottle on my skull to try and finish the job because he didn't want his business passed onto someone so useless like me. My mother beat me with her client's metal cane while he watched. The last time I tried to kill myself, it worked and my parents sued the hospital for revival efforts and the money it cost when I clearly wanted to stay dead. The only good thing they've ever done for me is make a rehabilitation center for me to stay in and even that was an excuse to not parent and make money at the same time. I have been beaten, sexually harassed, abused, neglected. I have been torn apart by my parents. I have done drugs and drank myself into oblivion to escape them and my abusive best friend who they treated like a favorite child as they let her older brother take advantage of me."

Face red with anger, eyes full of tears I begin to break down.

They can't win.

They can't.

Jeremiah's the one who climbs over the divider to hold me, Micah's sudden loud cough posing as the distraction so the guard can't stop my best friend.

"It is not up for discussion," My lawyer calmly continues on for me. "They were never fit to be parents, they aren't fit to control an organization that controls the minds of damaged youths who pose risks to themselves and others. My client is not after money. She is not after revenge when so many in her place would be. What she wants is best for children who want to die and try to slit their wrists every day, that by no means is an exaggeration. AJ can tell you the names and family members of every single patient that she has ever worked with, she can tell you all the ways she's saved them while staying humble. Giving someone the ability to love themselves is a talent not even most goddess' can muster-"

I really hope that's not a hidden pun on my name.

"-and yet this girl, this nice, kind girl who has made herself into the most understanding and gentle person after years of hard work and fighting for herself is asking you one thing. If you could save someone from themselves, if you could save someone in your family or one of your friends who have died because they committed would you fight like hell to stop them? Or would you ask yourself, how much money can I get for letting them die?"

Frowning at this, I meet my father's eye only to flinch at the steady, harsh glare he's giving me. I never thought about it like that, I never thought they wouldn't replace me.

Without me though, I doubt the business would prosper like it used to and taking over my entire case load, hours and responsibilities would be nearly impossible with all the new information and techniques someone would have to learn.

Soon my father's testimony- -my mother not taking the stand or on the witness list- -is over and I'm on the stand, facing both lawyers and the jury beside me.

God this is intimidating.

That or I'm just intimidated -I always get those two confused.