Taylor sat at his desk with the door closed and only his desk lamp on. A few blank sheets of writing paper sat in front of him, and the subpoena to his left. He stared at it for a few minutes as if willing the print to fade away before sighing to himself and closing his eyes.
There were two weeks until the trials started. So far he'd only been requested to attend three daily sessions to give evidence, but he knew that was only an estimate and that he could be asked to more if they felt the need arose. Someone had suggested that he and Isaac put off moving into their new place until this time, so as to distract him as much as it could.
Opening his eyes, he wrote a date to the top of the first sheet of paper. July 20th, 2003.
He knew what they were going to ask him. They were going to ask him what happened. While he sure they knew it wouldn't be an easy question to answer, he wasn't sure if they knew exactly how complex it was going to be.
He moved the sheet aside and wrote a date onto the second. September 21st, 2003.
He noticed idly that they'd been almost exactly two months apart, before writing the last date onto the third sheet of paper. June 1st, 2004.
Having only three dates to write down calmed him somewhat. It gave the illusion that this could be over quicker than he'd thought, and he decided to go with it. It was only three times. One... two... three... and it's over. Just like that.
He pulled the first piece of paper to the top again, and put pen to paper beginning to write. It was just like telling a story. Telling a story that everyone wanted to hear. It was nothing to get worked up over. There was no use getting emotional over facts. It was just the past - it was hardly even real. Actually, it wasn't real. It had been and gone and that was it.
He faltered in his writing after some time, thinking once again about how Tanya had insisted he wouldn't be in the room with Blakesley. He couldn't help but be paranoid. What if they forgot? What if he got called back and he was there? What if... What if he had to face him again before he was ready? Granted that was going to be ten years or so...
He looked down at the paper and shook himself a little. He'd almost written a page already. He checked over the last few sentences, hoping to pick up where he'd left off.
The girl just simply couldn't understand why I would want to help her. To protect her. I kept trying to think of how she could have ended up this way without going completely insane or managing to kill herself. I did find out, of course...
This was a test, he told himself, just to see how much he remembered. Because he knew they'd want to know everything. And if it brought on perfect justice, he couldn't hold back.
Shrugging it off, he continued to write.
Another doctor entered the room and began to see to her. She was acting like a pet the entire time, even licking the man's fingers like a domesticated dog would in thanks. On his way out he came over to me and insisted that if I made it out to take her with me, or us as the case was...