Tiffany POV
I can sense the stares directed at me, see the eyes linger as they rake their eyes over my form, taking note of how tense I am, how stiff my demeanor is. I've become a laughingstock, a battered woman, and somebody who has no spine. Even the lawyer gives me a smarmy smile as the recess is over, and once again, I am in my seat and at his mercy. I'm like a puppet being controlled, and he's the one pulling the strings.
"Miss Tiffany," he begins, as I try to draw my shoulders back and regard him steadily, instead of with the hatred I have brewing in my eyes.
"You testified that you were abused by my client, is that correct?" he asked.
I'm wary of the question, but have no choice but to answer. "Yes, that's right."
"Yet on separate occasions, at least three times according to
