Page 282 of Satan's Spawn
“We’re gonna get through this.” I reassure Crayton again, hoping like hell I’m right. With a squeeze to his knee, I stand, not drawing attention to the doubt creeping on his face.
I press the mute button again. “Sorry about that, Micah. So, what were you saying?”
A heavy sigh hits me from the other end of the phone. “What I was saying is that it’ll be one hell of a fight to prove he was framed by Alexis. But not impossible. We just need a solid plan of attack.”
“I’ll take the stand.” I blurt out. “I’ll speak on Crayton’s behalf and tell them why he assaulted Felix and why I know he didn’t kill the piece of crap.”
He takes a second to reiterate.
“It’s not a bad idea, especially if I call you to testify before the D.A. does. We can set the pace.” He clears his throat. “But understand, Rebecca. You will have to talk in detail about what happened to you that night on your birthday.”
Speaking too soon has always been a nifty power of mine, right now is no different.
I feel those familiar bugs threatening the surface of my arms. I scratch them away, vigorously, not realizing I’ve dropped the phone until Crayton is picking it up.
He reaches for my scratching hand and presses it against his chest to ground me.
I’m breathing through the anxiety, hearing terms like “victim of sexual violence”, “rape”, and “forced penetration” spiral in my head—still so unfamiliar even though they pertain to me.
The idea of admitting all of this to a bunch of strangers has dread curdling in my stomach. Shit…I wasn’t even the one who told Micah…Crayton did with my consent.
Speaking the words out loud seems unbearable.
But losing Crayton would be even worse.
I pull away from his touch, soothing the burning sensation with gentle strokes of my hand.
“I don’t care.” I admit softly. “Not if it helps Crayton stay out of prison.”
“She’s not fucking testifying.” Crayton grits into the speaker. “I will not have her on that stand. Allowing her to relive that shit for me.”
“You’re not my father, Crayton. And I’m an adult.”
Furious blue eyes shoot at me. “You’re not fucking testifying, Rebecca. End of story.”
“You can tell yourself that all you want…but it’s not up to you, it’s up to Micah.”
The man in question can be heard mumbling something like “fucking awesome” on the other end of the phone. Then he states, “You taking the stand is a double-edged sword…on one hand we can get a positive testimony on Crayton. But, if the D.A. cross examines you, Rebecca, it may put us in a sticky situation when they ask what you know about his violent past.”
“So I’ll lie.”
I’ve been living every day with Crayton’s darkest secrets, so technically I’ve been doing it all along.
Another heavy sigh whooshes through the phone. “Jesus fuck you kids are going to get my license revoked.” In the next breath Micah adds, “If it comes down to a trial, I’d just have to take my time to really coach you.”
“No need…because I’ll be refusing her fucking testimony.”
Another exasperated noise from Micah.
“That’s not how this works, Crayton.”
“Fine. Then I’ll hijack a plane and leave the country.”
I’d imagine Micah is facepalming himself right now.
“You guys really need to stop saying shit like this.”
“I will not have Rebecca on that stand,” Crayton repeats for the umpteenth time—officially adding to my aggravation with him and activating my petty side.
