A week later my bruises were healed along with the three ribs I broke. I remember sitting in a big court room dressed in black dress pants and a light blue button up shirt that I once liked, but now I don't, to my left, David, and to my right, Sheriff Brown along with my lawyer, Taylor, a middle aged women tall, brown haired, she looked like the kind of women where if she wasn't a lawyer she would probably be a model. Apparently also she was very successful, as David told me. Graduated top of her class at Stanford and has one most of the cases she's been involved with. Sitting at the other table was my father dressed in orange, his lawyer, and a few police men that surrounded them. The judge, an older woman with white hair and wrinkles all over her face, sat at the front and called my case.
"The case of Maxine Felix vs. Nick Felix has started," she called out, her strong voice heard throughout the whole courtroom.
A few minutes of talking and discussing it was my time for questions. Taylor called me up to the stand, and I stood up and walked over to sit down beside the judge.
"Please state your name," she asked sweetly folding her arms in front of her chest.
"My name is Maxine Felix and I swear to state the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"Ok you may continue," the judge said.
Taylor unfolded her hands and put them to her side, "Ok Maxine, I'm going to start by asking you a few questions. How old are you currently?"
"I'm 15."
"How old were you when David Felix started abusing you?"
"I was three."
"Where was your mother through all this?"
"She died in a car crash when I was three."
"How did the abuse start out like?"
"The first time he beat me he left me home alone in a cage and went out to get drunk in some bar. He came home, opened the cage and started beating me until I couldn't see straight. He would call me names like worthless and pathetic and beat me harder and harder each time. I remember waking up on the floor of the kitchen or bathroom or living room with broken bones and bruises for ten years straight."
She nodded, "Why didn't anyone notice what was going on?"
"I would hide the pain through makeup, headphones, and my hood. I got straight A's in school so teachers didn't need to worry about me. I never showed any signs of weakness in public. I would just suck it up and deal with it."
"When did you figure out you were done with it."
"The night I called the Domestic abuse number. I had it and couldn't take it anymore."
She nodded again, "Did David Felix ever sexually abuse you?"
I flinched, "No he didn't, he was going to that night, but the domestic abuse people barged in and saved me, but they didn't save my mother."
"What do you mean by that?"
"He raped her when she was young and then she got pregnant with me, he only stayed with her because he thought I was going to be a boy, he only stayed because he only wanted a son!"
She folded her arms back over her chest, "Are you sure of that?"
"Of course I'm sure! He told me that himself. That one moment he wasn't beating me or making my life a living hell he told me what had happened with my mother."
"So do you think you father actually even loved your mother?"
My dad's lawyer spoke, "I object! This has nothing to do with the case at hand!"
"Yes it does," Taylor countered turning to look at him.
"Order, order in the court!" The judge said and Taylor took my hand and guided me back to my seat at the table as the judge continued, "I think the jury has enough information to make a decision. Jury?"
A lady from the jury stood up and finally spoke, "We the jury decide that Nick Felix is guilty of domestic abuse against Maxine Felix and Julia Lovett."
The next hour was a blur. I remember getting a lot of hugs and congratulations from people. People I've met, people I've never even seen. David and his wife, Rose, a short woman with ink black hair, pale skin, and rosy red lips, hugged me and told me congratulations. It was probably the only hug that meant something to me that whole day.
I watched with little emotion as my father was taken away in chains out of the room and into a police car as reporters surrounded him asking him various questions. Reporters came up to me to and asked me questions I wouldn't answer. I was taken to a hotel later that night. I stayed there alone and when I was about ready to slip into bed and fall asleep I knelt by the edge of my bed and prayed. That was probably the first time I've ever actually prayed. My family wasn't religious so we never did any praying at church or at home. I prayed though for a good amount of time, thanking God for my life, for sending my father to jail, and for giving me a second chance. After I was done praying I slipped into bed, turned off the lamp light, and fell asleep with caution. Soon though I relaxed remembering that when I woke up the sun would be shining and my father would no longer be in my life.