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“Lennox? Lennox are you alright?” I heard McAdams’ voice full of concern. I couldn’t slow my breathing down enough to answer him. Panic had adrenaline coursing through my system. Every inch of me was trembling.
The Judge announced a one-hour recess and asked people to clear the courtroom.
“I – need – Tom,” I stuttered out between breaths. McAdams looked at the public gallery where Tom was standing, staring at me unmoving, and gestured for him to come down.
The Advocate called over to someone else, “Can you get Mr Thatcher here please, and it might be worthwhile to get one of the first aiders in.”
“It’s – panic,” I stumbled out.
An indiscriminate amount of time passed, and suddenly Tom was beside me.
“Shhh,” he soothed, taking my hands in his own. “Remember that first day I met you. What did we do? Remember?”
I tried to nod in reply, but I wasn’t sure that it was recognisable. Tom squeezed my hand tighter. “Breathe in through your nose.” He did what he had told me to do. “Hold,” he reminded me. “Out through your mouth,” he told me, making an exaggerated example of what he was saying. “In through your nose, hold it, out through your mouth.”
I kept looking at him and let the sound of his voice soothe me, following his instructions until my breathing settled into a more normal pace, and my heart rate started to come down. I could feel my eyes starting to prickle with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I uttered as a lone tear trickled over my cheek.
Tom cupped my face, wiped the tear with his thumb, and stared into my eyes. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. This is panic at seeing what a cruel thing that woman did to you, reminding you of what happened. Your body is just trying to defend you. Don’t dare say sorry, you’re simply trying to survive.”
A first aider appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “I think we’re okay now,” Tom replied to their arrival without even looking over his shoulder. “Aren’t we?” he asked me.
Silently I nodded. He handed me the water that McAdams had approached with earlier. “Drink this slowly.”
Again, I listened, and did what he told me, sipping at the cool water, giving my body the time it needed to settle. Slowly the staccato nature of my breathing started to disappear, the trembling of my hands started to pass, and my legs returned to a solid form again, capable of taking my weight.
“Ready to stand?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” I replied, as Tom took the glass from me and handed it to McAdams who was still standing on hand in case he was needed for anything.
“Big breath.” Tom smiled at me grabbing my forearms with his hands, encouraging me to lock my grip on his arms in the same way. I took a deep breath and Tom pulled me to my feet. For the briefest of moments I swayed until my balance settled and I was able to be released and stand under my own power.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I announced.
“Don’t be,” McAdams replied. “You’d be surprised how many times it can happen. You’re not the first to go down in the witness box, and I can guarantee, you’ll not be the last.” He smiled genuinely at me. “Do you want to continue? We have ways to work around it if you don’t.”
I shook my head and took Tom’s hand in mine. “No, I want to see it through. I just wasn’t expecting it to hit me like that is all. But I want to finish this. I have to.”
McAdams bowed his head once in acknowledgement. “Let me go and talk to the court and inform them that you would like to proceed.”
“Are you really okay?” Tom asked once the Advocate was out of earshot.
“It was seeing the blood on the scene, knowing that it almost cost me my life, seeing the injuries. I actively avoided looking in the mirror after it happened, because it was a reminder of it all. And I know that they showed me the photos in the trial prep, but it’s different seeing them here, feeling like everyone is looking at me and at them. It started to feel like I was on trial, not her.”
Tom’s arms surrounded me, and he pulled me in against him, hugging me tightly. “You did nothing wrong. I know that the press make it seem different and that everyone assumes things about it. Until you’ve had a gun pointed at you, you have no idea how you’ll react.”
A sudden thought came to my mind. “Have you been shot?” I asked him, pulling back from his hug.
A wincing smile crossed his face. “The scar on my shoulder.”
“You told me that was a car accident!” I stared at him in shock.
“I mean it was, I crashed the car because they shot me.”
My eyes widened. “You are not funny. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“I didn’t want to be that person that makes it all about them. You didn’t ask about it until you were healing well, and I didn’t want you to think too much about it happening to anyone else.”
