Page 10 of Hunt You Down

He didn’t need to say anything else. I didn’t have a choice anymore.

Another deep breath, and I looked up at Nicholas. “Okay.”

Nicholas opened the doors, allowing me and Dylan to step through before skirting around us. He directed us both to seats in the front row, then let himself past the partition. Two identical wooden tables sat situated in front of the judge’s bench. On the left were twelve chairs for the jury. Nicholas flipped through papers in his briefcase, and I took a moment to look around the room. Courtrooms are so much bigger than on TV. The judge would sit at least a foot above my head. I eyed the witness stand and at the knowledge that it would eventually be me in that seat, I grew nauseous. When I looked at the table where Regan would be sitting moments from now, bile rose in my throat. I choked it down and, feeling eyes on me, I risked a glance to my right.

I shouldn’t have.

Regan’s mom, Rosemary, sat there. If looks could kill… Thankfully his sister, Carrie, hadn’t noticed me yet.

Dylan’s hand on my shoulder distracted me. “Right here, David.”.

As he said that, the wooden doors swung open again. Regan strolled in, trailed by a woman I assumed was his lawyer. In an effort to look at him as little as possible, I took her appearance in first. She looked to be in her forties, and the black skirt suit she wore looked every bit as expensive as Nicholas’s suit. The black blazer clung to her in all the right places and the matching knee length skirt was perfectly pressed. Her nude stockings didn’t have a single imperfection to them, and the red-bottom pumps on her feet shone in the light. Her brunette hair was slicked back into a military-style bun. Ahead of her, however, was the opposite of perfect and professional. Unfortunately, he was looking right at me, and Regan’s mouth curled into an evil sneer. I didn’t recognize the suit he wore, which meant it must have been new. He’d brushed his hair and tied the fire-engine red ringlets into a low ponytail. He wasn’t cuffed. Didn’t they know how dangerous this man was?

I shivered.

I snapped my attention forward again, suddenly finding the seal on the bench the most interesting thing in the room. No sooner than Regan sat down, a door opened behind the judge’s chair and a bailiff stepped in. “Please rise.”

I stood on wobbly legs. The judge entered. Smaller, with her graying hair in a pixie cut, she looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly. The robe she wore nearly swallowed her. I noticed the name tag: Judge Sophia Ellington. She glanced around the room and smiled at everyone before directing us to have a seat.

“Case number CR-19-62593; the state of Georgia vs. Regan Hyland.”

“I understand there’s a plea deal on the table,” the judge said, directing her attention to Regan’s lawyer.

“There was, your honor.” She shot Nicholas a glare. “The prosecution however, rejected it.”

“And why is that?”

Nicholas stood and addressed the judge. “Your honor, we feel that the blatant disregard to previous warnings given by the victim, by law enforcement, and by yourself proves that the defendant has ill intention. For the victim’s safety, we think incarceration would be best for all parties involved. Especially considering he’s already ignored the temporary protection order.”

“Your honor my client has already served⁠—”

The judge held up a single hand. “Save it Ms. Powell.”

Judging by the look on her face, Ms. Powell wasn’t used to being silenced.

Judge Ellington looked at me with kind eyes. She was on my side. It seemed that she was just as sick of Regan’s shit as I was, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. I tugged at my collar, finding it difficult to breathe. What if she didn’t think it was worth taking to trial?

Without another word, she turned back to Regan. “Mr. Hyland, I for one, am tired of seeing your name come across my desk. If you can’t seem to follow simple instructions, then we have no other option. I tried to be nice by granting you bond but—” She paused to flip through the pages she had in front of her.

I could see the blue and grey bubbles from where I sat. It was the text messages I’d submitted, page after page of threats—to both me and Dylan. Along with it was proof of Regan creeping around my apartment building. I panicked all over again remembering sitting in the security office with my lawyer and a police officer while we looked over the footage.

Judge Ellington continued. “I have more than enough proof to tell me that you’re not taking this seriously. What is the prosecution’s counteroffer to the plea?”

“Two years of incarceration plus eighteen months of monitored probation and community service. On top of a permanent restraining order that would prevent the defendant from being within five hundred feet of Mr. Fischer, along with no contact.”

“Ms. Powell, what’s the decision going to be?”

Regan’s lawyer sat down next to him, and a heated conversation ensued. They were whispering, but I knew tension when I saw it. After all, I knew what Regan looked like when he was angry. The DA finally shook her head and stood. “My client would like to exercise his right to trial.”

Chapter Six

Over the few days, Dylan and I made the trip back and forth to the courthouse. Every day, like clockwork. We both testified, along with doctors, nurses, police officers. They even called in my apartment manager and to my surprise, Regan had character witnesses defend his behavior.

I actually had to excuse myself to get sick.

Every piece of evidence was brought forward and presented, every text message read aloud, and I couldn’t take it. Panic swept over me. I couldn’t breathe. Though to my relief, no one said a word—except for the judge calling for a recess. Dylan swept me outside, through the halls, and out of the courthouse. It wasn’t until I took a deep inhale of the fresh air that things began to pass. I was told later that Regan made his disdain known, and his prissy lawyer was less than impressed with his behavior.

They showed the pictures from the hospital and as each one was presented, the corresponding part of my body began to ache. At some point, I closed my eyes, wishing I was anywhere else.