I was hyperventilating. While gasping for breath and raising my hands above my head, Noah was frantically pacing, knowing there was nothing he could do for me. My lawyer stood beside me dressed in a blue suit, briefcase in his hands, appearing confident and poised. I wished I could be more like him.

Today was the day I would be forced to face my mother for the first time in almost eight months. I would be asked to testify against her and would likely be the deciding factor on how long she went to jail. That is if she went at all.

It had been a long battle of hearings and court time. This would be the final trial. There was no telling how long the process would be, but it was an estimated three days of this torture. Noah, Joseph, and Isaiah had the week off of school and would be there for me for support. The rest of the Winters, including Jenna, were here too. I was more than a little worried they'd not want anything to do with me after hearing everything the defendant had to say.

"Love," Mrs. Winters consoled. "Most everyone in there is on your side. You have nothing to worry about. You only need to talk if you think you can. Otherwise, they've set up a screen and you could type your response if need be. We love you. We know you can do this. This will make you one step closer to being free from your pain." Mrs. Winters always knew what to say to calm me down and I breathed easier with her words.

After I had calmed down a little, I was led into the courtroom behind my lawyer. The Winters had taken a seat behind my table on the right-hand side of the judge. My new family looked amazing, each boy in a nice suit and Mrs. Winters and Jenna wore a dress.

I couldn't help but notice that Noah looked rough. I still thought he was heartbreakingly handsome in his suit, but the dark circles under his eyes almost made him look sick. I had nightmares every night and they seemed to be taking more of a toll on him than me. I tried to hide when I had them, I truly did, but Noah always knew and knocked on my door in the middle of the night to attempt and make me feel better.

"Okay, Eden," Mr. Franklin, my lawyer, prepped, "this will likely be very hard for you, but I have full faith that you can get through it. You have most everyone in this room on your side and we have evidence that will help us prove this. Just answer your questions honestly, and let me take care of the rest."

❃❃❃

When my mother walked in, I almost fainted. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit and her blonde hair was grown out and frizzy. She had a crazed look in her eyes and her face looked worn down.

When she looked into my eyes, her lips molded into an ugly sneer and she winked at me. I could feel my breath speeding up and the darkness creeping in, telling me I was going to pass out if I didn't look away quickly. I turned around to my new family, all looking back with kind eyes. Instantly, the dark fog cleared and I felt like I'd be able to get through anything with their support. Once my mother was seated, we sat patiently, awaiting the arrival of a judge.

A large man in a suit was standing next to a door. When he said, "All rise. The one-two-four Court of Michigan under Judge Hausman is now in session," we stood up and watched an older woman walk in. My knees knocked together under my dress. Judge Hausman was clothed in a long black robe, her face severe with downturned eyebrows and lips.

"Thank you, you may be seated. The court is now in session." Judge Hausman's voice filled the courtroom with a strict edge to it. "We call case number Twenty-four-hundred-six-hundred-and-seventy-three, the State of Michigan vs. Shanie Morrison. This is a criminal case brought by the State of Michigan charging the defendant, Shanie Morrison, with first-degree child abuse. The defendant admits that she hit Eden Morrison, but was only disciplining the child. Is the prosecution ready?"

Mr. Franklin stood up tall and clearly stated, "Yes, your honor."

"Is the defense ready?"

The attorney representing my mother stood up and mirrored my lawyer's words. "Alright," the judge seemed uninterested, "We will now hear opening statements from the prosecution."

"Thank you, your honor. My name is Ronel Franklin and I am representing Eden Morrison and the State of Michigan. Today, we will discuss the allegations against Shanie Morrison in first-degree child abuse, child neglect, child endangerment, and assault on a child and public official. We have proof to back up the statements and ask for a verdict of guilty. Thank you."

"Would the defense like to give their opening now or defer until the prosecution rests their case?"

"We would like to give our opening now, your honor." My mother's attorney looked greasy and smelly. His voice sounded high pitched and he seemed to be the last person anyone would want to defend them in court. "Your honor, ladies, and gentlemen of the court, I am George Ronald and I will be representing Shanie Morrison, the defendant, in the case of the State of Michigan vs. Shanie Morrison. She is being accused of child abuse, child neglect, child endangerment, and assault on a child and police officer. She did not abuse Eden Morrison and we ask for a verdict of Not Guilty."

"Will the accused please stand?" Judge Hausman asked. My mother did. "Shanie Morrison, you are charged with four offenses. The first offense, child abuse that occurred between the dates of two-thousand-eight and two-thousand-fifteen. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, your honor," my mother said, her voice sharp and determined. She leaned over the table and grinned at me.

"Child neglect that occurred between the dates of two-thousand-eight and two-thousand-fifteen. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

"Child endangerment that occurred between the dates of two-thousand-eight and two-thousand-fifteen. How do you plead?"

"Um, not guilty." She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and she looked past all the people in her way and stared into my eyes. She winked at me as if to say she'd get me soon enough. I was frozen.

"And the assault on a public official in two-thousand-fifteen? How do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

"The accused pleads not guilty to all four counts, your honor."

There was a jury sitting in a booth in chairs on the far wall and they stared at both of us as if we were an exhibit in a zoo. The judge turned to them and addressed them after they have been sworn in.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Before beginning this trial, I am going to make a few comments about your role here today. As the judge, in this case, it is my role to interpret and judge the law. As the jury, you are the judges of the facts and it is your duty to assess the evidence that is presented by the witnesses today. There are two other principles that are important to your role as jurors. They are the presumption of innocence and the requirement of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.

"Shanie Morrison is presumed to be innocent until the prosecution has satisfied you beyond a reasonable doubt that she is guilty. The responsibility is on the prosecution to prove each element of the crime Shanie Morrison has been charged with beyond a reasonable doubt. Because of the presumption of innocence, Shanie Morrison is not required to prove she is not guilty or to explain the evidence presented by the prosecution."

I was feeling remarkably panicked. I found it hard to believe these people would believe me, over the grown woman a few chairs away from me.

"Shanie Morrison is charged with four misdemeanors. In order for you to find her guilty of child abuse, child neglect, and child endangerment under seven-hundred-fifty, one-thirty-six-b of the Criminal Code, the prosecution must prove the following elements beyond a reasonable doubt." The judge went on to describe more things that I didn't understand. My entire body was shaking and I wished to be a row back, in the arms of my family.

"I now call the prosecutor to begin their case," Judge Hausman said, leaning back in her chair.

"Your honor, it is my intention to call multiple witnesses to testify and prove that the accused, Shanie Morrison, did abuse, neglect and endanger my client between the dates of two-thousand-eight and two-thousand-fifteen and assaulted a public official in two-thousand-fifteen. When the trial is complete, I will ask that you return a verdict of guilty to the accused, Shanie Morrison on all counts."

"Very well. Is the prosecution ready to call its first witness?"

"Yes your honor, the prosecution calls Eden Morrison to the stand." I was shaking. Although it wasn't ideal for a child like me to have to testify against my mother, Mr. Franklin thought it would be best for the case. I was feeling faint. I couldn't do this. I stood up unsteadily and walked to the stand beside the judge. The big man in the suit held a bible in his hand and asked me to swear I'd tell the truth. I nodded. I didn't intend on telling any lies.

"Can you state your name, please?"

I opened my mouth in an attempt to say my name but the familiar fear gripped my vocal chords, making it impossible. I coughed and shook my head.

My mother laughed. "I forgot she can't freaking talk!" she shouted. "What a puss. You'd be surprised about how many letters and calls I've gotten from school trying to get me to make her talk! What a joke!"

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and tears filled my eyes. I was led to a booth and given a laptop. The man taught me to type my responses so that they would appear on a screen.

"Mrs. Morrison, I'm going to have to ask that you keep your mouth shut until you are asked to speak." Judge Hausman was staring at my birth mother disapprovingly. With a shake of her head, she turned back to me.

"What is your name?" the man asked me.

I breathed heavily even though I wasn't asked to speak. I typed carefully. "Eden Morrison."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven years old." I was grateful for my technology class and my ability to type quickly. I had planned to be strong enough to speak, but I was grateful that I wasn't forced to because I wasn't sure if I would have been able to force the words out.

"Where do you live?"

"The Winters' residence on Maple Street. They are my guardians."

"Have you always lived there?"

"No, I lived three blocks away with my mother and brother and sister until I was ten."

"Do you see your mother in this room?"

"Yes."

"Can you point to her, please?" I nodded and pointed at the ugly lady at the opposing table. She smiled wickedly at me, her crazed eyes and hair, making her look like a stereotypical witch.

"What about your father?"

"He left when I was three years old, sir."

"Objection!" Mother's lawyer exclaimed. "That was not her biological father."

"Your honor, that was the only father Eden knew." The judge nodded her head, waving for Mr. Franklin to continue.

"Can you state for how long you have been mute and your reason for not speaking."

"From two-thousand-and-eight. I do not talk because my mother told me not to when I was very young and would hit me if I did."

"Your honor, my first piece of evidence is a copy of a referral from Eden's kindergarten teacher meant for Shanie Morrison. I'd like to mark this as exhibit number one."

"Any objections?" Judge Hausman asked. Nobody said anything.

"Very well. Please mark this as exhibit number one." Mr. Franklin handed a copy to the judge, the accused, and put an image of the page on a projector to the left of the tables. It read:

To the parent of Eden Morrison,

I'd like to schedule a parent meeting with you to discuss your daughter. Eden is a very bright child, but will not speak in class. Even noises like coughing and sneezing, she tries to keep quiet. If you would please come in and speak with me about Eden's behavior at home, we can be one step closer to helping her be more successful in my classroom.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Kelly

"Eden, from what you remember, did your teacher try to get you to speak in class? Did she ask you questions about your home life?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever answer?"

"No, sir."

"What would happen when you disobeyed your mother?"

"She would beat me."

He asked me to describe some of the things my mother did. I typed them out slowly and carefully, the same that I did in the hospital for the detective.

"Alright, thank you. Can you describe to me how you met Mrs. Winters, Eden?"

"Mrs. Winters is my best friend, Noah's, mother. She allowed me to ride in her car to school in second grade because my mom had already left without me." I stared at the computer screen, afraid to look at my birth mother.

"Can you describe what happened the day your mother met Mrs. Winters for the first time?"

It was the first time I had looked up from my hands or the keyboard. Mrs. Winters already had tears streaming down her face. She was blotting at her face with a tissue, trying not to mess up her pretty makeup.

"Yes," I typed. "Mrs. Winters wanted to come and meet my mother so that she could introduce herself. I knew my mother would be very upset, but I didn't want Mrs. Winters to be suspicious, so I brought her to my house. I remember walking into the house and seeing my birth mother on the couch, drinking whiskey and trying to hide it when she saw Mrs. Winters. She was very hostile, but allowed me to come to visit Noah every day if I remembered my chores in order to keep Mrs. Winters from knowing I was abused."

I gulped, preparing myself for what happened next, something the Winters didn't know. "When Mrs. Winters left, I stayed outside for an hour hoping my mom would forget about me. That night, she beat me with her hand and a belt until I couldn't stay awake anymore. That was the first time she sent me to school with a bruise on my face." I looked back to the family on the bench, ashamed. I could see Noah shaking with anger. Isaiah and Ezekiel both had hands resting on his shoulders as if anchoring him, obviously angry themselves.

"What about the time Mrs. Winters called CPS on your mother? What caused you to leave?"

I sighed and prepared myself. It was still hard to talk -or write, rather- about. "I had been in trouble for something my older brother did almost two weeks before," I typed slowly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I hadn't attended school or seen the Winters and Mom found many reasons to beat and starve me."

Shuddering breaths escaped my mouth and I held in the tears as best as I could. The memories flashing through my head like lightning were terrifying. "I had received a bad burn from hot soup the night before and had become very disoriented. Mom would beat me when I didn't do my chores and I wouldn't be fed either, so I tried to clean without bringing attention to myself."

I could hear Mrs. Winters crying from her seat and tried to continue. I had to erase the words I wrote because I could not press the keys right through the buildup of tears in my eyes. "I was having a very hard time standing upright because I had not been fed in a very long time. Mother warned me that I was being too loud and I tried to be quieter, but I assume it wasn't enough. She began to choke me. I don't think she would have stopped. She threw a glass at my forehead and tried to do more. I snuck out and tried to make my way to the Winters' house."

"So you left your home to travel to the Winters' home which was three blocks away?" Mr. Franklin inquired.

"Yes, sir."

"Your honor, that leads me to my second piece of evidence. In my hands, are pictures taken of Eden the day after Mrs. Winters called Child Protective Services. They are dated June third. They are rather graphic."

"Any objections?" Nobody answered.

"Exhibit number two, pictures." Franklin pulled the pictures on the projection and a collective gasp filled the courtroom. The pictures were worse than I remember them being. My face was obviously me, I was wearing a sports bra and underwear but my body was unrecognizable. My entire body was black, blue and red. The translucent, bubbled burn on my thigh stood out amongst the dark marks on my skin. I had a bloody gash on my forehead. My ribs jutted painfully from my abdomen. I was ashamed of my ugly appearance and looked down at my clasped hands in my lap.

"Objection, he can't prove that was my clients doing." Mr. Ronald projected. The greasy man looked defeated already.

"I can prove your client confessed to beating her daughter a day later in police custody." He held up a sheet of paper, another piece of evidence, and handed it to the judge and Mr. Ronald.

"Overruled."

"My fourth piece of evidence, your honor, is the documentation of Eden's medical records in the hospital, two days after Child Protective Services was informed."

The paper was passed around the courtroom and projected on the screen. "This states that Eden, who was ten at the time, was the average size of a seven-year-old. X-rays report broken ribs that were not healed correctly. It also points to records that Eden had multiple broken bones that had not been reported in the past, a sign of neglect."

Mr. Franklin asked me all types of questions about being beaten, that I did my best to answer without breaking down, before coming to his next piece of evidence. "Eden, which room did you live in when you stayed at the Morrison household?"

"In the basement."

"My next piece of evidence comes from a police report the day Mrs. Morrison was confronted. When asked where Eden's room was, Shanie Morrison, heavily intoxicated, led two officers into this room." Franklin held up a picture of my toddler room that was missing a bed. It was stark and dusty as if nobody had bothered to enter it in many years. "After a little bit of investigating as a result of a warrant, detectives found this in the basement of the Morrison house."

He held up a picture of the basement with my training bed and a pile of t-shirts caked with blood and dirt. It was a familiar sight, my basement bedroom, but I had never allowed myself to see how dirty it truly was. There was even a distinct trail of blood from the entrance of the bathroom to the bed that I had never noticed before. I couldn't imagine going back to sleep even a minute in that tiny bed with the grimy, crimson dyed t-shirts. Although, I couldn't remember ever having a peaceful night of sleep there anyway.

"Eden, do you remember your grandmother?"

"Yes," I typed slowly, wondering where he could be going with that question.

"Do you remember the last time you saw her?"

"Yes. Mother told her she was not allowed to see me anymore after Gram asked her if I could live with her."

"My final piece of evidence is a letter written by Geneiva Rander, Eden's grandmother, a month before she passed away." Franklin handed the paper to the necessary people and projected it on the screen.