There are very few places I can't picture myself in. This might be because I often find myself in the most peculiar of settings. Take, for example, the time I got into a turf war with the local stray cat around the back of my house. Or the time I ended up stuck in a portable toilet hyperventilating for ten minutes as people queued and shouted outside whilst I contemplated how I was to break free without tipping the contents of the toilet over my head, like you see in the films when the entire stall falls over, only to realise that I'd forgotten to unlock the door and hadn't been stuck at all. Or that very fresh memory of running down the streets in my pyjamas in search of the police station as my shins felt like they were frying from the recent inferno I'd been forced to run through in order to prevent my sudden death. Funnily enough, all incidents would have seemed fairly plausible to me prior to them actually occurring taking into account that it was, after all, me in question.

A place I couldn't picture myself in? Probably court. My experiences were serious but never had they reached quite such a level. Which leads me to the next obscure scene I had in fact found myself in: court. It had taken months to get there, but this was finally it. This was the final stand-off and I couldn't be more nervous.

Lots of things had changed since prom night. Unsurprisingly, most of those changes were found in Parker and I. They varied from minor alterations such as our group's bruises, cuts and broken bones collectively healing up so we didn't look like quite such a bunch of thugs anymore (not that I ever really passed as thug), to the start of Parker's temporary job and the return of his father.

It was a big surprise when my mother offered Parker a job at her bakery. Parker, though he hadn't yet admitted it, was thrilled to be shadowing her and receive such professional training without his past crimes deterring the boss. Not only because this acted as my mother at long last accepting him into the fold, but because as it turned out he genuinely enjoyed the practice. I'd always known he was passionate about cooking in spite of the disaster that had been Olivia's birthday cake - granted we'd been a little distracted upstairs when he'd made it in his sister's memory - and so it almost made me as happy as he was to see him that way, with his life sorted out even if my own wasn't.

I didn't know what I wanted to be or what I wanted to do with my time yet. If my experience from the previous year had taught me anything it was never to work in a grocery store when your boyfriend had a tendency to steal you away alongside the produce being sold. Despite neither one of us lacking in brains, the hectic events we'd undergone had understandably shown in the results of our sad attempt at sitting exams - or sitting in classes, period. Parker intended to go straight into work anyway and was more than content working nervously alongside my mother doing what he enjoyed. I, however, was still clueless.

But that didn't matter right now. It was a hurdle I refused to tackle until the much larger, closer, and most formidable of any I'd been faced with yet had been leapt over - a feat of which I was desperately hoping would be accomplished with minimal injury.

The matter of Mr Heywood was an even greater surprise. Parker's father, as it so happened, had been studying law in his time spent away from him. It was the only thing Mrs Heywood had known about him after he'd left - his ambition - and called on the off-chance he might have made something of himself. He had. Instead of working in a rundown music store like he had been prior to his abrupt departure he was now a successful lawyer, and in spite of his absence and previous disregard of Parker was more than happy to offer his services free of charge to support his son and friends. It was the least he could do, apparently, after how he had dealt with things. It came as nothing short of a miracle.

I'd been there when he asked Parker if this could be the first step on the road to forgiveness. That he wanted to mend the relationship he'd broken with he and his mother and start afresh. Though Parker claimed he was none too happy about this, he was wearing his bomber jacket (a relic left by his father so many moons ago) a lot more than he had been of recent days. Mrs Heywood, who had stood in similar defiance, could now be seen obviously happier as well. On the way to Parker's room one day I'd passed the kitchen and caught a glimpse of the pair having what seemed to be a dinner date. Mrs Heywood's can of beer had been replaced with a glass of tap water and the pair looked hesitant, but smiling. It had given me an odd burst of giddy happiness, which upon spotting Parker had mocked me for mercilessly. Apparently I was even softer at heart than he'd first presumed. I couldn't help it. Nobody could deny that love was beautiful, regardless of whether or not you were in it or just watching. It painted everything in softer, more pleasant hues and gave life purpose.

Something else I'd recently found to have given my own life purpose: my insatiable hunger for justice. Time had done something strange to me. At the beginning of it all I'd wanted to forget. To run and hide and lock the problem away in the darkest recesses of my mind and pretend it had never happened in the first place. Perhaps once my friends had come to be involved, endangered due to their involvement with me, it woke something up inside. It had unlocked that door concealing the need to see Ian punished for the terrible things he had done throughout his lifetime. For the death of my father. The need for me to make a stand and move on with the aspect in my life he'd taken from me. What fuelled the fire that was my desire to keep going, to keep fighting throughout the trials and tribulations that came alongside acquiring the court case needed to see his deserved future, was the hope I could be the one to push him behind bars. It was just a shame I couldn't be the one to do the physical push - and it was on that thought that I realised I had truly grown, and that though the notion of confronting the man who'd put a spanner in the works of my very existence was terrifying, I was as ready as ever to face him. In fact I wanted to face him. To show him he hadn't ruined me.

So I would.

"You look grown up," My mother said before I went inside, appraising my white blouse, knee-length black pencil skirt, tights and dress shoes not for the first time that morning. "Strong and fierce. It reflects who you've become, sweetheart. Don't forget that in there."

"I won't."

"If it gets too much seeing him again-"

"I don't need to make any sort of statement privately, mum. I've said that to you already. Believe me, I'm ready for this. I want to see him. I need to in order to put this nightmare behind me."

She let out a breath, curtly nodded her head with misty eyes and kissed me on the cheek. We walked inside, and so commenced the battle we'd all been waiting for.

Mr Heywood, or rather my attorney, stood, and walked up to the judge where the inquisitive faces of the crowd behind her could eagerly listen in. The judge was a stern looking woman, small dark eyes like beads sunken deeply into sun-weathered flesh. Her face, I could already tell, was one that would give nothing away.

"My client," Mr Heywood began, and my heart stuttered knowing he was referring to me. For all the bravado I was showing and the confidence that I did have in the strength of my case, it was court. Court was scary. So sue me if my stomach continued to churn like I was at sea and my palms were drenched in enough sweat to water the plants. Even the strongest person would feel an infinitesimal amount of fear at a court case concerning themselves. Their future. Besides Ian's, admittedly the futures I found myself most concerned for were that of Parker and company's. Technically speaking they were drug dealers; it wasn't just my personal psychopath's neck on the line today. "Has been subject to abusive acts both of the physical and mental variety at the hands of Edmond Anderson Adler, known to most involved in his heinous crimes as Doctor Ian Greene. Adler is a notorious drug lord which can be confirmed by his own distributers of produce of whom voluntarily turned themselves in. He has stalked and kidnapped my client in addition to raping her at the young and impressionable age of ten, consequently forcing her to live with deep psychological trauma in the form of Haphephobia and undergo the pressures of poorly prescribed medication and therapy for many years. Adler murdered the only witness to the sexual assault, my client's father, thus explaining the disappearance of Officer Montgomery in 2010 whose case was left unsolved. Committing identity theft he then murdered next door neighbour and family friend Doctor Ian Greene to hide from troublesome customers when off business and assume his role as therapist of my client, put in his care because of him. To evidence it all we have a recorded confession from Adler during another act of terror on his part within my client's own home as well as having found the bodies of both Ian Greene and Ethan Montgomery buried in the back garden of a house under his name, as was revealed within the recording. This reinforces what was said in the voice message is indeed factual information and not fabricated in spite of Adler's recent claims."

Mr Heywood went on, reciting back to the court room and I each and every horrendous memory I'd had to rehash over the past few weeks in an extraordinary difficult level of detail. Not that it was anything in comparison to when Ian's, or should I say Edmond's, attorney stood up to try and convince the judge it was nothing but lies. That her client had a severe case of both borderline personality disorder and bipolar disorder that had been left untreated along with psychological issues stemming from parental abandonment when young. That he was unstable and had laced facts throughout a pile of fiction. From the offset it was apparent what card they were playing, and I'd been warned by Mr Heywood that it would happen. That Edmond Anderson Adler was an unwell man and that had he had someone to guide him through life, had the system not forgotten him, had someone tried to help him with his mental welfare and prescribe him with the necessary medication, none of this may have happened. He couldn't help what had happened. He couldn't be blamed. In other words, he looked as guilty as sin so they were hoping for a lesser sentence since there was no other way out. What they couldn't escape from they were blaming on his fragmented frame of mind, and what they could potentially worm their way out of they were branding false accusations.

In the words of Parker this morning, the boy whose face I yearned more than anything to see right now in order to quell my worries but knew wasn't there due to my insistence he prepare for his own case: They'll say the truth's a lie and that all their lies are truth. You've just got to pretend it's Opposite Day so it doesn't bring you down too much. Let them justify nothing.

Matthew, whose own court case was lined up after mine, hadn't been allowed to hear those sage words of advice. I'd seconded Parker's logic in that if it had been said to him there was a highly probable chance he'd take Opposite Day far too literally when on the stand, saying everything he most definitely shouldn't. That was just his child-like nature, it couldn't be helped. That's why it was so terrifying that Matthew's case was the first of the guys'. The capsizing boats they were in were all of roughly the same size which meant however Matthew's case went down would be a massive indicator to the boys as to how well their own would fair. Mr Heywood had pulled a few strings in what he claimed to be a tactical move, putting the most innocent-looking of the boys up before the judge first in the hopes it would paint an innocent image of them collectively as a group. Matthew, golden haired and bright eyed, wasn't exactly someone you partnered with drugs and defying the law. Hayden, whose arms were generously inked and his nose pierced, unfortunately was. People might have said they didn't judge a book by its cover, that they disliked stereotypes, but when it came down to the crunch most of them did. Mr Heywood hoped first impressions of Matthew would stretch to the rest of his friends.

But I couldn't worry about them right now. What I had to worry about at this moment in time was my mother, who had just been called to the stand.

"The real Ian Greene was a family friend, correct?" Asked Edmond's attorney. His underbite was severe to a concerning extent and made his chin seem even pointier than it was as he spoke.

"Yes," Answered my mother. She seemed calm and collected, but I knew her. She wasn't. "That is correct."

"And you'd say you were close friends for at least, what, a good five?"

"Yes."

"So, Mrs Montgomery, can you tell me how it is that this alleged close friend of yours wasn't missed when an entirely new person took his place?"

"Well-"

"How it wasn't obvious upon the meeting you and he would have undoubtedly had concerning your fragile daughter," He drew quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he paced before my mother, who, understandably, was beginning to look rather rattled. "To commence medical treatment by him that he wasn't the same man? Surely if Flora's state of mind was as awful as you're telling us you would have looked into the man whose care she was to be put under thoroughly enough to realise he was an imposter with dyed hair and contact lenses."

"I was distraught about my husband, and Ian was a trusted family friend. You don't automatically assume identity theft if there are only minutely minor things that don't add up-"

"What about when you later began dating him? When you brought him into the family home to live with you. Are you to tell me you weren't then well acquainted enough to know he was not the same man who had shared past memories with your family? Did your relationship not begin with talk of your daughter being under his care and your past friendship?"

"H-He was always more Ethan's close friend than mine. And I didn't want to talk about the past, because the past involves Ethan. It's still painful. We spoke of Flora's progress, our work, and then... things just moved from there. I had no idea he wasn't Ian. It had been years since I'd had more than ten minute chats in person every other month or so with him about Flora. We only ever really spoke on the phone about her. Changes with Ian... they were easily overlooked."

"Already the story changes. A family friend to Ethan's friend. So you didn't really know this man, until you got to. Then suddenly he was moving in, very hastily might I add. Now if your daughter's condition was truly as serious as you've painted it out to be, trust would be a very important thing to her. How did Flora feel with you inviting not only her therapist to live with you, but a not-family-friend? There was no foundation of trust prior to his medical care over her, he was simply a friend of a father. One of which you claim to not even know wore contacts and hair dye."

"I-"

"This begs the question, Mrs Montgomery, that if you care for your daughter like you say you do and you were comfortable enough to bring this man into your home as a permanent fixture, is Flora's mental health as serious as you had so claimed? Because you love her. You love her more than life, as any parent loves their child, do you not?"

"Of course I love my daughter." Snapped my mother, flushed in the face. My stomach was sinking. This didn't feel like it was going according to plan.

"Well, Mrs Montgomery, you can only have one. Your story about how severe Flora's phobia is, or your love, because if her condition was so serious you simply couldn't have invited this unknown man into your house knowing it could be detrimental to her health."

"Everybody makes mistakes. I selfishly put my romantic life first for the first time in- for the first time, period. I didn't think it would be so bad at the time, as Ian Greene wasn't a complete stranger. I thought it would be easier. It was the worst mistake of my life and I can't take it back, but don't for a second think this means Flora's phobia wasn't serious. Although she's doing much better now, it still is serious. I thought that having a therapist under our roof would also be an asset. A poor choice by me. A lesson learnt. I don't know what else I can possibly say to take back the awful choice I made, but what matters most is that I have the forgiveness of my daughter, which I do. Flora's phobia was severe, and it changed her life for the worse no thanks to your disgusting client."

"Well I'd like to point out that not once has Flora seen a qualified therapist to even be diagnosed with Haphephobia. Maybe, just as family friend has switched to Ethan's friend, Flora's condition will switch from medical to simply nervous. There is no evidence to suggest that my client gave Flora Montgomery this alleged phobia. Instead, in his fragmented state of mine, it is clear he tried to help her by giving her a diagnosis to cling to for distraction after realising what he did to her in her youth was wrong."

"Help her? He did no such-"

"No further questions your honour."

Questioning was brutal, and it took what felt like all day until it was finally at its end. As soon as we'd left my mother couldn't stop apologising. I'd only just managed to get her to stop, but now after rehashing the event with Edmond's attorney picking apart her certainty it was clear I was about to go through it all again.

"I'm just so sorry, sweetheart. I can't believe I let that man into our house, and now I might have made our entire case fall apart-"

"Mum," I interrupted. "Calm down. What's done is done. You know I've forgiven you. Now let's keep our hopes up and not think the worst."

"I-" She took a deep breath, seemed to collect herself and become self-aware of the unwarranted hysteria, and nodded her head resolutely. "You're right. Of course you are. Now let's go see Parker."

"Parker? But I told him to focus on his own-"

She gave me a look. "Do you honestly not expect him to be waiting outside for you?"

"But I said-"

"Sweetheart," She chuckled. "When does it ever matter what you say to that boy? If he knows you need him there, he'll be there. I have no doubt about it."

My mother hadn't been wrong. Even without her words deep down I would have half expected him to be there, too, skulking in the shadows somewhere. How Parker processed things was different to other people. Take, for example, my NO, DO NOT DO THATs going through as YES PLEASE, GO ONs. Not that I could really fault him for it when that very reason was how he came to be what he was to my life today: an integral part of it.