Oh my love, please don't cry,
I'll wash my bloody hands and we'll start a new life.
I don't know much at all . . .
All I know is that I love you tonight.

My Bloody Valentine
Prologue: Witness To It All

I listened as my name was called and I was escorted to the front of the court room. I looked at my high heeled shoes and felt immediately uncomfortable. I was used to combat boots or skate sneakers. But you couldn't come to court in those, you needed to come dressed nice. My only piece de resistance was my hair, a bright bubble gum pink on one side, my natural dark brown on the other.

I was given the witness' stand and freedom to talk. I looked at Alex where he sat, pale and unmoving, not wanting to meet my eyes. I truly waited his permission to talk about what had happened, after all, he'd asked my silence in the first place. He lifted his head and nodded to me and I answered the first question I'd been asked about a minute ago.

"My name is Andrea Forester, sir."

"Your age, Ms. Forester?"

"Seventeen, sir."

"And how long have you known Mr. Tavares?"

"Three, almost four, years, sir."

"When did his state of life become apparent to you?"

"Not long after he moved to my street, sir."

"Ms. Forester, Mr. Tavares claims that you are his best witness, though not one of his family members will verify his treatment in his home."

I bowed my head and glanced at Alex again, but he was still stoic, remaining within himself; a picture of cool, calm and collected. I felt the heat gather in my face and I had to look back at my shoes. Alex motioned to his lawyer, the one questioning me and whispered something to the man. The lawyer looked confused, then irritated but he still sighed and said to me, "Alex says it's all right, he won't kill you, this is the one time you should open your whiny...whiny? Emo mouth."

I felt my jaw drop and Alex's face lit with a small smile, his eyes sparking back up to what I knew. The judge had raised his eyebrows at this but motioned for continuation. The lawyer did so, "Start from the beginning Ms. Forester."

"I was fourteen," I began, "And there was a moving truck across the street, which could only mean one thing: new neighbors. And in my town it was common, so when the couple's son got out of the car, I wasn't impressed much. It was later, when he came to me injured...that's where things really begin . . ."