It's Our Secret

by W. Winters

  “You aren’t just questioning me. You’re questioning what I already told you … maybe that’s your job, but mine is to get a lawyer.”

  36

  Dean

  So many eyes are on me as I sit here in the hard wooden chair. There’s only one gaze that calls to me, though. One that begs me to look back.

  Allison.

  She’s so close, yet unreachable. All I can hear as my lawyer and the district attorney go back and forth in front of the judge is my heart racing, begging me to turn to her and ease the worry and pain I know she’s feeling.

  She’s staring at me like that day in class when I first got the balls to talk to her. That day she gave into me. I can feel her staring at me like I did her, but I can’t resist her the way she did with me. I never could.

  When I turn to face her, I can’t stand the look in her eyes. It’s clear she blames herself. I would give anything to go to her, but I have to rip my gaze away.

  I don’t know where we stand. If she hates me. Condemns me. Loves me. Please God, let her love me still. I’d do anything for her.

  My throat’s tight, as is the pain in my chest when my lawyer argues in my defense. It’s only an arraignment and my lawyer said the case they have is weak.

  A plea of not guilty by reason of temporary insanity is my best bet for surviving this and I don’t object to it.

  Judge Hubert is an old man. The years are shown through the wrinkles around his pale blue eyes and the white beard around his scowl.

  His gaze lingers on me while the prosecutor reads the statement from the psychologist who examined my initial confession.

  It’s more evidence but at least the shrink supports my case. Not that the prosecutor sees it that way. He’s doing his damnedest to make sure this goes to trial. A plea of temporary insanity isn’t applicable, according to him. Every time his hard voice booms in the courtroom, my hands clench into fists. If he were in my position, I can’t imagine he’d do any different.

  I just want to get out of here. In my head, I imagine them letting me walk out right now so I can go straight to Allie. So I can finally talk to her.

  I don’t know if she’s all right. I know she refused medical help. I know he didn’t get a chance to … I have to clear the lump in my throat at the thought, a chill rolling down my spine and making me that much more tense. I overheard some cops talking about it. For that reason alone, all of this is worth it. Even if it weakens my case.

  At least I saved her from that.

  Still, I need to hear her say she’s okay. I need to hear it from her.

  I’m only able to take a quick glance, just one. As soon as our eyes lock, hers well up with a sadness I hate. With a pain I wish I could take from her. And she apologizes. Again.

  “Your honor, our case is strong. There was nothing my client could have done given his mental state when he arrived on the scene.” My lawyer, Nina Abbot, speaks clearly and confidently. As if there’s no greater truth than the words she’s made echo throughout the courtroom. “He was unaware of reality. In that moment, he was not aware of what he was doing. Only his motions, not what they would result in.”

  I force my gaze back to the wooden table in front of me. It’s smooth and smells like lemon as if it was just polished before we came out here.

  It’s difficult to breathe as she places her hand on my shoulder. “It’s obvious given my client’s testimony and the report just read from Dr. Agostino that given the situation, Mr. Warren was not in his right mind to control his actions.”

  “That only holds true if in fact the testimony from both Mr. Warren and Allison Parker are reliable, and there are questions surrounding the validity of Miss Parker’s statement.” The prosecutor’s voice rings out and my fists turn white knuckled. I keep my gaze down, refusing to look at him and his tailored suit. The image of his face is clear in my mind as I keep my shoulders and neck stiff. His jaw is hard and cleanly shaven. His eyes cold and unforgiving. He’s a man who will fight to put me behind bars at all cost. The very thought should be terrifying as I sit here, because I did it. I murdered him. But I did it for her. And I’d do it again.

  “With all due respect, Miss Parker’s statement is irrelevant. Mr. Warren’s mental state was determined by his perception when he arrived on the property. The same perception that the third witness, Mrs. Clemons, the adjacent neighbor who witnessed the end of the act, gave. As far as my client and Mrs. Clemons could both tell, Miss Parker was in imminent danger. Whether or not she’s even capable or willing to testify is irrelevant.”

  The sound of the courtroom doors opening beg me to look behind me, but I resist. My body’s tight and my muscles coiled. I hardly trust myself to breathe. I can still feel Allie looking at me. I refuse to move unless it’s to go to her.

  It’s only when my lawyer turns away from me and the soft whispers of furious voices make the rest of the room turn silent, that I force myself to look in my periphery.

  The sound of two people walking down the aisle draws my attention more. A skinny young woman, dressed in black slacks and a loose, cream blouse, is hidden by the silhouette of the man beside her but as they walk, her face comes into view.

  I think her name is Angie. She has the same chem lecture as Allison and me and I’ve seen her around a few times. She stands just past Mr. Beck, the prosecutor, and next to another man in a suit. I turn my head to make sure it’s her. Her blonde curls dangle in front of her face and I’m sure she’s doing it on purpose.

  She’s ashamed. Even as she stands there, clasping her hands in front of her, she starts to cry. Silent tears that she quickly wipes away.

  “Your honor, new evidence has just come to our attention and we’d like a recess.” Mr. Beck finally addresses the court, although his voice is laced with something that gives me hope.

  Defeat.

  “What is this new evidence?” the judge asks, his pale blue eyes moving between Angie and the man who brought her in.

  “The prosecution’s defense rests heavily on the questionability of Miss Parker’s statement that Mr. Henderson was forcing himself on her. A witness has come forward stating the action of Mr. Henderson is a repeated offense.”

  “As in, he attempted to rape her?” the judge clarifies and Angie lowers her head, tears falling freely, and this time she doesn’t brush them away.

  “Charges were pressed in early August, but the case was never brought to court. The charges were dismissed.” The quiet air of the room changes, turning to whispers and murmurs. Back in early August I hadn’t been accepted into the program yet. But Kevin was here then at his parents’ place.

  “Your honor,” Mr. Beck says, “the case was never—”

  “They settled out of court?” the judge asks, cutting off Mr. Beck and the district attorney shakes his head no.

  “The witness refused to testify and dropped the charges.”

  The judge taps his pointer finger on the gavel in front of him, considering her and the new information.

  “I’m sorry,” I hear Angie say in a tight voice. She’s trying to whisper but it’s useless in a room where everyone’s watching her. Her shoulders are hunched and trembling as she pleads with Allie to understand, “I should have told you sooner. I was so ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  37

  Allison

  The air is cold for only being October. It doesn’t help that it’s late, dark, and I’m standing in the shadow outside of the jail.

  Even with the chill in my bones and the wind whipping around my face, I’m hot. It’s from the anxiety.

  I don’t even think I can feel anything really. At least, I wasn’t until the double glass doors open and Dean walks out of them.

  My eyes don’t stray from the entrance as he strides forward, looking to his left and right. I don’t recognize the clothes he’s in; they must be new or maybe the lawyer brought them to him so he had clothes to leave in. Dark jeans and a crisp white polo look odd on him as he passes under the streetli
ght just outside of the doors, but he’s never looked better to me. I’ve never wanted him more.

  He’s free. Free to go with no charges pressed. There isn’t enough evidence to support a trial for what they charged him with.

  I want to take him away before anyone can say anything differently.

  All I have in me is a shaky half step forward, but I can’t move any farther. He may be free from all of this but I’m not, and I don’t deserve to be. The sheer terror of what this confession will do to me is enough to keep me cemented in place.

  It’s enough that he sees me. The small motion makes him look at me and when he does, everything changes.

  “Allie.” The way he says my name frees me from the spot I’ve been chained to. I run to him as quickly as my body will allow. Crashing my chest against his and holding him with a fierceness I’ve never felt before. As if letting go of him would mean losing him. I can’t lose him. Please God, let him love me still.

  “Are you okay?” we both say at nearly the same time. His hands travel from my cheeks to my arms, then lower. As if checking every part of me and making sure I’m all right. Apart from a few bruises, there’s nothing on the outside that’s hurt.

  I can barely nod as I look him over. He spent days in jail and was charged with murder. All because of me.

  “Everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s okay.” He repeats himself as he kisses my hair. As if it really is but I know all too well that it’s not. With a heavy inhale I get a whiff of his scent and I hold onto him tighter, refusing to let go. I have to tell him. He deserves to know it’s my fault. He wanted the truth and I owe him that much.

  “Dean.” When I say his name, my voice cracks and his eyes spark with slight fear. The same fear that runs through my own blood.

  “Let’s get out of here,” is his only response as his dark eyes pierce into mine. “Let’s just go.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask him as my heart pounds and I barely get out the words. The dreaded sickness stirs in my belly. I have to tell him. That’s why I refuse to let his hand go. It may be the last time I ever hold him.

  The sound of a passing car in the street behind us catches my attention, but I feel Dean’s gaze and it never leaves me.

  “I don’t care. Anywhere,” he says while still staring deep into my eyes.

  “It sounds a lot like running away to me,” I tell him honestly with a shaky breath. The bitter wind of the cold night whips by us and it only makes each of us move closer to the other. I’m on the edge of falling again but this time, I don’t want to stop myself. I almost don’t want to tell him. I want to run away with him. So long as I’m with him.

  “Maybe sometimes,” he says then pauses and takes my hand in his, taking a step closer to me. I have to lift my head to look him in the eyes. “Maybe sometimes it’s okay to run away.”

  “I thought we were only supposed to run toward something?” I remind him.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you call it, Allie. As long as I’m running with you, that’s all that matters to me.”

  My eyes close and I lean into Dean’s hard chest. His strong arms wrap around me and I cling to him. “Can we forget the past?” I ask him softly, my question lingering in the heat between us. “I don’t want to remember any of it anymore.”

  I can feel the urge to lie. To keep it all a secret. My heart begs me not to speak the truth. It wants Dean too much.

  “Whatever you want to forget, I’ll help you,” he whispers and his voice sounds pained. He still loves me. The pitter-patter in my chest hurts.

  My fingers skim along his shirt and my conscience begs me to confess to him, at war with everything else. The moment my lips part, his finger slips down against my lips.

  I shake my head away from his fingers, refusing his protest to not say it. It’s now or never, and I can’t let it be never.

  “Dean, I have something I have to tell you,” I say and swallow thickly, hating myself in this moment. I hate what I’ve become. How revenge and justice consumed me. My obsession changed who I was. For years.

  I’m only vaguely aware of where we are and how someone could overhear, but I’m so afraid that if I don’t tell him right now, I never will.

  “Is it about what happened?” Dean asks me, his voice hard and I can only nod. The words pile up in the back of my throat, suffocating me. “Then you don’t have to say it.”

  “You have to listen,” I plead with him. “It’s about me,” I start to say, and my words come out scratchy as my throat closes. “It’s my fault.”

  “You didn’t make him hurt you.” Dean’s shoulders tense as he looks at me without holding back any emotion. The air turns bitter cold between us. “I don’t care if you feel like you should have known. Fuck, I don’t care if you were drunk and passed out naked with the door wide open.” Dean’s words are harsh as he lets the anger slip out. “I don’t care if you blame yourself. I don’t care if the world thinks you should have known. I don’t give a fuck.”

  I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as tears prick my eyes.

  “He didn’t do it just once,” Dean says and I can’t hold back anything anymore.

  I let out a hard, ugly sob, the images of Sam going up the stairs flashing through my mind. Shouldn’t we have known back then? I wish we had. God, I swear I wish we had. “I want to take it back,” I sob, barely getting out the words.

  “Allie Cat, don’t cry.” Dean’s words come out softly and he pulls me into his arms again.

  “Please,” I beg him as if he alone has the power to go back. I need him to listen. To hear me, and to understand.

  He kisses my temple, my hair, rocking me as my tears slowly subside. I sniffle and try not to get his shirt wet and smeared with mascara, but he doesn’t let me pull away.

  “I’m not innocent,” I tell Dean, looking him in the eyes and feeling the confession right there. “I’m telling you when I opened that door—”

  “You let him in,” Dean says and cuts me off. “That’s all opening that door did. You let him in.”

  “I knew who he was.” I let out the first part of the confession, the dark dirty secret spilling out in small pieces.

  “All you did was let him in.” He responds as if he didn’t hear me.

  I gave him the chance he needed. There’s an evil in the eyes of those who cause pain. It won’t be influenced. I should know. I knew when I opened that door that I was staring into the eyes of a man who would hurt me. And I welcomed him.

  “I wanted him to come in. I wanted him to hurt me.” My words are strangled, but Dean hears them.

  His grip on me loosens as he looks down at me with an expression of disbelief, but it’s quick to harden and he shakes his head.

  “My friend Sam. He raped her,” I say but have to stop and cover my mouth with my hand as I gasp for air. My eyes close as I try to calm myself down and Dean holds me, begging me to just come with him, but I need to get it out.

  “Dean.” I barely manage to look him in the eyes as I cling to his forearms and confess. “I came here knowing who he was. I wanted him to hurt me, so I could get justice for what he did to Sam.” It’s her name on my lips that makes my voice tremble and the tears fall. “I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t want this.”

  Dean doesn’t speak as the night gets colder and darker and a gust of wind pulls my hair behind my shoulder, baring my neck and letting the chill travel down my spine.

  “So, if you want to run, I don’t know that you’d really want me to be the one beside you. I’m not a good person, and I haven’t been in so long. I hated him, Dean. I wanted him to pay …”

  Dean takes a step backward and the chill instantly replaces what’s left of his warmth, but I can’t stop myself from telling him everything.

  “I came here,” I say then pause as my vision clouds with tears and my shoulders shake. “I came here to set him up. I knew he would do it again ... not like that. I didn’t know that would happen but I just had to give him the chance.
It’s my fault.”

  “He already had,” Dean says although his gaze is vacant, and his words fall flat. “That girl in our class … he already had.”

  “I didn’t know,” I say and then wipe under my eyes with the sleeves of my sweater. I can barely look Dean in the eyes.

  “There’s so much I didn’t know. I didn’t know I would meet you, let alone …” I hesitate to admit what’s between us. Or what was between us. It’s odd, sensing the sickness of the truth being quickly replaced by emptiness. It’s all that’s left as I wait for Dean’s judgment. But he doesn’t say anything.

  “Please talk to me.” I have no right to speak to him, but I still beg him. If he hates me, I’ll deserve it.

  “Say it,” Dean commands me. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” I grasp at anything I can to give Dean what he wants. “I didn’t know I’d fall for you. I didn’t think this would happen.”

  “You didn’t think I’d kill him?” he asks as if he really thinks I’d set him up for that. I shake my head violently, praying that he’ll believe me.

  “Never. I never thought for one moment that you would get hurt.”

  “You thought you could let him hurt you like that and that I’d be okay?” he asks me, his eyes narrowed and his hands clench and unclench. He’s on edge and for the first time, I’m scared.

  “I thought you were done with me,” I whisper and hearing the words and feeling the reality of them in this moment, makes a sharp pain tear through me, regret seeping into my veins.

  “How could you ever think that?” Dean asks me in a single breath.

  I can’t answer. I don’t have the words or the logic. “I just wanted him to pay for what he did to her.” That’s the truth. The need for him to get what he deserved outweighed everything else.

  “I already knew, Allie,” Dean says and swallows harshly as if he’s the one confessing. “I had a lot of time in my cell to think. About what I knew about Kevin. About what I knew about you. Samantha Jenkins. She’s the girl who claimed someone raped her at a party I was supposed to go to years ago. They never told us who the charges were against and I didn’t know it was Kevin.”