Armand Fifteen: Pleasant Surprise

"One grande caramel macchiato with whipped cream, please."

I heard an all too familiar voice order a coffee behind me as I was cleaning out the tamper on the espresso machine, and I felt a smile spread across my face before I even turned around.

"Grandpa Max! I'll get that right out to you."

"Haha! Hi, Armand! Surprise! I hope you don't mind, your dad told me you got a job at the coffee shop in Keith's Komics."

"I don't mind at all. I'm happy to see you. I don't get off until 3pm, though, so I won't be able to talk for a while. That'll be $4.50."

"That's okay, I have the day off, we can meet after you're done."

"Yeah, sure, I'll text you my address and then you can either stay here or go to the house."

"That sounds great, maybe I'll hang out here for a little bit, read some comic books, then I'll see you at your place."

"Perfect."

I told Grandpa Max where my spare key was so he could get into the house, since Remy was at work too, so no one would be home. He thanked me and went off to a couch with his coffee. The day after Remy gave me the pep talk about getting a job, I applied here, at Keith's Komics, and since I had been a regular customer the whole time I was in college, the manager didn't hesitate to give me a barista position. Desiree had called me, too, saying she had gone to court because of family drama, but that she couldn't discuss it until the case was over. I completely understood and wanted to respect the court system as well as Desiree. With her already being in court, the last thing she probably needed was to jeopardize whatever case she was involved in. Seeing Grandpa Max show up to get a coffee was such a pleasant surprise. Ever since that Thanksgiving when I went to see my family, things had significantly improved in my mind. I now knew that my family really did love me, and would have my back should I ever need anything.

When Grandpa Max told me that he got information about me from my dad, I had no problem with it because I adored the fact that both of them were able to keep in touch with each other so well despite being a movie star, and a famous magician. Some would think people of that caliber never saw their families, but it was not true for my family. I wondered what Grandpa Max was doing in Louisiana, but I shrugged it off because whatever the reason, he had made a point to make time for me, and I really appreciated that. Time went by pretty fast, and before I knew it, I was done with my shift. I looked around the comic book store to see if Grandpa Max was still here, and from what I could tell, he wasn't, but I thought I would text him anyway in case I missed him. He told me he was at my house, so I headed back in that direction.

When I got back to my house, I saw a blue car in the driveway I didn't recognize, but I guessed that it was probably Grandpa Max's rental car. I was right because when I opened the front door, I heard the television going, and then I saw Grandpa Max come to the foyer from the living room to give me a hug. I hadn't seen him since the holidays, and hugging him made me feel loved and warm inside.

"You have a great house, Armand."

"Thank you. I really like it. What are you doing in town?"

"Why, seeing you of course."

I laughed, and so did Grandpa Max, as he made his joke. We both knew something had brought him to Louisiana other than me. Suddenly I felt someone massage my shoulders, and then another familiar voice whispered near me.

"Hi, Armand."

"Grandma Soleil!"

I think I knew in my head that Grandma Soleil would most likely also be in town, since her and my grandfather had been inseparable ever since the beginning of time, so long as their schedules matched up, of course.

"I'm in town for my new movie, and tomorrow night is the New Orleans premiere, so your grandmother and I thought we'd come visit you too. I also, have tickets for you and your roommate if you'd like to come."

"Wow really? I'd love that! Thank you!"

"No problem, and you're welcome."

I invited my grandparents further into my house, and we sat down in the living room. My favorite part of my family had always been my grandparents. I remember the times I spent with them being filled with smiles, jokes, and laughter. It wasn't like they never fought, but when they had disagreements, they always seemed to still be able to communicate through their emotions. It was a skill I hadn't yet mastered, but hoped to do one day. When I witnessed my mom and dad fight, it was always large explosions of emotions with zero communication. I was glad that I had seen two different couples have different kinds of fights because it gave me hope that maybe I wouldn't have to turn into my parents if I ever found a girl to call my own. Initially, when I had come to college, I felt like I was completely against marriage, and couplehood, if that was even a word... but after knowing Remy and Desiree for a while, and seeing that there were good people in the world, I was being a little more open to the idea of a potential relationship. I had stopped sleeping around for the most part, as I no longer went to large parties anymore like I did in college. I would always have fond memories of parties because I did have fun almost every time, but maybe I had grown out of that type of party.

I was excited to go to this premiere, which was a kind of party in itself, and I smiled again at the thought. Grandma Soleil had taken a seat on the couch next to Grandpa Max, just as I had expected her to do. They were still so in love, and I admired them so much for that.

"So, Armand, how's your artwork going? Or are you leaning more towards singing?"

I guessed by Grandpa Max's questions that he was asking about where I was going career wise, since he probably knew I wasn't planning on being a barista for the rest of my life. I knew that he wasn't judging me though, because he was the least judgmental person I knew.

"I tried selling some of my artwork to local coffee shops, and some of them offered to put it on display, but it hasn't really paid out as much as I'd hoped. It's a little discouraging, honestly, like is my art just not good enough for public view? I really do want someday to have my pieces in an art gallery, but that just seems so far out of my reach right now. As far as singing, I haven't really pursued that, but maybe I should make a demo tape or something. I haven't really thought about it, either. I've been feeling a little stuck I think, and a little jealous of Remy because he always knew what he wanted to do with his life. I've always just been lost somewhat."

"Armand, you know that you are the way you are because of things that have happened to you, and not because there's anything wrong with you, right? The fact that you're so open and honest about how you feel is a quality that not a lot of people have. You are someone to be admired as well, okay?"

"Yeah, I know I am not the problem, but sometimes I still feel like I'm living with the ghost of my mom when I get discouraged. I keep telling myself art is subjective, and people are harsh critics, but I would be lying if I said Mom's voice doesn't still haunt me. I know I'm worth it now, but I don't feel like I'm to the point where I have enough confidence to feel like anyone would admire me."

"Well, then I'll just keep telling you that, until you believe it."

It wasn't hard for me to understand why Grandma Soleil loved Grandpa Max so much, he was so loving to everyone that he cared about. Even me, who he only saw every now and then. The simple fact that I was his grandson meant that I was privy to his unconditional love as well, which brought tears to my eyes. Grandpa Max came over to where I was sitting and put his hand on my back to comfort me.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Grandpa Max, this is supposed to be a happy occasion."

"No, don't apologize for crying. Never. You always let your emotions out when they come, okay?"

I whimpered a muffled 'yes,' and Grandpa Max pulled me into a hug. I wished I wasn't so emotional every time someone did something nice for me, but I felt like his words made sense. Most of the reasons I was sad for my dad when I was growing up were because he was never allowed to cry or show that he was sad. Mom always forced him to pretend he was happy, which never got him anywhere but deeper into his despair. I realized there might have been another layer to my dad's unhappiness because I knew without a doubt that Grandpa Max didn't raise my dad to fake his emotions, so my dad must have been even worse off since he'd known the freedom of doing that his whole life, but then my mom goes and takes it away from him. I clenched my fist and felt like screaming, which made me cry even harder.

"Shh, Armand, it's okay. Everything's okay."

"I'm sorry, I just thought of Dad and how miserable he was, and how I couldn't do anything for him. I hate Mom so much, for taking Dad's freedom away, and I wish she would just get the fuck out of my head! It feels like she's taking my freedom away from beyond the grave! I can't just deal with this art shit like a normal human, I have to fucking keep self-doubting my own skills, and it's all because of her! AAAAHHH!"

Despite my explosion, Grandpa Max and Grandma Soleil never once told me to shut up or calm down, and eventually I calmed down on my own and managed to look up at Grandpa Max who hadn't flinched at all despite me being so loud near his face. He smiled at me, and I sat up.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, thank you for letting me vent. I think I'm going to go wash my face now. What do you and Grandma have planned for the rest of the day?"

"Nothing. I planned to just hang out with you today. I do have an idea though, so when you are done washing your face, put on some athletic clothes, and come back down here, okay?"

I nodded at Grandpa Max, grateful that he was here for me. As I headed upstairs, I had to smile because I saw Grandpa Max pull Grandma Soleil onto his lap and snuggle her. I loved their relationship so much. I washed my face, really needing the splash of cold water on my skin after that outburst I'd had. I realized that my sorrowful rage hadn't been caused by frustration with my artwork, but by the revelation of my dad having the freedom he grew up with so cruelly ripped away from him by my mother. My extreme hatred for my mother was the driving force for me knowing that I would never, ever, treat anyone the way she treated my dad. That might be the one good thing she did for me.

Once I was done cleaning up, I put on some athletic clothes, like Grandpa Max had requested, and went downstairs. When I got to the half level in between my bedroom floor and the living room, I noticed something new in my house. There was a training dummy by the railing, and two concrete blocks standing on edge. Grandpa Max came over, and smiled at me.

"Did you bring these for me?"

"Yes, you bet I did. My dad, your great-grandpa Alex, gave me these when he taught me martial arts, and I was going to pass them down to you. Your dad was more interested in magic, so I never did much of this with him. I noticed you get emotional often, so I thought you might benefit from a training dummy you can punch the shit out of when you're mad."

"Wow, thank you so much!"

"I'll teach you some stuff, of course, some tonight, and maybe a little tomorrow morning if you'd like. Tomorrow afternoon I was going to go and spend some time with your grandma before my movie premiere."

"I'd love that, thank you, Grandpa Max." 

"Okay, lesson starts now."

---

Sitting in court was so nerve-wracking. My brother's testimony had gone flawlessly, but my mother's on the other hand, was a little shaky. The lawyers were going to give their closing arguments today, and the jury would hopefully get a verdict out. I didn't think my dad would look innocent in the eyes of any decent human, but I also knew that shit happens sometimes, no matter how much evidence is presented. I wished my dad would get put in jail at least for a few years, so I could get away from his ridiculous tyrannical ways. I knew if he wasn't constantly hovering over me, it would give me time to gather the courage to get my shit together like a proper adult. Finally, the judge was ready.

"Mr. Haskle and Ms. Cazelton, you will each be allowed to give your closing arguments. Ms. Cazelton, you can have the floor first."

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard my client's case of how she was brutally assaulted by her own father, just for wanting to leave the house. She is a legal adult, and the law has no bearing on her freedom to go wherever she wants. Her father had no right to stop her in the first place, and absolutely no right to stop her in the manner that he did. Whether or not you believe her father assaulted her that night, please just take into consideration that my client deserves the freedom to live her life without her father's overbearing hand controlling her every move. Thank you."

"Thank you, Ms. Cazelton. Mr. Haskle, you may take the floor now."

"Ladies and gentlemen, my client is a well-respected Catholic priest who has been serving this community for ten years at the town church. Before that he was the headmaster of the Catholic school that many of your friends and neighbors may have sent their children to. The testimonies you have heard may lead you to believe that my client was unreasonable in the way he raised his family, but sometimes not everything is black and white, or understood the same way among everyone. Please don't punish my client for trying to raise his family the way that he thought he should. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Haskle. Jury will deliberate, and then court will resume."

My hands were clammy after the judge let everyone take a break while the jury discussed the case. I hoped once again that they would see the clear path to the correct answer. I felt like my case was one of those ones where it was obvious who was the perpetrator and who was the victim. I wished Armand was here, and I pictured his gorgeous blue eyes, the curve of his nose, and his pouty bottom lip, to try to get me through the next however long I had to be here today. Part of me hated that I was having feelings for Armand because I didn't think he saw me in that way at all, but part of me was a little hopeful that maybe he would realize something he hadn't since we hadn't seen each other in person for so long. We had been talking on the phone and texting each other ever since I finally broke the ice a week ago and returned his many messages. I thought back to when he and I first met, and how much of an absolute gentleman he was. Boys don't act like that unless they at least think the girl is attractive somewhat, right? Man, I am really insecure about my own looks. I shuddered when my thoughts led me to Reese again and how awful she had made me feel that day she poured coffee on my homework after pushing me. My mother... I couldn't help but wonder if she really murdered Reese from afar? My parents are both so messed up, my dad with his physical and emotional abusiveness, and my mother potentially being a murderer. Wow, I am thinking crazy. Knock it off, Desiree. Thankfully, just then, the judge came back.

"The jury has reached a verdict."

"On the count of aggravated assault, we the jury, find the defendant, guilty. On the count of reckless endangerment, we find the defendant, guilty. On the count of child abuse, we find the defendant, guilty. On the count of spousal abuse, we find the defendant, not guilty."

"Will the defendant please rise. Father Dale Butchet, you have been found guilty on three out of the four charges against you. I hereby sentence you to twenty-five years in prison, with no chance for parole. I seriously hope that you take that time to think about the job you chose and why it does not line up with your behavior. This case is closed. Bailiff, please escort Father Butchet to his new residence."

I was smiling so much as my father got taken away by the bailiff. He was no doubt unhappy about the verdict, judging by the scowl on his face, but I was so very happy. My prison warden had himself been thrown into prison, and justice had been served.

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Armand Fourteen: Newfound Strength

Guest Starring: Two Police Officers made by MrsOogieBoogie/Freckled-Pixels

---

"9-1-1. What's your emergency?"

"My dad is beating my sister on the porch."

"Okay, can your dad see you? Are you in any danger?"

"No, I don't think so, but I'm trying to be quiet, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, don't apologize, tell me some more details. Where are you?"

"I'm at my bedroom window, it overlooks the porch. Oh my God.. He's pushing her against one of the columns, I'm scared.. please send help."

"What's your address?"

"162 Savannah Lane.. oh God, I'm afraid he's going to kill her!"

"Help is on the way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END OF RECORDING ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hushed silence filled the courtroom after the damning 9-1-1 tape was played for everyone to hear. The mystery witness the police were looking for was Samuel Butchet, Dale's fifteen year old son.

"The court calls Samuel Butchet to the stand."

I walked up to the witness stand nervous, yet excited to finally get some freedom from the hell I had been raised in. I probably looked weak in the eyes of my family, since I hadn't caused any trouble for Dad after the time he punched me and locked me in my room for two days. I don't even remember what I had supposedly done, but that memory stuck with me. I had fooled Tracy and Dad for years, but I knew the truth. The only reason I had "submitted" was that I had a deep desire inside me to survive, which I knew could make me look compliant, but I was willing to take that chance. Dad's punishment had made me afraid I would starve, so he was able to control me upon threat of death. I never believed anything he said, though, because he just sounds crazy to me. I never tried to go against Dad regarding anything of my own, but I did try to intervene a couple of times when I saw Dad attacking Mom. I was always unsuccessful at saving her, though, as I was only eleven at the time, and it was easy for my Dad to fling me across the room with just one small push.

I was glad to see that Desiree had so much support, Mom was there, as well as the two police officers who arrested Dad. There was another woman there whom I didn't know, but I was glad for her presence nevertheless. My nervousness about testifying was countered by my deep desire to finally expose my father's cruelty, and if the law was going to offer a helping hand, I was damn sure not going to refuse it.  Dad and Desiree had always had screaming matches after which she would be whipped with a belt, but I had never seen Dad go so insane and use the concrete as his accomplice. I didn't know how he could call himself a religious man when he was clearly hellbent on acting like the opposite of a saint. I genuinely felt like Dad was going to kill Desiree had he been given the chance, which is why when the officers came to my group home inquiring if I would testify against my father, I decided to break my silence. I saw Tracy shooting daggers at me with her eyes, but I didn't care. I thought she was crazy, and maybe just as evil as Dad for going along with his antics.

"Mr. Butchet, is that your voice on the 9-1-1 recording?"

"Yes."

"Why did you call 9-1-1 that night?"

"I saw my Dad hit my sister, and I knew it wasn't right. I was afraid she was in danger."

"Why would she be in danger? He's her father too! Could it be you misunderstood a "hit" for a simple raising of the hand to stop someone, a raise that wouldn't make contact with them at all? You weren't there, you were all the way up at your bedroom win----"

"OBJECTION! Badgering the witness! He's only fifteen for Christ's sake!"

"SUSTAINED. Please just ask the witness questions based on fact, Mr. Haskle, and not his own speculations."

"Yes, your Honor. Mr. Butchet, on the tape you state you were afraid. Why?"

"Because my father scares me. He's hit me before when he felt I was doing something he didn't like. I knew he wouldn't like that I was calling the police."

"So why speak up now? Why not go to the police the first time he allegedly beat you?"

"I wanted my father to stop hitting Desiree. Previous times, I just tried to stop my dad, but he always got the upper hand. I was scared for Desiree, and I wanted a sure solution. I know 9-1-1 helps people with emergencies. This was an emergency."

"So you're just a scared little kid. Should we really be taking this child's words seriou-?"

"OBJECTION!!"

"SUSTAINED. Mr. Haskle, if you have no more real questions for this witness, please just spare me my time and SIT down."

"Yes, Your Honor. No further questions."

"Your witness, Ms. Cazelton."

"Mr. Butchet, did you feel in your heart that calling 9-1-1 was in the best interest of your sister, or your entire family?"

"My entire family."

"Why is that?"

"My dad abuses all of us physically. He has for years."

"OBJECTION! Witness speculation!"

"OVERRULED. It is true that Ms. Cazleton needs evidence to show whether abuse has indeed been going on for years aside from this incident, but she is in process of discussing this with the witness, Counselor."

"Why would he abuse you? What was his trigger, from your perspective, Mr. Butchet."

"Dad had a lot of rules. If we stepped outside of any of those rules, a physical punishment followed. He would beat us with his belt."

"Do you know what may have triggered your father that night you called 9-1-1?"

"My sister looked like she was leaving the house in the middle of the night. My dad has a strict curfew for all of us, and she wasn't obeying it."

"What made you aware of the situation?"

"The porch is right under my bedroom window, and I heard my dad yelling. I went to my window to see what he was yelling about."

"How many times did you see your father hit Desiree?"

"OBJECTION! Counselor is implying my client hit his daughter! Putting words in the witness' mouth!"

"SUSTAINED. Ms. Cazelton, reword your question for the court."

"Sorry, your Honor. Mr. Butchet, what did you witness from your bedroom window?"

"I saw my dad pushing Desiree into one of the columns on our house, and she hit her head.."

"...Then I saw him kick her in the stomach with his knee.."

"...Then I saw Dad throw her to the ground, put his knee on her back, pull her hair, and wrench her arm behind her back. The last thing I saw was him... I saw him..."

"Please try to continue, Mr. Butchet."

"...I saw him kick her in the face..."

I couldn't hold my composure anymore as I felt the pain of everything I was describing. It felt like I was right back there on that awful night doing the best I could to try to save Desiree from afar. I broke down into tears, hugging myself to try to combat the chill that had started coursing through my chest as I was describing the incident outside my window. My hands were clenched in fists because I also felt extreme rage towards my father for what he had done to our family all these years. I looked over at him, wanting to punch the smug look off his stupid face. He wasn't even sitting in his chair like he gave a fuck what was going on with his own children. Me, the witness, and Desiree, the plaintiff.

Dad caught me looking at him and glared, trying to intimidate me, no doubt, but I wasn't going to be kept under his thumb any longer. His eyes looked so cold and calculating under his angry eyebrows. I'd always wondered what made my dad tick. Did he get some odd pleasure out of seeing his family suffer in so many ways?

"That's enough for now, court will take a ten minute recess. Thank you, Mr. Butchet. You may step down."

---

I watched as my brother Samuel broke down on the witness stand when he described seeing Dad kick me in the face, and thought, 'Yes, that is the proper reaction to the events of that night,' not whatever Dad was thinking. I saw him glaring at Samuel and I couldn't understand what was wrong with him. I've always gone to church, upon Dad's request of course, but his sermons never matched the man I saw at our house. At church he was always inspiring and helpful, and it made me wonder if he just never wanted our family. Would he have been happier single? He sure doesn't treat Mom like he loves her. He just uses her for her housekeeping skills, skills that he wanted to brainwash me into doing too, for a man.

*BZZ-BZZ.*

My phone vibrated, and I took the recess to look at who had sent me a message. Once again, Armand's name flashed across the screen. My heart fluttered, and I swear it skipped a beat. Samuel's testimony had inspired me. He was so brave to go in public and tell everyone what a monster our father was, despite his age, and the many death glares he no doubt endured. I pushed all my insecurities I had the other day about my feelings for Armand out of my mind. I was good enough to have him as a friend. If my little brother thought I was worth fighting for, I believed it. I opened the message to read it. 

I had a mix of emotions when I saw the past messages that I had ignored. Part of me laughed when Armand thought he was acting like a clingy stalker because that wasn't what I thought of him at all. Part of me was sad that I didn't have the balls to answer him. Part of me got teary eyed when he said he missed me. It really did sound like he was genuinely worried about me after I had left the park so abruptly that day after we had talked about me moving out. Maybe he thought I had moved out and away from him as well. Suddenly I got a pang of guilt for making him feel that way. I had been so sucked into my family drama that I hadn't even thought about how all of this would make him feel. He hadn't seen me for over a month, and the way I had left him was worrisome. Part of the time I was in my coma, so I didn't feel bad about that one since that was out of my control. The stalker message was the one I got when I was in the clinic and couldn't respond. Couldn't, or didn't want to? No, of course I wanted to, he makes my heart feel warm. God, I'm an ass. The message about him hoping he wasn't bothering me was the one I had just received. Court recess was going to be over soon, and I wanted to let him know I was ok, so I sent him a simple message back.

---

*BEEP-BEEP.*

I pulled out my phone after it beeped in my pocket, and saw a familiar name flash across my screen. Holy shit! Desiree finally replied to me! I felt a ridiculous smile come across my face when all my fears of possibly being a clingy asshole disappeared. 

Desiree didn't hate me like I had been working myself up to believe. Take that, Mom. I had healed for the most part regarding my crazy mother and how she made me feel now that I had Ephemera to teach me that almost all of the thoughts Mom had told me were not true, but the thoughts had been resurfacing during the time I had momentarily lost touch with Desiree. When I opened Desiree's message, I have to admit I had more questions than answers, but at least she was talking to me again.

I wondered what could possibly have happened to Desiree that she needed to be in court, but I hoped it wasn't anything too terrible. I was happy that she had posted a sentence with the word later, meaning she wanted to keep in touch. One of my other fears was that I would turn possessive like my mom had done to my dad. My stalker message was an attempt to poke fun at myself for that thought. I hated my mom and I knew that I would never treat anyone like my mom treated my dad, but I didn't know how much of that awful behavior was hereditary, or subconscious.

Remy walked past me, laughing, no doubt because he saw that I had a Joker like smile plastered across my face while staring at my phone.

"So... how's Desiree?"

"Shut up, Remy... but she's fine? I think? She's in court, but she said she'd tell me what was up later."

"Court? I hope it's nothing too serious."

"Yeah, me too, but I suppose at the rate people seem to be suing each other over all kinds of dumb shit these days, it's possible it's minor. She didn't sound especially pained or anything."

"That's true. People are fucking ridiculous."

---

"The court calls Marilyn Butchet to the witness stand."

I walked towards the witness stand after the court came back from recess. The night the social worker came to the hospital, I had willingly answered her questions about Dale's past abuse of me and my children. It hadn't sunk in that night that I had any fault in the situation because I genuinely felt like I had been keeping my children safe. This past month, however, had given me a lot of time to think. Samuel and Tracy were in a group home, Dale had been remanded to prison after his bail had been denied, and Desiree was living at the physical therapy rehabilitation clinic. I realized I was just as guilty as Dale was for what had happened to my family. I couldn't bring myself to look at Desiree as I walked past her, afraid to see what she might be feeling, especially when it came to me. I had visited her every night she was in her coma, and I was sure she knew I loved her, but I was ashamed of how cowardly I had been. I hoped that Desiree knowing I was just about to go testify against her father would make her see how much I wanted to make amends with her.

I was an adult, yet I had continued to let Dale treat me like a child for most of our marriage. I let him boss me around and put me in my place. I don't know why I did that, I suppose it had just become routine ever since that night Dale had his first big blowup. It was when Tracy was six, she had probably just been doing something children do, but Dale brought her to her room and beat her with his belt. I didn't know it had been so serious until Tracy came into the kitchen crying. I went to find Dale and yelled at him about hitting Tracy, but that's when he threw me against the door frame of his office. Samuel came in and tried to stop Dale from hitting me again, but Dale shoved him out of the way, and he fell over Dale's desk. Dale then proceeded to hold my arm on the door frame, and slammed the door on my arm, breaking it. Afterwards, Dale took me to the hospital to get my arm put into a cast. He acted like an angel towards all the hospital staff, pretending like he was the doting husband trying to take care of his wife. His personality seemed to always be switching back and forth like that.

When he was the headmaster of the Catholic high school, he often came home from work venting about the discipline he had to dole out on unruly children, and I suddenly got a pang of uneasiness in my stomach. Had he abused other people's children, using the guise of headmaster to get away with it? I took a deep breath, trying to ready myself for my testimony. I sat on the witness stand chair and looked out at the courtroom, my eyes wandering over to Dale, who had changed from looking smug during Samuel's testimony, to looking at the table in front of him. I couldn't tell if he was just bored with the whole thing since he probably thought he was right, or if some part of him did feel shame and guilt for beating Desiree. Yeah right, Marilyn, he probably feels shame and guilt, not for beating Desiree, but for getting caught.

"Mr. Haskle, your witness."

"Misssusss Byooo-shayyyy."

Dale's lawyer dragged out my name, trying to throw me off before he even asked me any questions. I tried to remain strong with what newfound strength I had discovered from being apart from Dale for a month.

"Did you see my client hit your daughter on the night in question?"

"No."

"What are you even here testifying about then?"

"OBJECTION! Counselor knows the answer to that, he's badgering yet another witness!"

"SUSTAINED. Mrs. Butchet, you do not have to answer that."

"Mrs. Butchet, your son alleges that there is a history of abuse by my client regarding your entire family. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Butchet, is my client, your husband, not a religious man? Could it be that you just misunderstood his level of discipline for abuse?"

"NO. Dale is abusive! He goes overboard. Discipline never has to involve broken bones or bloody wounds!"

"Well, have you ever gone to the hospital? Broken bones can't be fixed with home remedies, now can they?"

"I went once."

"Did you tell anyone at the hospital about the alleged abuse? A nurse? A doctor?"

"No."

"Because my client was not abusing you, correct?"

"N- no."

"Ah-ha!"

"No, that's not what I mea-"

"No further questions, Your Honor."

Dammit, Marilyn, now isn't the time to screw something up like this! Dale's lawyer was good and that was awful for me. The way he had worded his question confused me on how I was supposed to answer it. He wasn't correct, and that's what I was responding to, but then he made it sound like I had said Dale wasn't abusing me. Shit, I hope I didn't just mess this up for Desiree. My heart sank more, once again, when I looked towards Dale only to see a slow, creepy smile spread across his face because he was probably coming to the same revelation I was. If I just screwed up my testimony, then Dale would have won something precious... his freedom.

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Armand Thirteen: Healing Wounds

Guest Starring: Two Police Officers made by MrsOogieBoogie

I held onto the railing of the physical therapy bars while trying to move my legs at a normal pace. My doctor told me I hadn't woken up right away after my surgery to fix my internal bleeding, despite the fact that all my head CTs had come back clear. I had been kept under observation for a week to make sure I didn't develop a brain bleed from my dad kicking me in the head that night. After that, I still hadn't woken up, so they kept me in the hospital to make sure my ribs and wrist were healing, and to make sure my back wounds didn't get infected since some of the cuts were very deep. Finally, a month later, I opened my eyes. My body had physically healed from all its severe bruising, so my doctor sent me to a rehabilitation clinic. Today marked the day when I was supposed to get up and walk around so that I could relearn normal function. Laying in bed for a month had caused my muscles to become weak and even though they weren't completely atrophied, they were definitely tired and unwilling to support my weight without a bar to hang on to.

I can't really walk that well, and even standing seems to be a challenge. I am very glad my physical therapist Dylan is there to catch me when I undoubtedly fall. I wonder what Armand is doing today, and I wish that I could see him. I'm unsure though because as much as I want to see him, I don't want him to see me like this. I know that he's already seen me get bullied, so I'm not really afraid of him thinking I'm weak, since I'm fairly certain he already knows that. I just feel like with my newfound romantic feelings for him, it's making me really care about what he might want, and I don't want him to feel like I'm just a pain in his ass, someone that he has to fix because she's always fucked up. I know this is temporary and that I will regain full mobility since nothing is broken, and it's just a matter of my muscles remembering how to work again, but I still feel like if Armand saw me at this stage in my life, he would think less of me, like I was an inconvenience somehow? I'm having trouble finding the balance between standing up for myself and feeling defeated when I do. So far trying to do that has resulted in me getting beaten up twice.

"Okay, Desiree, that was really good, you walked pretty far for your first time. It'll get easier, I promise. We should do some stretches now, though."

My mother told me she visited everyday while I was in a coma, or so she says, since I didn't actually know what was happening around me. I believe her though, since I know that she loves me. She told me that Tracy and Samuel have been taken out of her custody because of what happened to me, and I have been feeling depressed about it. I caused my mom to endure the heartache of her children being taken away from her, all because I chose to disobey my dad. She keeps telling me that it's not my fault and that she's not mad at me, but I don't know that I believe her. After being punished so often, sometimes I wonder if it's even worth not submitting to dad like my whole family does.

Mom has been going through a custody hearing, where the law will determine whether she gets to keep raising Tracy and Samuel or if they'll permanently be placed in the foster care system. Dad has been going through a criminal hearing because the police said they had evidence that he beat me up so much I could have died. I don't know what will happen with that, but I know my family is permanently broken, and I feel completely responsible. I think I am at rock bottom today, and it's not a good place to be.

*Beep beep*

My phone made a notification sound just as I got done with my stretches, and I made my way over to one of the walls for support. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that the text was from Armand. A wave of panic came over me because of all the insecurities I had just been thinking about. I wanted to respond to him, but my fingers seemed to have forgotten how to work. Just at that moment, Dylan came over to take me back to my room. Responding to Armand was going to have to wait, and part of me was relieved.

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