Page 346 of Wicked Brutal

Roman’s attorney is on his feet. “Objection. Speculation.”

Arthur doesn’t even fully turn around. “Her testimony will establish what Mr. O’Toole said and did in the moments immediately after.”

The judge looks at Ally, not unkindly. “You may testify to what you personally saw and heard, Ms. O’Toole.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” She looks back at Arthur, and now there’s something in her face that wasn’t there before. She’s decided something. “He turned on her. He asked her what she’d done. He asked what she’d given me. And Mom told him to leave us alone.”

The tears are streaming now, but her voice has gone strangely steady, like she’s holding it level by pure will. “And he started screaming. And then he went after her.”

“What did you see your father do?”

Ally looks at Roman. And this time — this time she doesn’t look away. Neither does he. For once, he has to sit there and take it.

“He grabbed her. She fought him. She told him he didn’t get to scare us anymore.”

I can hear Jane’s voice. Three weeks later I can still hear her screaming it into that yard. You don’t get to scare us anymore.

“He told her to shut up. And she said no.” Ally’s breath drags in wrong, catching on the way down. “She just kept saying no.”

Mom beside me is crying without any sound at all. Dad has an arm around her and his other hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, heavy and grounding, because he can feel me starting to shake apart. I’m gripping the edge of the bench hard enough that my fingers have gone white and numb.

“What happened next, Alison?”

“He grabbed her by both shoulders.” Ally’s face crumples, and her voice drops to almost nothing, and the whole room leans in to catch it. “And he threw her down.”

The courtroom disappears. I’m back there. White marble. Jane. The blood. Ally screaming a sound I will hear for the rest of my life.

“Where?”

“The stairs.” A pause. “The front steps. Marble.”

“Did she fall accidentally?”

“No—“

Roman’s attorney is rising. “Objection—“

“No.” Ally’s voice cuts clean through his, sharp enough that the whole room stops. Everyone looks at her. She’s staring at her father, and she is not going to be interrupted, not on this, not by anyone.

“He threw her.”

Arthur doesn’t speak. The judge doesn’t either. Nobody does.

Ally’s tears keep falling and her voice keeps going, low and terrible and absolutely clear. “He grabbed my mom by both shoulders, and he slammed her down onto those stairs. Her head hit the edge of the marble.” I can’t breathe. Dad’s hand tightens on the back of my neck. “And she didn’t move.”

She wipes at her face, but more tears just take the place of the ones she clears, and she stops bothering. “There was blood in her hair. It was spreading out under her head, on the white, and I got down on the ground next to her, and I called her Mom.”

Roman looks away, finally, down at the table.

“She didn’t answer me.” Ally’s eyes stay locked on the side of his face. “So I called her Mommy.”

I close my eyes. One second. That’s all I let myself have. When I open them, Ally is still there. Still in the box. Still sitting up straight and finishing it, somehow still standing even sitting down, and I think she might be the strongest person I have ever known or will ever know.

Arthur gives her all the time she needs. The room gives it to her. Then, gently, he asks the last question of the direct. “Alison. Did you see who killed your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”