***Big thanks to Emoroza98, Do'B, dream-big-101, hannah, thebeastinsideusall, and Ginevra Annabeth Herondale for reviewing that last couple of chapters! As always, I apologize in advance for the inevitable typos and mistakes. Enjoy the chapter –skd***
His eyes don't leave mine and I cannot stop staring at him. He looks like shit; his hair is greasy and he looks pale. His green eyes, however, haven't changed a bit. They are still cold and calculating and hold a predatory look. His cruel grin widens as he realizes that I haven't stopped staring at him.
Fear builds are he continues to stare at me and my heart rate increases. Katerina shifts in my arms and I pull my eyes away from Adrian to look at my daughter. Sensing my stress, Katya wakes and stares up at me with sleepy eyes. She wraps her arms around my neck and hides her face in my groove between my shoulder and my neck.
"Momma, me hungy," she murmurs against my neck. I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her adorable, toddler scent.
"Do you want to Goldfish?" I ask her. She leans back slightly so I can see her face and she nods. I reach into my bag and pull out the Ziploc baggie of Goldfish crackers. Katerina pulls her thumb out of her mouth so that she can eat the crackers.
"Rosemarie." I turn around and see my father sitting behind us. "Give me Katya."
"Granpah! Momma, I want granpah!" Katerina sees Abe and bounces excitedly in my lap.
"Give mommy a kiss, and then you can go to Grandpa," I tell her. She grins and puckers her lips, placing a wet kiss on my lips. I giggle and pass her back to Abe, giving him her bag as well.
I turn around and face forward. I can still feel Adrian's eyes on me and I have the urge to look back over at him. I feel Dimitri's hand on my knee, squeezing reassuringly. I still flinch and he removes his hand from my knee.
"All rise."
Dimitri and Christian rose on either side of me and I quickly joined them. An older woman enters the courtroom, and takes her place behind the raised desk. She sits and everyone in the courtroom follows.
The jury was already seated and my gaze travelled over them. Six men and six women, all of them white. The judge banged her gavel and nodded at Dimitri. He stood, and faced the jury.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and thank you for being here today. My name is Dimitri Belikov, and I'll be representing Miss Rosemarie Hathaway." He paused for a brief moment, glancing down at the papers in front of him.
"You're here today to hear evidence in the trial of Mr. Adrian Ivashkov, who stands accused of multiple counts of first-degree sexual assault against my client. Mr. Ivashkov was arrested from the house the Miss Hathaway was found in after being missing for three years. The defense wants you to feel sorry for him, because the defense wants you to believe that his crime is justified.
"It's my job to uphold the law. And in this courtroom, I'm going to show you that Mr. Ivashkov broke the law. He broke a very clear law that's written in black and write. A law that everyone knows and understands.
"Mr. Ivashkov sexually assaulted a young woman. It doesn't matter why he assaulted her, or how sad his life has been. It matters that he assaulted her. As members of the jury, it's your job to make sure he pays for that crime. It's your job to be blind because that's the only way we can be sure that justice will be served. I'm going to ask you to serve justice to Mr. Ivashkov at the end of this trial, and I know that you're going to see that it gets done. Because I'm going to prove that Mr. Ivashkov broke the law, and at the end of the day that's all that matters.
"Thank you." Dimitri finished before sitting once more in the chair beside me. I could feel Adrian's cold eyes burning into me, but refused to look at him, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared again.
I could hear rustling of papers across the courtroom. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my name is Jesse Zeklos and it is my privilege to represent Mr. Adrian Ivashkov in this case before you today. You have heard the prosecutor explain what he hopes will be proven, but the prosecutor did not tell you all the facts. The prosecutor has explained that my client was arrested from the house that Miss Hathaway was found in, but that does not identify him as the one who kidnapped Miss Hathaway. Nor does it identify him as the one who sexually assaulted Miss Hathaway. I ask you to keep an open mind and listen to all of the evidence, and return a verdict of "not guilty".
"Thank you." More papers rustled and a chair scraped against the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Christian's disgusted look at the defense's plea of a "not guilty" verdict.
"I call Miss Rosemarie Hathaway to the stand please." The voice carries in the silent courtroom, and I stand.
A man with platinum blond hair and blue eyes stands in front of me and I assume that this is Adrian's lawyer, Mr. Zeklos.
"Miss Hathaway, please place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand," he tells me. I comply and raise my hand.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asks me. I nod and he chastises me. "Verbal answers only, Miss Hathaway."
"I do," I say meekly.
"Now, Miss Hathaway," he starts. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"How old were you when Mr. Ivashkov allegedly sexually assaulted you?"
"Eighteen," I answered, my voice still soft.
"Where did you first meet Mr. Ivashkov?"
"My father's club," I replied.
"When you were eighteen?" Mr. Zeklos's eyebrows shot up.
"Yes, sir," I say.
"Pray tell, what were you doing in a bar when you were not of legal age?"
"I was hanging out with a friend."
"Did you consume any alcoholic beverages?" He questions, turning slightly.
"Yes, sir."
"Were you intoxicated when you left the club?"
"I believe so," I answer. His eyebrows go up again.
"You 'believe so'? Were you not aware that you were intoxicated?"
"No, sir. I do not recall leaving the club. I had believed that he had drugged me," I answered, my voice quiet.
"Where were you when you awoke?" he questions.
"I was in a tiny room with no windows. My feet and wrists were bound to the wooden posts of a bed and I was naked," I answer, my voice more confident than I felt. Glancing around briefly, I could see disgusted looks on the jurors' faces. Mr. Zeklos faltered for a moment before continuing.
"What happened next?"
"He entered the room and he took off his clothes and raped me," I stutter, trying to quell the swelling sob.
"Who is 'he', Miss Hathaway?"
"Ad-rian I-ivash-kov." I stumble over his name. Discreetly, I try to brush some of the fallen tears away.
"Who were you holding when you first walked in this courtroom?" he changes tactics.
"My daughter," I answer.
"Where is she now?" Mr. Zeklos persists.
"With my father," I say, gesturing towards where Abe sat with Katya in his arms.
"Bring her up here, please," Mr. Zeklos requests, though his voice is not nice.
Abe stands, as does Dimitri. He passes my daughter over to Dimitri, who carries her across the courtroom to me. Katya continues to suck her thumb and wraps her free arm around my neck. Mr. Zeklos stares at Katerina for a while before.
"Who is the father?"
"Mr. Ivashkov is her biological father, though I do not consider him a father in any other sense," I say, trying to keep my tone even.
"How old is your daughter, Miss Hathaway?"
"Twenty two months old."
"When was she born?"
"August 17, 2012," I say.
"How do you know that this was her birth date?"
"It is on her birth certificate," I say.
"Who delivered your daughter?"
"A midwife did," I answered, remember the nurse who helped me through the labor and delivery of the most precious thing in my life.
"That is all, Your Honor," the lawyer says before taking his seat beside Adrian. I go to rise and Dimitri subtly shakes his head at me.
"Mr. Belikov, would you like to cross-exam?" The judge asks and Dimitri stands.
"Yes, Your Honor." He crosses the room and stands directly in front of me. "Miss Hathaway, I just need to ask you a few questions."
"Do I need to swear on the Bible again?" I ask timidly. Dimitri chuckles.
"No, Miss Hathaway, you do not." Dimitri paces in front of me. "How long were you in Mr. Ivashkov's company?"
"Three years, give or take a few days."
"How do you know this?"
"It is what I was told when I was in the hospital. I have seen the article about my disappearance. It was reported on April 3, 2011. I came home on March 25, 2014," I answer. The dates are forever seared in my head. I see them every time I close my eyes.
"You were eighteen when you first met Mr. Ivashkov, yes?"
"Yes, I had just turned eighteen two days previously," I answer him.
Dimitri consults his notes and pierces me with his dark brown eyes.
"Miss Hathaway, could you please tell the jury exactly what happened the night you first met Mr. Ivashkov?" Dimitri asks.
I take a deep breath and swallow. "I went to the bar with my friend and we had a few drinks. We were given drinks by Mr. Ivashkov and his company. We joined them at their table and my friend went off with one of his friends. More drinks arrived at the table, and we drank. I blacked out and I don't remember anything else. When I woke up, I was tied to the bed."
"Did Mr. Ivashkov ever beat you?" Dimitri questions. Subconsciously, I rub my wrists where dark scars still marred my skin.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Did he ever beat you to where you had required medical attention?"
"No," I answer. My mind flashed to the couple of times that he nearly did beat me that much.
"Has he beat you severely?"
I nod. "Yes, he has."
"What would constitute him to beat you?" Dimitri paced in front of me.
"If I tried to stop him from raping me again, or if I tried to fight him off," I say, my voice barely for than a whisper. Emotion flared in Dimitri's eyes and he had to pause to get a grip on his emotions before asking the next question.
"Was your daughter the only child of yours who father is Mr. Ivashkov?"
"The only one living, yes," I replied to him. Dimitri understood what my words implied. I saw the sadness etched on his face and I turned my head to the side. The jury all had looks of sympathy on their faces.
"That is all, Miss Hathaway," Dimitri tells me and I climb down from the witness stand. Katerina is still sucking happily on her thumb, content in my arms.
"I call Mr. Adrian Ivashkov to the stand," Dimitri says, scribbling something down on a pad of paper.
"Mr. Ivashkov, place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand," Dimitri orders. It wasn't a request. Adrian raised his right hand.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do," Adrian sneers. Dimitri bristles.
"Mr. Ivashkov, how old were you when you met Miss Hathaway?"
"Twenty one," Adrian answers.
"Did you drug Miss Hathaway in the club?" Dimitri questions.
"Of course not." Adrian had the nerve to look offended by Dimitri's question.
"Why did you tie Miss Hathaway up?"
"Because she wanted it," Adrian mocked him. "Some people like being tied up during sex."
Dimitri stiffened. "If she wanted it, then why are there scars marring her wrist?"
Adrian shrugged carelessly. "Consequences of the lifestyle. It is rough, kinky sex."
I could practically feel the hostility rolling off Dimitri. "Lifestyle?" He spits out that word as if was food that tasted awful.
Adrian gave Dimitri a cocky grin and said, "The BDSM lifestyle, of course. You do know what BDSM stands for right? Bonda-"
"I know what it stands for," Dimitri seethes. "Miss Hathaway was locked away in your house for three years, correct?"
"She wasn't locked away in my house. She could leave anytime she wanted and she damn well knew it," Adrian replied, brushing his over-long hair out of his face with his shackled hands.
"If she could leave anytime she wanted, why do you suppose that she stayed there for three years?"
"Because we were in love," Adrian answers in a 'duh' voice.
"You were in love?" Dimitri is obviously incredulous.
"Yes, I just said that." Adrian replaces his 'duh' voice with one that screams 'no shit, Sherlock".
"And do you have proof that Miss Hathaway was there as of her own free will, and not being held captive?" Dimitri questions him.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Adrian states smugly.
