"I don't know what to tell you; court is about to start, and you can't leave."

Kennedy sighed loudly, rolling her eyes in Hotchky's direction.

"I need to go check on something. It's important."

"Kennedy, you need to sit down and calm down. Whatever it is, it can wait until after court adjourns."

Kennedy sat down in her seat behind the defense table, folding her arms and pouting like a toddler who didn't get their way. She had forgotten her lucky ring at her apartment in the rush to get out the door that morning. She had tried to wear the ring every day for the past six years, and whenever she didn't have it with her, she felt like the day was destined to be terrible.

But the logical voice in the very back of her head told her that her thinking the day was going to be terrible, probably ended up making the day terrible regardless.

"All rise," the bailiff spoke as Judge Adamson entered the room, her robes skimming the floor as she walked. She was wearing flats today, and Kennedy couldn't see her shoes. She had made a game with herself out of noticing the judge's shoes every day—Kennedy had always thought that a person's shoes said a lot about them. Adamson had only worn flats once before, on the previous Monday, and Kennedy hadn't been able to see them very well either. She liked the shoes that Adamson had worn the previous Thursday best so far; they had been navy blue stilettos with gold leaves circling the heel as it went down. It had taken all of Kennedy's willpower not to ask Adamson where she got them. She was pretty sure Hotchky would wring her neck if she pulled a stunt like that.

"You may be seated," Adamson nodded towards the room at large and everyone sat, "We will begin today's proceedings with the defense's witnesses. Counsel, are you ready to proceed?"

Brianne stood up from her chair and nodded in Judge Adamson's direction.

"Yes, Your Honor."

She looked behind her for a second, checking to see if her first witness was in the room. After a few seconds of silence, she turned back to the judge. "The defense would like to call Violet Stern to the stand."

Kennedy turned around to see her old neighbor, Violet, standing up from her seat in the back of the courtroom and making her way towards the witness stand. Violet didn't make eye contact with Kennedy as she walked, and while the rational part of her brain told her this was because she was on trial for murder, the paranoid part told her it was because she could still picture the ring sitting on her nightstand.

Violet swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and then sat down. Brianne walked up a few steps closer, before beginning her questions.

"Miss Stern, how do you know the defendant?"

Violet glanced over at Kennedy for the first time since she had walked to the stand, before looking back at Brianne as if she didn't know who Kennedy was.

"I was her next-door neighbor for a year or so."

"When, approximately, did you live next door to Miss Abrams?"

Violet thought for a moment, appearing to count back.

"From September of 2019 to July of 2020."

Brianne nodded, "And while you are the defendant's neighbor, did you ever hear anything unusual coming from the defendant's apartment?"

"Yes," Violet responded, "quite a few times."

Brian nodded encouragingly, and Kennedy wondered if the jury also thought that she was coaxing answers out of Violet.

"Can you describe one of those instances?"

Violet was quiet for a minute, and Kennedy found herself praying for the first time since she could remember that this girl whom she had spoken with probably three times in her life wouldn't be the reason she ended up in prison.

"I remember one night in particular," Violet spoke finally, "where I was woken up around 1:00 AM because there was a man that screaming and banging on a door near my front door. I got out of bed to tell the guy to go away, but when I got close to my front door I started listening to what he was actually saying. He was screaming about how the person in the apartment had left him unfairly, and how he was going to get her back even if she tried to stop him. He kept screaming all this really vulgar stuff, about how he owned her and he would tell everyone everything about her if she didn't open the door.

"I finally opened my door when it seemed like he had calmed down a little bit, and saw that he was standing outside of Kennedy's front door. I had talked to Kennedy maybe once before, when I moved into the apartment. When I opened my door, the guy seemed to get scared and ran off. That night was probably the worst one that I heard while I lived in that building."

Kennedy remembered that night well. It had been in early July, just a month or so before she met Rebecca. She had sat on her kitchen floor, listening to Hank banging on her front door and screaming awful things while she sobbed into her lap, rocking back and forth. Neither Lyla nor Rian had been home at the time, and she had been terrified that Hank would find a way to break down the door, and she would be defenseless. She hadn't known why the screaming suddenly stopped, but she remembered not being able to sleep at all for the rest of the night. The ensuing nightmares lasted over two weeks.

"And around how many times would you guess that you heard something similar to what you just described happening outside of the defendant's door?" Brianne asked, clearly pleased with the direction that the questioning was going.

"Maybe six or seven times when I was living there." Violet answered, her eyes wandering over the different members of the jury. "And it was usually the same stuff, the yelling and banging and demanding that the door open. There was one time that I called the police, but by the time they got there, he had gotten tired and left. The cops got mad at me for wasting their time in the middle of the night. I remember that one."

Kennedy remembered that one as well. The police had knocked on her door to question her after speaking with Violet, but they hadn't even written anything down that she told them. They told her that if it happened again, she should try and make him stay long enough for them to arrive and arrest him. They had also suggested installing security cameras, but when Kennedy had asked her landlord about that, he said it wasn't allowed in that specific building.

After Brianne asked a few more questions that were successful in giving Hank a more negative character description as a whole, she retired the floor to Jaxson.

Looking at the expression on ADA Karl's face, Kennedy wanted nothing more than to have her lucky ring on her left pinky finger. She needed all the good vibes she could get, even if they weren't going to do anything to change the outcome of her trial.

"Miss Stern, did you ever hear a name come out of this man's mouth when he was banging on a door near yours?" Jaxson asked, pacing back and forth in front of the jury.

"I don't believe so," Violet shook her head, "at least, not that I can remember."

Jaxson nodded.

"And when you heard these disturbances, you weren't disoriented at all from the time of night?"

Violet shook her head again.

"No, sir."

"And if you had only met the defendant once before, how did you know with certainty that the apartment door in question belonged to her?"

Violet raised her eyebrows, looking at the ADA as if he were one of the less desirable girls at a sorority rush.

"Because she was my next-door neighbor. She was the only person in the building who bothered to come and introduce herself to me when I moved in. I remembered that. Also, she threw pretty loud parties every now and then."

"Would you stake your life on the fact that this was the defendant's apartment?"

"Objection, Your Honor." Brianne stood up out of her seat, gesturing towards Jaxson in exasperation. "This is an inappropriate line of questioning for a 22-year-old woman."

"22-year-old women can't stake their lives on their answers under oath?" Jaxson retorted, not bothering to wait for the judge to say a word. "I stand by that question, Ms. Hotchky."

"Mr. Karl, I would appreciate it if you would wait for me to speak before directing your comments at the opposing counsel." Judge Adamson said before Brianne could respond.

"Yes, your honor." Jaxson nodded apologetically, but the expression on his face when he turned around showed he had absolutely no remorse about placing doubt about Violet's testimony and the jury's minds.

"Objection sustained." Judge Adamson said, nodding in Brianne's direction. "Continue with a different line of questioning, Mr. Karl."

Jaxson nodded in silence and directed his attention back to Violet.

"Miss Stern, did you call the police about Mr Wilcox is disruptions?"

Violet looked confused, end glanced over at the judge as if wondering if this is an actual question.

"Yes," she said, "I believe that I already explained that."

"Then why are there no police reports from yourself to the Oconee County Police Department at all in the past two years?"

Violet raised her eyebrows, "like I said, the guy had already left, so they didn't really seem to believe anything I told them. They didn't write anything down and I wasn't under the impression that they were going to file any reports."

"I believe that police officers are required to file reports for any disturbance that they answer a call for." Jaxson replied, "Why do you believe that you were an exception?"

Violet shrugged, and Kennedy was impressed that she didn't seem to be getting thrown off by the ADA's questions.

"I don't know, sir. I'm not a police officer."

A few giggles came from members of the jury and Jaxson forced a smile.

"Of course not." He turned to Adamson, "I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor."

"Miss Stern, you may step down." The judge stated, and Violet walked past Kennedy without looking at her again. "Counsel, your next witness?"

"The defense would like to call Dr. Georgia Hadden to the stand." Brianne nodded.

The next two witnesses were a psychiatrist who passed ADA Karl's voir dire with flying colors, and Dr. Hilary Ortley, an expert on domestic abuse who Kennedy could tell barely scraped by her own voir dire. Both of their testimonies worked well in Kennedy's favor, explaining symptoms of PTSD to the jury as well as reasons Kennedy's actions could have very easily been explained through self-defense or the deep-seated fear of being assaulted or killed by Hank.

After Dr. Ortley concluded her testimony, the judge looked over and made direct eye contact with Kennedy for what was probably the first time in the entire trial.

"The defense's last witness, the defendant, will testify tomorrow when we begin court proceedings at 10:00 AM. Court is adjourned for the day."

Kennedy took a deep breath, and then another. She could do it. She could testify in eighteen hours. She wouldn't let Karl psych her out.

But the look on his face as he left the courtroom showed a man who was far too excited for the following day.

><><

For the first night in the past four, Rebecca had a Kennedy-free apartment.

It wasn't that she didn't want Kennedy around. She just...didn't want her around constantly. It was exhausting having someone constantly there, hanging around, and then using your car and leaving for hours at a time with no or limited communication.

It was nice to have a break.

And yet, even when Kennedy wasn't there, Rebecca still found herself focusing on Kennedy's case and Kennedy's family.

She had been staring at the notes from the private investigator for what felt like hours, but had, in reality, only been about twenty minutes. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the view outside Rebecca's window dark and dotted with lights where other apartment buildings and houses were. She had never appreciated the floor-to-ceiling windows more than she did when it was dark out—the dots of lights went on for miles and miles, and Rebecca felt like she could see the entirety of Clemson from her perch at the kitchen table.

Rebecca stared at the notes in front of her, going through the numbered list over and over again in her mind. She took sips of the hot chocolate in front of her every now and then, feeling like an old woman who couldn't drink coffee or have caffeine at night anymore unless she wanted to be up until four o'clock in the morning. Even though this December felt nothing like the ones that had come before, Rebecca still loved Christmas and everything it brought—time with family, peppermint-flavored everything, and decorations absolutely everywhere.

So, she drank her hot chocolate out of a red-and-green striped mug with a candy cane sticking out of the top, while sitting in her decoration-less apartment, reading through notes on Kennedy's family from a private investigator she hadn't even been able to hire herself.

How was Kennedy's dad even involved in this to begin with? Rebecca thought, I don't remember if he had an initial connection to Hank. Obviously, he's married to Lyla, but that happened more recently than when this weird website con thing started.

How did Lydia and Kristopher meet, and did he know Hank before he met Lydia? Did Hank introduce them? And where does Jaxson come into play? Did he ever date Lydia? Did Hank? Is Jaxson even interested in women?

Rebecca sighed heavily as she recognized the common thread who she had to speak with.

Lydia.

She checked the time; it was far too late to go over to Kennedy's stepmother's hotel. But Rebecca decided that before Kennedy's trial was over, she was going to talk to Lydia. It was time.