Chapter 16 - THE CASE AGAINST HIM
The prosecutor met with me two months later.
By then, the bruises had faded.
My shoulder had healed.
My lip had healed.
The invisible parts took longer.
The charges included assault and violations connected to the protective order.
Other conduct would be considered as part of the broader evidence.
I asked what would happen.
The prosecutor did not promise a dramatic courtroom ending.
Real life rarely offers one.
There could be a plea.
There could be trial.
There could be delays.
There could be consequences that felt smaller than what I had survived.
“I need you prepared for that.”
I nodded.
“I am.”
I wasn’t.
But I understood.
Then she asked whether I wanted to submit a statement about the impact.
I went home and stared at a blank page for three nights.
At first, I wrote about pain.
Then fear.
Then money.
Then sleep.
None of it felt complete.
Finally, I wrote one sentence.
He made me believe I needed permission to trust my own fear.
Everything else came after that.
I wrote about checking locks at midnight.
I wrote about panicking when someone walked too loudly behind me in a store.
I wrote about how my son’s crying sometimes returned me instantly to the bathroom floor.
I wrote about being ashamed of things done to me.
I wrote about the exhaustion of explaining evidence to people who believed a charming man could not be violent.
Then I wrote about recovery.
The first night I slept without dreaming about the hallway.
The first time I drove alone without checking the mirror every thirty seconds.
The first time I heard my son cry and felt only concern instead of terror.
When I finished, the statement was six pages long.
My sister read it.
Then she handed it back without changing a word.
“Keep that.”
“Why?”
“Because someday you’re going to forget how hard this part was.”
I looked at her.
“I hope so.”
She shook her head.
“Forget the fear if you can.”
May you like
Then she pointed to the final paragraph.
“Don’t forget the woman who walked through it.”
