XxXx Don't: Part 12 xXxX

"Could you please, Miss Williams, tell us in your own words what happened
on the night of December the thirteenth, two thousand and one?," the prosecutor
asked a frightened Jane. She sat in the witness box, wearing the only nice
dress she owned, a long black sleeveless dress. Her curls kept falling into
her darting eyes, going from the prosecutor's face to her father's to the
jurors.

"I-It was about two in the morning, I guess. I came in my bedroom window,
hoping that my father wouldn't hear me. I was planning to run away and I
needed my things. And when I was about to leave... he was there," Jane started.
In the past seven days, she hadn't told the entire story to anyone. She
could feel tears begin their assault on her eyes and she braced herself.

She continued, "He... had a whip. And a gun. He whipped me and then hit
me with the gun... and I fell unconscious." Her eyes were glazed over with
tears and she wiped them away with her fingers. "I-I'm sorry."

"Take your time, Miss Williams," the prosecutor said. Jane took a deep breath
and hesitated before she went on.

"I woke up... tied to his bed... wearing nothing but a leather bustier or
something. He'd cut me all over my body. There were revolting sex toys on
the night stand next to his bed. Then he came in naked... and... and...
he raped me," she sobbed, tears streaking down her face.

"Would you like to stop, Miss Williams?," he asked.

"No. No, this has to be said," she shook her head.

"Had he ever done this before?"

"Y-Yes."

"On how many occasions?"

"Almost every day."

"When did this start?"

"R-Right after my mother died. When I was about ten or eleven."

"What happened after he raped you?"

"He left the room. He forgot something. He didn't say what. And I found
that the rope holding me down had been tied in such a way that if I pulled
hard enough, I could get free. I untied myself and put on my underwear and
my coat. The door was locked, so I took the gun and broke the window. I left
and brought the gun with me. I suppose my father wasn't far behind. I was
running and I ran into Dave... Dave Baker. I told him to call the police
and that I'd be at the old railroad station.

"I hid under a boxcar at the tracks and I heard my father calling me. He
found me and pulled me up. He shoved me up against the car and I saw he
had a knife. A huge butcher knife. He... he said that if I made a wrong
move... he said he'd fuck me with the knife."

"Were those his exact words?"

"He said, 'Make a wrong move and I swear I'll fuck you with this.' And he
put his other hand... in my pants. I kicked him in the groin and ran away.
I tripped and he came after me. I pointed the gun at him... and before I
could shoot, he stabbed me, and the gun went off. I fell back and I thought
he was dead. I believed he was dead until three days ago. And that's all
I remember," Jane finished her story, her eyes red and puffy and her breathing
uneven and labored.

"Why did you try to kill your father?"

"Because I was so sick and tired of him using my body. I was tired of him
having sex with me each and every night, making me perform manual and oral
sex on him whenever he pleased, and basically beating the shit out of me
emotionally and physically."

"Please refrain from using that language in my courtroom, Miss Williams," the
judge said.

"Yes, sir."

"No further questions, your Honor," the prosecutor said to the judge. Her
father's lawyer stood and paced the floor. He stopped in front of the jury
box and looked at them.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is obvious that Miss Jane Williams
is not a reliable source. How do we know that this really happened to her?
How do we know that Miss Williams didn't bend the truth, or set this whole
thing up? My client, Mr. Williams, tells me that his daughter has a history
of self-mutilation and violence towards others, especially him and her peers,
as told by her permanent record. Look at my client's face. Scratch marks
across his face, and a bullet nearly went into his head. He obviously is
only seeking the love and affection of his daughter, who has alienated him
for over six years as a result of her mother's death," he said. He then
turned to Jane, who was looking at him in disbelief.

"Is it not true, Miss Williams, that you are a self-mutilator?," the defender
asked.

"It depends what you mean by self-mutilator," Jane said, narrowing her eyes
at him.

"Do you cut your wrists, Miss Williams?"

"Yes, I have had problems with that as a result of depression, due to my
father's treatment of me."

"Isn't it also true, Miss Williams, that you have gotten into fights with
your peers on several occasions, talked back to teachers and have had many
detentions as well as a suspension?"

"Yes, and I believe that those people deserved it."

"Did you scratch your father, Miss Williams?"

"As a means of self-defense, I did."

"And did you also attempt to kill your father with a gun, Miss Williams?"

"Yes, and I wish that I had killed him."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury! Can't you see that she has remorse? She
does not feel sorry for what she has done? Miss Williams is obviously callous
and emotionally unstable," he said. He turned back to Jane. She was furious.

"You're just a sad, mixed up child, Miss Williams."

"The only sad, mixed up child here is you."

"Miss Williams..."

"I know who I am, you can stop wearing my name out."

"You see, jurors? Her temper is short. She's unstable and liable to blow
up."

"You're damn right I'm liable to blow up! I've put up with my father's bullshit
for six goddamned years! I've put up with him beating the crap out of me,
calling me a slut and a whore, and fucking me so hard, so often that it
hurt to sit down! So you just think about what I've gone through before you
say that I'm a lying little mixed-up girl!," she stood, pointing at the
defender, her eyes wide with hate and her cheeks red from anger.

"Miss Williams! One more outburst and I will have you removed from my courtroom!,"
the judge bellowed.

"I'm terribly sorry, your Honor," she apologized.

"You may step down, Miss Williams," he said to her. Jane stepped out of
the box and down the steps, her eyes on her father. She could see he was
angry. His jaw was clenched and a vein was throbbing on the unwounded side
of his head. It would be only a matter of time before he snapped.
TO BE CONTINUED...