Grim Justice
“Offenders beware... You can slip through the law, but you can't escape Grim Justice. We take payment in blood.”
Chapter One
Justice Deferred
The courtroom buzzed with whispered conversations; tension thick enough to choke on. Catarina Westcott sat rigid, her hands clenched in her lap. Across the aisle, Ernest Neal lounged in his seat, calm and detached—except for one glaring detail: his big silver ring was missing.
“All rise,” the bailiff called, his voice echoing off wooden panels.
Judge Harris entered, his stern gaze silencing the room. As proceedings began, Catarina’s mind raced back to that night. She’d been unlocking her door when a presence loomed behind her. A hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her inside. The courtyard lights had illuminated her attacker’s face just before he threw her to the floor.
Now, facing him in court, she felt sick.
Prosecutor James Thornton stood. “Your Honor, the prosecution calls Catarina Westcott to the stand.”
Catarina rose, her legs trembling as she approached the witness box. After swearing to tell the truth, she recounted the attack—the struggle, the knife at her throat, the terror of believing she’d die. Her voice cracked but remained steady.
Defense attorney Richard Blake leaned in during cross-examination. “Ms. Westcott, how can you be certain it was my client? It was dark, wasn’t it?”
“The courtyard lights—” she started, but Blake cut her off.
“And isn’t it possible trauma distorted your memory?”
Catarina gripped the railing, fury bubbling beneath her skin. “I know what I saw.”
When the jury returned with a verdict—“Not guilty”—Catarina’s world shattered. As Ernest smirked, mouthing a silent ‘fuck you,’ she vowed silently: This isn’t over.