He shrugged and his scowl fell away, now replaced by a smile. “No wonder Ashton’s crazy about you if you treat him like this all the time.” I recoiled, taken aback by his words. He thinks Ashton is crazy about me? I shrugged it off and looked at Dean expectantly; he still hadn’t answered the question. “Pancakes and bacon?” he suggested. I grinned and pulled the stuff from the fridge, getting to work.

Later that afternoon, I was chewing on my nails so much that they were starting to bleed, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing it. The man with the greying, thinning hair in the expensive suit sitting opposite me on the sofa looked just the same as he did three years ago, although maybe a little thicker around the middle. This was the man that had sat me down and convinced me that I needed to give evidence at Carter’s trial the first time. I hadn’t wanted to, in fact, I’d adamantly protested, but he’d talked at me and talked at me until I’d given in. Of course, there were restrictions on what I would give evidence on. I’d point blank refused to tell anyone what really went on between me and Carter at his house, so none of the abuse, rapes, or kidnapping charges were ever filed against him, much to this man’s disgust.

My evidence hadn’t actually helped much the first time around because I’d refused to press charges against Carter, so whenever someone asked me how I came to be at his house, or what happened to me there, it was quickly objected by Carter’s team of highly priced lawyers, and then the jury were told to disregard anything they’d heard that did not relate to the actual murder of Jack.

As a matter of fact, Carter’s team of three lawyers, had practically ripped my evidence to shreds, making me look like an immature, jealous girlfriend who barely understood what was being asked. It hadn’t helped matters that I hadn’t slept for three days prior to the trial, so I looked and acted like an emotionless zombie while I was being questioned. In the end, I actually felt as if I’d done more harm than good.

“The court are obviously understanding of your father’s position now. We have the evidence that you gave last time on video. If we need to refer to anything, we can refer to transcripts of it.” He unclasped his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers, thumbing through them. “Of course, I have you on my list of vetted witnesses, but I’m not going to call you to the stand again,” he assured me. “The only thing that’s happened in the last month is that the defence has also put you down as a witness for their side this time.”

My mouth fell open in shock. “The defence have? What the hell for?”

He frowned and nodded. “I’m not quite sure what they hope to achieve, but the judge will not allow them to call you in on a whim. With your father being who he is, and you being in the public eye too, they won’t just be able to call you to trial without due cause. I’m assuming that they’ve added you onto their list as a publicity stunt. If they bring you in, it will draw attention to the case because of your social standing.”

I ground my teeth in frustration. “I won’t give evidence to help him,” I spat.

Mr Stanson nodded, still shuffling his papers. “I don’t believe it will come to that at all. As I said, I won’t be calling you again but may refer to your testimony. And the defence will only be allowed to call you to stand if they can prove that you can provide something new and enlightening. I strongly believe this is all just a stunt, possibly to rattle you before the trial.” He held out a stapled piece of paper to me. “Just in case though, let’s go over a few things that you said in the last trial, and I’ll brief you on any questions that you may be asked. We don’t want you to be tripped up like you were before. After that, I’ll describe what it’s like inside a court room. I’m assuming that you’ve never set foot in one before?”

I shook my head. The only court case I had ever been involved in was Carter’s, and then I’d been a minor so I was in a separate, normal room, while the lawyers asked me questions through video link.

I took the offered paper, noticing that it was a transcript of my evidence from last time. My head was buzzing with thoughts. The one that was the most prominent was that Carter had put me on that list just because he could. He was sending me a message that he could still get to me and have an effect on my life, even behind bars. This was a control thing all over again. I raised my chin, vowing that I wouldn’t let him or this trial get to me like it did last time. Last time I’d fallen to pieces while being questioned, this time would be a different story.

When he finally left, an hour later, my heart was heavy and my brain fuzzy. For the rest of the day, it was like I was sitting under a raincloud and I just couldn’t lift my spirits. My tiredness didn’t help my situation. Dean was blissfully unaware of what I was doing as I sat in my bathroom, using a razor to make four small but precise cuts on the inside of my forearm. The pain helped marginally, but it still wasn’t enough. I longed for Ashton. I longed for his arms, and his smile, and the silly things that he said to cheer me up when I was sad. I was counting down the hours now.

Ashton called me just after suppertime, asking about how it went with the lawyer, and what he’d said. I’d made light of it, not giving him the full story because I knew that he would just get angry if he knew that Carter’s side had me on their witness list too. I’d tried to remain emotionless, but Ashton just seemed to bring something out in me that I couldn’t control. In the end, I’d sat there, silently crying while he’d whispered soothing words down the phone, telling me that everything was fine and that I wouldn’t even get called up.