Chapter 7 - The Trial Preparations
The weeks following the discovery in the basement were a whirlwind of legal depositions, meetings with reporters, and paperwork. My body slowly healed, the surgical stitches knitting back together under Dr. Sterling's watchful eye, though the emotional bruising took much longer to fade.
Mom and I officially finalized our decision: we were selling the house on Elm Street, liquidating whatever legitimate assets remained, and making the permanent move to Vermont to live near my aunt.
"Are you sure you're ready for this, Maya?" Mom asked one evening as we packed up the last of the kitchen boxes. "Your design freelance work is finally picking up traction in the city, and your bookstore manager said you could have your job back anytime."
I paused, holding a roll of packing tape in my hands, looking around the empty, echoey kitchen where so many painful memories had been forged over the past eight months.
"I love New York, Mom. But this city holds too many ghosts right now," I said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. "Besides, I can design logos and build websites from anywhere with an internet connection. Vermont sounds peaceful. And I think we both need a little peace."
Just then, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was an email notification from the local district attorney's office regarding Richard's upcoming preliminary hearing.
Subject: State vs. Richard Sterling - Preliminary Hearing Scheduled.
I opened the attachment. The trial was set for the following Tuesday. The prosecutor wanted me to provide a brief victim impact statement via video link so I wouldn't have to travel back and forth while recovering from surgery.
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I took a deep breath, feeling the phantom sting of the slap on my cheek—and then feeling the absolute strength of my own voice when I told the police officer, He's lying.
I was no longer the helpless girl recovering from surgery, trapped in a house ruled by fear. I was a survivor.
