Page 29 of Truck Hard

A familiar presence settles behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Liam, moving closer, offering silent support. His presence radiates against my back, grounding me in the moment.

I’m not alone anymore.

“Docket number 47293.” The clerk announces. “Fisher versus Fisher, petition for divorce and custody.”

Judge Matthews looks down at her papers, then at me. “Mrs. Fisher, you’re seeking dissolution of marriage on grounds of physical abuse and endangerment, is that correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” My lawyer answers for me just like we discussed.

“And you’re requesting full custody of your minor child, Cameron Fisher?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

She turns to Charlie. “Mr. Fisher, you’re contesting both the divorce and custody arrangement?”

Charlie’s lawyer—some high-priced shark from Columbus—stands. “We are, Your Honor. My client categorically denies all allegations of abuse. Furthermore, we have evidence suggesting Mrs. Fisher’s infidelity prior to—”

“Objection!” James is on his feet. “Mrs. Fisher’s alleged conduct before marriage has no bearing on the current proceedings.”

“Overruled.” Judge Matthews peers at both lawyers. “But tread carefully, counselor. I won’t have my courtroom turned into a circus.”

The next hour passes in a blur of legal terms and procedural motions. James presents evidence—hospital records, police reports, photographs that make me sick to look at. Charlie’s lawyer argues technicalities, and tries to paint me as unstable, unreliable.

And then it’s my turn to testify.

The walk to the witness stand feels like miles. Each step takes me closer to having to relive every moment I’ve tried so hard to forget. But Cam’s presence gives me strength. Liam’s quiet support steadies me.

I can do this. I have to do this.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Hannah Marie Fisher.”

“And how long have you been married to the defendant?”

“Thirteen years.”

“Can you tell the court about the first time Mr. Fisher became violent?”

The memories rise like bile in my throat. “It was... three months after Cameron was born. I came home late from grocery shopping. He accused me of seeing someone else. When I tried to explain, he...” My voice catches. “He hit me. Bruised my cheek.”

“And did you report this incident?”

“No.” Shame burns in my cheeks. “He said he was sorry. Said it would never happen again. I believed him.”

“But it did happen again?”

“Yes.” The word comes out barely above a whisper. “Many times.”

“Can you describe the incident that led to being taken into protective custody five months ago?”

Charlie shifts in his chair, drawing my attention. His face is a mask of cold fury, promising retribution in his eyes. But something else flickers there too—fear. He knows what I’m about to say.

Good. Let him be afraid for once.

“I... I had been hiding money.” The words tumble out, gaining strength as I speak. “A little at a time, from the grocery budget. I knew we had to get out, but Charlie controlled all the accounts. When he found out...”

The courtroom fades away as the memory takes hold. The rage in Charlie’s eyes. The first blow catching me off guard. The broken ribs. The cuts on my body that left scars. The way he choked me until I passed out. Cam screaming, trying to stop him. Blood on the living room floor.

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