"He slammed Mercer's head into the tiled wall—once, twice—until the officer collapsed, unconscious, bleeding from the temple."
The prosecutor's voice was relentless, painting the scene with brutal precision. "Then, instead of fleeing, instead of escaping, Elyas dragged Mercer into the stall. He locked the door. And he—"
The prosecutor hesitated, just for a second, as if the words physically sickened him.
"He raped him."
A gasping murmur spread through the crowd. Julie's fingers flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, but her thighs parted—just slightly—her body reacting in ways her mind couldn't comprehend.
"Not just once," the prosecutor snarled, his disgust barely contained. "He kept going. Even when Mercer started to wake up, even when he begged, Elyas didn't stop. He held him down, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other—"
