A/N: Yaas, back in the swing of things! Thanks for all of the support, it has been super helpful. XOXOXO

*Trigger Warning*

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, nothing is mine.

"Ms. Garcia, could you please describe the night of August 8th, 1995?" My attorney knew I was somewhere else at the moment, and gave me a comforting look. It didn't help.

"I had gotten home from hanging out with friends around five o'clock. Mr. Riggs wasn't home, so I started to pack up all of my belongings from my room..." I started, surprised at how quiet the courtroom was. It was mid-October, but the air was hot and tense. Mr. Finch, my attorney, said that cases like mine were taken very seriously.

"Could you inform the people present why you were packing please, Ms. Garcia?" He gave me another reassuring look as I thought about how to phrase my answer.

The courtroom waited patiently for me to start, "My birthday is on August 9th. I was turning eighteen the next day and could legally live on my own without having Mr. Riggs try to bring me back. I had been dreaming of leaving and never having to see him again for so long, that I was prepared to run the minute the clock struck midnight." I was prepared for Mr. Finch's next few questions. He had told me that in order to win over the jury, we had to try and prove to them that there is nothing for me to hide. Everything about how I have lived for the past few years needed to be out in the open.

"Had you run away before then, Ms. Garcia?" He was the picture of calm.

"Yes," I tried to look as self-assured as he did, "I ran away three other times prior to my birthday. Once about six months into my stay with Mr. Riggs, another time when I turned sixteen, then again a little while after I turned seventeen."

He looked happy with my answer and asked again, "Picking up where you left off, what happened that night?"

I looked hesitantly around the courtroom, but found that once I started talking the words poured out without any end in sight. "I was almost finished packing when Mr. Riggs got home. I was pretty sure he was drunk because he always called me 'Penny' when he had a few too many beers. He walked into my room and saw all of my stuff packed and i- He seemed...upset." I said carefully. Mr. Finch gave me a nod and I continued, "He had done a lot of… things… to me over the years and I just knew that look on his face…"

The serenity my prosecutor had five minutes ago was broken and his face contorted with sympathy, "I'm sorry Ms. Garcia, but could you describe the 'things' he had done to you in the past?"

I shifted in my seat. Sweat was gathering on my forehead and I wiped quickly at it before responding. "Mr. Riggs started to verbally and physically abuse me after his wife died...I would get beaten once a week at first, but then it turned into every other day and whenever I did something wrong. Once he realized that there were more effective ways of causing me pain...he moved onto whips, waterboarding, and locking me into cupboards. One day though, a boy from my Sophomore class walked me home. Mr. Riggs had gotten home early that day and saw us. He must have looked too deep into it because that night he came into my room… and started yelling an- I didn't know what was happening but he ra- sexually assaulted me."

That word. Rape. I couldn't say it out loud, couldn't victimize myself any further. It sounded so evil and cruel and not right. My life wasn't supposed to be revolving around this. I knew that winning the case was going to be one of the only ways to truly get Albert Riggs out of my life.

Mr. Finch looked like he was about to ask another question when I interrupted with, "He didn't use a condom… He always used a condom up until that night." Mr. Finch swiftly moved from the witness stand to the front table and grabbed a file.

"Your Honor, I would like to submit this item as prosecution evidence #16." He waited for the Judge to look over it and nod before showing it to the jury. A sonogram.