As we entered the courtroom for his sentencing, I was numb with fear. Nothing seemed real. I sat so still, waiting for the Judge to ask me if I had any comments before he sentenced him.
I walked slowly to the desk — three feet away from my abuser. I could feel his hatred — what he thought of as "love." He turned to stare at me as I read the statement that took me months to prepare.
How was I to get across to the Judge all of what has happened in the last seven years? How was I going to make him understand just what happened to me and to the others before me? Where was I going to get the strength?
The strength came from my family, my counselor, my lawyer and my friends from the shelter. I spoke for all of them. It came from my soul. I felt their power inside me, I felt their arms around me, I remembered the circle of love we shared after our group, so I began to read. I did not stop reading until everything was said. And when I finished I realized the courtroom that had been noisy was now still.
I realized that people had been paying attention — they had listened, they had been moved by my words. I went back to my seat. My counselor put her arms around me and we cried. We cried for all victims. I cried for my family and the pain this had caused them. And I cried for all the wasted time I had spent trying to get love from that monster.
My abuser did not go to jail, but he did get 18 months probation. I have been warned that at the end of his 18 months he will probably come after me. I know that. I expect that.
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