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***Neko's POV***

"The prosecution calls Max Wallace to the witness stand."

Max claps Milo on the shoulder as he boldly stands and passes Marla and Steve.

Max swears in and sits down. He straightens his tie and folds his hand on the edge in front of him.

"You and Milo Evans are close. Tell me about him." The prosecutor ushers.

"I met Milo when we were four. God, what a great day. I met my best friend. Milo and I clicked. He liked what I did and vice versa. We shared milks, cookies, secrets and Natalie Bennett. All through grade school, we stayed friends. I asked Mom and Dad if Milo could spend the night over. They always said yes. Once in a while his parents would come over, bringing Milo. But, he wasn't allowed to stay. When I asked why, they always had an excuse. They said things like he didn't clean his room, had unfinished homework or he had misbehaved. Even at 5, 6 and 7, I knew they were lying. Being a naive child, I figured they just liked him so much, they didn't want him to be away from them. Boy was I wrong. It started in junior high. I noticed my best friend was quieter than normal. At first, he just got quiet around strangers. Soon, he just didn't want to talk at all. He started struggling in reading, writing and any comprehensive subject. I asked him why. He said he thought he might have dyslexia. He began to skip eating in lieu of staring off into space. I didn't get it. The school food was terrifying, but we mostly ate it." Max takes a breath with a chuckle.

"Continue." The prosecutor requests as he hides his own chuckle.

"He started coming to school, fully dressed. It would be 85 degrees and he wore long pants and long sleeves. At first, I thought nothing of it. But, in gym class, we had to change in the locker rooms. I started noticing bruises. Some were old and fading. Others were painfully apparent. Cascading wounds the size and shapes of fists and boots littered my best friend's flesh. I wanted to ask, but I didn't. Then there were times when he would get excruciating headaches in class. He would lay his head down and I could hear the whimpers. Those days were hard. He refused to go to the nurse. He winced and tried to stay still instead. Many times, those headaches were accompanied by little welts or small lumps that looked as though he had hit his head on a hard surface. I asked if he was okay. But, I never pressed too hard. Milo got quieter if we pressed. I didn't want to lose my best friend. His weight started declining. His clothes fit more loosely. I started noticing that he had rather worn clothes. I figured maybe his parents weren't as well off as my family. I didn't want Milo to feel out of place, so I didn't comment. But, then Neko went to Hawaii. Milo would come to school depressed. His head hurt more often, bags were a common feature under his eyes. He looked tired and not just from exhaustion. He looked like he had given up on life. Neko would show up and my Bean would come back to me. For days at a time, he was floating on clouds. He started carrying his stuff to school and asking me to hide it from his parents. I did question him then. He admitted that Marla and Steve said he didn't deserve nice things. That he didn't deserve to breathe. That his sister should be here and he should have died that night. Can you imagine, telling a child that you chose to be your kid, he isn't as valuable as the one that passed away? It gradually got worse until the days in between fresh marks were less. The days he was depressed were more often. I started asking questions, a lot of them. Milo either denied, made excuses or got extremely defensive. In the end I tried not push his buttons. He was being terrorized at home. I didn't want him to feel unsafe at school." Max takes a sip of water and inhales deeply.

"Lux and Natalie stated that you got upset with Milo the days proceeding the sleepover. Tell us what went on in your mind." The prosecutor instructs.

"After an amazing weekend, where Bean finally let his secret out of the bag, I was pissed. I had seen a very large knot on the back of his head. Coupled with the hand print on his face, the shoe print on his hand, the strangulation mark and the other bruises Milo thought he hid, I was fed up. When lunch came around, that Monday, I lost my cool. I urged Milo to please turn his parents in. I begged him to stop them and told him he could come live with me. I got loud, people noticed. I regrettably offended and embarrassed Milo. I just couldn't take it anymore. How would you feel watching your best friend suffering and keeping your friggin mouth shut all the time? I was done. If I had known that my tiny snowball would produce an avalanche, I probably would have handled it better." Max looks as if he had a ten thousand pound boulder resting on his shoulders.

"At the hospital, what did you witness?" The prosecutor asks, again.

"I witnessed my best friend on a ventilator. I watched as his body threatened to succumb to his injuries. I sat back and prayed to every God in existence that my best friend didn't die at the hands of his parents. It's fucked up. The whole situation. They beat him within an inch of his life. He spent months healing. Physical therapy, educational therapy and emotional therapy became Milo's norm. Neko had to shower with him, carry him around everywhere. We had to watch Milo struggle with eating. His hand was mangled, his leg was shattered. At one point, his jaw was wired shut. For what, because he dared to exist. It was difficult. Watching someone you love fight for their life, it's not easy. I was only a spectator. Thank God for Neko. Without him, my Bean wouldn't even be here today. We would be at a murder trial." Max expelled a large breath that didn't look the least bit relieving.

"Thank you Max. No further questions." The prosecutor comes back to sit in front of us.

"So, Max. You all would have us believe that a perfect child was subjected to alleged torture because his sister died. Do I have that correct?" The defense attorney clasps his hands in front of his large belly.

"Yep." Max pops the p loudly.

"Does that make sense to you?" The defense attorney cocks a brow at Max, probably thinking he stumped the intelligent boy.

"Absolutely not. That's not the question here. Who cares what excuse you have to destroy a child? He could have been a pure demon. That doesn't give anyone the right to berate him. That doesn't make it okay that they stripped Milo of his voice. There isn't an excuse in the book that justifies strangling your own child, punching him in his back or kicking him in his fucking jaw. Your question is as bogus as their parenting skills." Max gets angry and I watch his lips move while he counts to steady himself silently.

"Do you need a break Max?" The judge softly offers.

"Absolutely not. Let's get this over with. Being in the same room as those two maggots is turning my stomach." Max hisses his words.

"One last question, Max." The attorney asks.

"Yeah, go on." Max waves his hand dismissively.

"Do you agree with Milo being in a sexual relationship with his brother?" The courtroom audibly hisses at the stunt the defense attorney pulls.

"Objection." The prosecutor stands and slams his hands down on the table in front of him.

"The Jury can disregard the line of questioning.   Max you don't have to answer that. You may step down." The judge dismisses Max.

"No, sir your honor. The man wants an answer. Well, I have one. Do I agree with my best friend being in love with the one man that stood by him through all these years? Do I agree with Milo falling for the guy who held all his shattered pieces with kid gloves? Do I approve of my best friend being engaged to the man who bathed him, held him, worshipped him, stitched his tattered heart and nursed his extremely fragile self esteem? Do I approve of Neko spending the rest of his life cherishing the kid that his parents did not feel compelled to treat with the decency of a dog? Hell, yes I do. I will dance at their wedding. I will babysit their children. I proudly stand beside my best friends as they find a way to create beauty from the ashes. One good thing came from Marla and Steve, that was Neko Evans. So fuck you and your pompous, self righteous bullshit. I dismiss myself." Max saunters off the stand and it takes everything in me not to charge the poor kid and cover him in kisses.

"Your witness." The defense attorney relents.

We sit through school counselors, the principal. The Bennett's and Wallace's take the stand. Each one adds tiny details that I had no idea existed. The testimony is difficult to hear and I imagine that Milo probably feels more than overwhelmed. At one point, Milo asks for a break and takes his Trazadone. The judge smiled knowingly and gladly accepted a breather from the heavy subject matter.

We grabbed lunch from the cafe while we waited for the next round of witnesses.

"Before our final witness, I would like to take this time to enter all evidence for the jury to dissect." The prosecutor starts a slide show that makes me want to violently expel my lunch.

Picture upon picture of every single injury from that fateful day show up on a huge screen. My eyes scan the entire courtroom. I seriously have the hand of God upon me as I watch Marla grin wickedly at Milo's bruised and broken body.

They showed shots of the crime scene. Nail marks where Milo was dragged across the living room hardwood floors. There was blood pooled and smeared from the spot he lost consciousness at during and after the assault. Footprints of blood lead out of the door from where Marla and Steve fled the scene.

Photos had been taken as the police sat on the floor and talked my Koala thru the last few minutes before the ambulance arrived.

Ms. Bennett let out a peal of tears when a picture displayed a bloody bat and lamp. Milo's body laid to the side as if he was deceased.

They showed the X-Rays. Broken ribs were clearly indicated by the cracks on the bones that laid too close to vital organs. The rod in Milo's leg was shown in the post operation X-Ray. Every single break was evident. The rod was shown screwed into the major bones of Milo's left leg. The MRI showed torn and bruised muscles. The CAT scan clearly marked the head trauma. It displayed the swelling and bleeding that had threatened to claim the life of the man I lived and breathed for.

It was disgusting, horrific, brutal and demonic. Wes Craven could not have set up a more disturbing scene.

Milo choked on sobs when he saw the pictures. His heart battered against his rib cage and I could feel it against my chest while he laid in my arms.

It was all too much. How he survived, will always be a mystery to me.

The most incriminating physical evidence was the security footage from the jailhouse. The guard could be seen ripping an angry and vile Marla out of her chair after she bragged about inflicting physical pain on my baby.

The judge requested the projector to be turned off when one juror ran from the room holding her hand over her mouth.

We waited patiently while the distraught spectators calmed down. The judge left momentarily and came back reeking of cigarettes.

Me too my Man, me too.

"The prosecution calls Milo Evans as our final witness."