"I now call to the stand Penelope Marks."
Penelope walked up to the stand, wobbly and nervous, just as she had been before. The entire time, she had been sitting on the edge of her seat, wondering what the Jury was thinking. The whole thing was a circus at this point, and in Penelope's eyes, Mary had somehow become the ringleader. She didn't see a woman who was going to lose. She saw a woman who was going to win. Mary always won. It didn't matter what she said or did. The evidence didn't matter, none of it. By the time Ms. Thompson had taken the stand, Penelope had gone completely numb, tuning the proceedings out as she disassociated herself from the world.
Now, though, she was back in reality and it was time to tell her truth once again.
"Ms. Marks, earlier on the stand, you were asked how many times you were punished for things you allegedly did to Mary Marks' boys. Can you please clarify your response?"
Penelope swallowed. "What I was trying to say," She said in a shaky voice, as if she was going to be shut down again. She took a deep breath and started again. "I never touched any of my step-brothers inappropriately. But I was always punished. It didn't matter if I had done anything wrong or not. If the boys did something, I was blamed. I was punished. If I was told to clean and there was so much as a smudge- even if it wasn't in an area I was told to clean- I was punished. Nothing I ever did in that house ever came without a punishment."
"Is that what happened with the urn?"
"Yes."
"What happened that day, Penelope?"
"That day, I was dusting the mantal. I was taking things down and putting them on the coffee table so that I could clean up there. And then I was going to wipe everything down and put it back. I was reaching up to grab the urn when Greg suddenly came up and pushed me. I stumbled and hit the urn as it fell to the floor and broke. I didn't even have time to react before Greg was yelling for Mary, telling her that I had just thrown it to the floor."
"And how did Mary react?"
"She was furious, as she always is. I tried to tell her that Greg had pushed me, but of course, she didn't listen. She smacked me. I can't tell you how many times she smacked me. There was a large chunk of the urn that was still intact. She threw it at me. I have a large scar on my right leg from it."
"Would you be willing to show the jury your scar?"
Penelope nodded. She stepped off the stand, and carefully lifted her skirt to expose a long scar that was embedded into the side of her right thigh. The judge took a look at it before she walked towards the jury and showed it to them as well. When instructed to take her seat, she did so.
"Thank you for clarifying that, Penelope. What other punishments did Mary use?"
"She yelled at me a lot. Or she slapped me. Or grabbed my hair. She always made me do chores. When I wasn't doing chores, I was restricted to my room. I wasn't allowed to have friends. I wasn't allowed to interact with the rest of the family. When I was old enough to get a job, it became my sanctuary, even though she took all the money I had ever earned. I wasn't allowed to spend any of it on myself. She cut my hair with scissors, and made it so unevenly short that it stuck out in a bunch of directions. And she made me wear baggy clothes from the thrift store. Made my father think that it was what I wanted, and that I was doing it all for attention. The kids at school called me fat and nicknamed me 'Butch.' Because of my haircut."
"But your hair is long now. You've got it up in a pretty bun. Is that not your natural hair?"
Penelope shook her head. "No. Its not. It was styled by my new friend, Jezz. Shes sitting over there." Penelope said, pointing Jezz out in one of the courtroom benches. "This-" She said, gripping the front of what was actually a wig and pulling it off her head "is my natural hair." She shook her head, revealing her natural hair. Jezz had removed her extensions the day before and supplied her with the wig. It was now the end of summer, and had been a few months since they had initially been put in. Her hair was growing out more naturally, but was still too short to be evened out without Penelope looking like a boy. The jury gasped, and Penelope set the wig down in front of her. She could feel her emotions stirring. She wanted so badly to cry, but she looked back up, refusing to let go. She had to stay strong.
"So Mary Marks not only ridiculed you at home, but she also set you up to be ridiculed at school?" The lawyer asked.
"She did. For years, I have felt like there is nowhere that I belonged. Not at home, not at school. My only safe-haven was Sub Haven, which is where I work."
"That was your only safe place?"
"It was, so long as nobody I knew didn't show up there." Penelope confirmed.
"Tell me about your relationship with your step-brothers. You said they would do things to blame you?"
"Yes. They were both like Mary's little minions. They both hated me, and would use me to get things that they wanted."
"Like what?"
"Like my panties." Penelope said, gesturing to the panties that were still laid out on the evidence table.
"Gregory would corner me in the hall whenever nobody else was around. He'd grope me while calling me 'Loosie Goosie' and would blackmale me into giving him my panties. That is why his semen is all over them. Its all his." She said, her face turning slightly green as she felt nauseated at the thought. "Sometimes, he would slap me on the butt after I forked them over. Other times, he would pin me to the wall, inch up to my face, and sniff them before calling me a slut or a whore, threatening me to stay quiet, and walking away.
"The last pair that he took…" Penelope stopped, unable to hold her tears any longer. "Was the pair that I had changed out of the night that Mary last hurt me. It came with a warning to shut up."
"So, even after you were removed from the Marks home, you had to endure? Penelope, I am so sorry. I hate to jump back, but we need to in order to understand everything. Can you tell us what happened the night you received your injury?"
Penelope nodded, recollecting everything that had happened that night. The two pages of chores, how everyone had gone to the Filmore gathering and had left her there to clean the entire house from top to bottom. How she had taken a shower and forgotten to hide her towel. How Mary had ripped her out of bed and then slammed her into it. How she had been in and out of consciousness that night, and how she had collapsed at work the next day.
"I wasn't even allowed to take a fucking shower in that home!" Penelope finally broke down.
"Languge, Ms. Marks." The judge warned.
"I'm sorry, Your Honor. I just- I can't do this anymore. I know I need to be brave and talk about all these things that she did to me. But I've listened to her lies. The same ones shes told since the moment I met her. There is a reason why I call Mary The Witch in my head. Its because she is one. I know that everything she has done has been to paint me as the bad guy when reality, its been her the entire time. Everybody always believes her. Especially when it matters the most. That woman over there-" Penelope said, pointing directly to Mary. "She took what should have been the best days of my adolescence and turned them into a hell that nobody else in this room could even imagine. I know that nothing I am going to say is going to change it. I always worked hard so that when I graduate high school I could get a scholarship and get out of there. But the truth of the matter is that I would rather die than spend another day in that woman's clutches." Penelope's tears fell down her face, dripped down the table, onto her hands, into her lap.
They continued to fall as she was consumed by her anxiety, her grief, her pain, her anger. The judge and the jury all stared at her as she lost herself.
"I rest my case, Your Honor."
The judge called for another recess while the Filmore lawyer escorted Penelope off the bench. Derek, who had also been sitting back watching the proceedings came up and hugged Penelope, along with Jezz, Lilly, Kent, and Dan. They were all there to show her support, to show her that she was alone. Each of them all talked to her in hushed whispers, telling her how brave she was and that this was almost over.