I'm chewing my nails that are now non-existent from the nervous biting I've been doing. I watch the clock hands move by the second. My heart seemed to match each tick of the seconds hand as it becomes all I can hear.

"Munchkin, we can do this, it's okay" Oliver whispers to me, breaking me out of my trance. The way that he said it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

Funny, the nickname I once hated and wanted to punch him for, is actually the one thing I love to hear. It always brings a sense of ease to my panicked state.

"Hun, the option still stands. You can go into the other room, watch it all on a screen, you don't have to even see him in person, you don't have to be in the room" Officer Andrews reminds me, I shake my head.

I've told them before, I have to do this, I need to confront him, be strong, show I'm not weak. I have to be in that room when they announce his crimes and sentence him. I have to do this for me.

That right. It's been about 2 months since. So, today's the sentencing, his sentencing.

He pleaded guilty, to our surprise. He pleaded guilty for 2 accounts of kidnapping, 1 attempted murder, sexual advances and stalking onto a minor, bodily assault, sexual assault and...8...rape charges.

He pleaded guilty to accept a plea deal. He got beat up in prison a month ago by other inmates. Apparently, they don't approve of paedophiles. With the deal he gets to go into protective custody for an unknown amount of his sentencing to 'protect' him.

I don't care, as long as he's gone. As long as he's put away.

For the past 2 months, everyday I've felt myself getting a little better. When I was discharged from hospital Becks forced me to go shopping, said I 'needed a new look'. She had to help me get changed because of my casted up wrists, I know she saw the scars, I heard her gasp but she said nothing. She didn't look at me any different, of which I'm thankful for. I don't need any more pity.

The boys have been a godsend too. I love them all to bits. They've been helping with literally everything, I swear, if they keep going as they have, they are all going to turn into girls.

None of them have asked what happened, I kinda want to tell them but, I don't know how to put it, I don't know if I can say it without crying. But they are here now with me and Oliver at court, here for our support, so I guess they'll find out soon enough.

My counselling sessions have been reduced to biweekly, they were three times a week. I'm still taking a strong form of antipsychotics that contain antidepressants but I've not had any hallucinations since taking them. Even if the light goes out, I still freak out but I don't see anything.

It still scares me though.

I'm all healed up. The casts came off a few days ago, the pins they put into my left wrist are gone too. I still have supportive sleeves on because they ache a little, something about muscle reduction because of the lack of use. I'm going to physical therapy to strengthen them up, I can barely hold a fork.

His mark... it's closed. Scarred. Makeup won't cover it. Same with the slashes, I have 6 on my back. 3 of them on the small of my back. I want to cover them with something but I don't know what or how.

Officer Parker walks into the waiting room. "They're ready."

Me and Oliver stand up, mum, Becks and the boys are already seated in the room. We walk in.

As we walk through the door voices seem to hush. I look up to see the audience rows full up of members of the public, press and officers I guess were close to the case, including Officer Parker and Officer Andrews.

We walk past them and down the steps. I look to my right and see the jury's seats and see them empty. Since he pleaded guilty there is no need to prove and examine the case, it just goes straight to sentencing.

I take it all in. The bright lights and oddly quiet room. The eerie emptiness even though there is a full audience.

To the back of the room is where he will sit. The defendant. He will sit there with an officer either side of him. The next table up will be empty, it would have had solicitors.

Next up is where our prosecution and his defence attorney will be. Even though there is nothing to prove because he's admitted to it, they will still need to be here to argue a longer or shorter sentence and disclose the plea deal details.

At the head of the room is where the judge will sit. He's not in yet.

I see the stand I would have had to go in if he had pleaded 'not guilty'. I would have had to recall everything he had done. I would have been question about everything and have people judge me and believe I was lying. I'm relived I don't have to do that.

We walk to the side where the boxed in seating for me and Oliver is. We have another lawyer with us to explain what is going on if we don't understand something.

Oliver lets me sit by the opening in case I need to leave. He's been so perfect, just everything he does is perfect. He knows when I need space or when I need company, I'm starting to think he's psychic.

To our right is where our family is sitting, they are in a separate boxed in seating like ours but a little bigger. I see Oliver's dad, my mum and our friends sitting nervously.

The judge walks in. After sometime he calls the defendant in for sentencing. The footsteps get closer in the distance, after a while of looking down at my hands as I fiddle nervously with then, I find the courage to look up.

My heart stops as I find him already looking at me with a huge smile on his face.

Don't cry. I tell myself.

I'm not showing weakness to him. I refuse it. I will not be scared. I will not cry. I am strong.

He cannot hurt me.

I find the confidence to glare at him, he chuckles in response. It makes me feel sick.

"Mr Kyle. May I have your attention" the judges voice booms with authority as he addresses him with more of an order than request.

Oliver squeezes my hand.

"My apologies your honour, I got distracted by a beautiful face" he replies with a smirk. I feel the need to vomit as his eyes rake across my face again.

"Do not address the prosecution and turn your attention to me" the judge seethes at him. He looks to the judge. The judge looks at him with nothing but anger "stand" he demands. The defendant stands as told.

He looks...tired. He still has what looks to be a black eye from being beaten up, maybe even from a more recent attack. Clean shaven. His hair looks a little longer than It was but apart from that, he looks the same. He even has a suit on.

"You are accused of 2 accounts of kidnapping, 1 attempted murder, sexual advances and stalking onto a minor, bodily assault, sexual assault and 8 rape charges. How do you plead?" The judge asks him.

I hear our family and friend's gasp. I dare not look at them.

He smirks "guilty...however, if I recall correctly, shouldn't it be 9 rape charges?" He turns his head to me and addresses me directly "you never blacked out. How could you forget one?" you can hear the anger in his voice that I may have forgotten what he did.

What he did to me...

"Do not address the prosecution!" The judge booms again.

His smile returns on realisation "oh I see, it was so bewildering-or should I say breath-taking, because I seem to recall you couldn't really breathe at the time, or maybe that was because of all the pathetic crying you were doing-"

"Mr Kyle!" The judge shouts but he keeps going, staring straight at me, my eyes, into my soul.

"I guess you lost track. Was 8 just a guess? It was a good guess, very close-"

"MR KYLE! One more word out of you and I will send you away for your sentencing and you will have to find out your own fate later" the judge shouts.

My whole body shakes. Tears threaten to fall. Oliver puts an arm around my shoulders and I squeeze his hand.

"For the 2 accounts of kidnapping 15 years, attempted murder 20 years, sexual advances and stalking onto a minor 2 years, bodily assault 2 years, sexual assault 5 years and 9 rape charges 20 years. I sentence you to 64 years of imprisonment. You will spend 10 years of this sentence in protective custody, after that you will be released into the general population, do we agree on this sentence?" The judge announces.

Both ours and his lawyers agree on the sentence and then it is done.

64 years. He will get 64 years for what he's done. He will get out when he's 91, if he lives that long. His fellow inmates don't seem to be fond of him. My grandparents only lived to 74.

He will rot like I promised.

I'm not even sure if it's real but he will go to hell.

I smile and finally let my tears leak out my eyes. I smile so widely I probably look like a madman.

Away for life. I'll never see him again.

This is real.

Gasps and shouts pull me out of my imagination. I look up to see him...

In front of me.

He grabs me by my forearm and pulls me out of the stand I'm in.

Time slows around me.

His hand around my neck, he pulls my back flush against his front. "If i can't have her, no one can! If I must die for her, she will die for me!" He screams as more officers pile into the room. "I will never let you go babydoll" he whispers to me before I'm thrown against the court wall and his hands return to my neck.

He's truly gone insane.

He squeezes. He squeezes so hard. I feel his hands shake from the pressure. A single tear rolls from his eye. I claw at his hand and my mouth opens to take a breath but I can't.

"I love you too much, my little doll" he whispers before his lips crash on mine, seemingly sucking the literal life from me.

I feel hands trying to come between us, trying to get him off me. But his grip is tight.

I feel myself going limp when the pressure leaves and I take a huge breath, I fall to the floor coughing.

All sound filters out as people rush to me. I hear distant shouting from him as he fights to get back to me once again.

I cough violently and clutch my neck.

I look up and see my family and friends gathered around me. Damian being pulled away but still only 3 meters away from me.

A single officer attached to his arm as more are running over. I see Oliver walk up to Damian, he grabs his collar and punches him straight in the face.

Damian falls to the floor and the other officers drag him away. Medics rush my way, Oliver joins my side, everybody's talking at the same time as I still struggle to get my breath back.

I pick one voice out from the rest.

"Easy munchkin, easy. Just focus on getting your breath back, nothing else. Just breathe" I listen to Oliver and block everyone else's panicked voices out, the shouting, the banging, all of it.

The coughing stopped. I hug Oliver.

"I'm okay" I say out loud.

I don't know if I'm trying to convince myself, Oliver or everyone else but I say it again in my croaky voice.

"I'm okay."

Oliver picks me off the floor and attempts to carry me out the room but i stop him.

I am not weak.

I am strong.

I hold Oliver's hand and see his knuckles blistered. I kiss his hand, showing him, I seen what he did and I appreciate it. He smiles and tightens his hold on my hand.

I stand on my own two feet and walk out ahead of everyone else holding Oliver's hand still. I walk out of there confident and strong.

We walk out, confident and strong.

I hope he enjoyed that goodbye kiss because he's never seeing, hearing or touching me again.

We get out the building, Oliver side hugs me and places a light kiss on my cheek. I smile at him. We are strong and he can't hurt us.

Not now.

Not ever again.

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💜