Tiffany began to panic and claimed that I had provoked her into hitting me, but the judge was having none of it. “She is heavily pregnant and you struck her in a court of law,” he said while looking at her with pure disdain.
Tiffany looked to Harrison for support, but for the first time that day, he refused to look back at her. That was the moment she realized she was being discarded just as easily as I had been.
The judge turned back to me and asked if I felt safe returning to the house we had shared for the last five years. That question broke something deep inside of me because it was the first time anyone with power had cared about my physical safety.
My friends had asked if I needed a place to stay, and my doctor had asked about my stress levels, but this was different. I tried to answer, but the words were caught in my throat for a few agonizing seconds.
I finally shook my head and whispered that I did not feel safe at all. Harrison exploded in anger and claimed that my statement was absurd because I had left the house of my own free will.
I turned to face him and told everyone that I left because he had canceled my credit cards at the local pharmacy. I explained that he had threatened to change the locks while I was at a prenatal appointment and that I was terrified of being homeless.
“I left because Tiffany sent me photos of my own nursery and told me it looked better without me in it,” I added. The room was so quiet you could hear the clock ticking on the wall behind the judge’s head.
“The evidence of those messages is right here in the file,” the judge said while cutting off Tiffany’s attempt to lie. Tiffany sat down as if the strength had been drained from her legs, and Harrison stared at me with a look of pure hatred.
He was not angry because I was lying, but because I had finally found the courage to tell the truth in public. The doors opened again, and Simon Fletcher walked into the room with his tie loosened and a visible bruise on his cheekbone.
