Mistrust

by Margaret McHeyzer

  Today is Sunday, and tomorrow is my next appointment with Tara. She pushed me on Friday. She made me look at the severity of the situation, and dragged parts of me out that I had managed to bury deep. It feels as if I’ve run a marathon with no training. My body is aching, it’s sore and it holds so much tension.

  We went back to the doctor’s office late yesterday, and he confirmed I wasn’t pregnant. I breathed a big sigh of relief. Now begins the long, drawn-out, and incredibly painful process of waiting to find out if my HIV tests come back negative.

  “Sweetheart, you need to get out of bed and eat something,” Mom says gently as she sits on the edge of my bed and rubs circles on my back.

  “I’m not hungry,” I reply, my back to her as I stare at the blank, pale yellow wall.

  She sighs, and I can tell she’s frustrated with me. Truthfully, I’m frustrated with me. I simply can’t help it. Something inside of me is broken. It’s collapsed the carefully built wall that kept me from having to face things, and now I can’t seem to rebuild it.

  “I don’t care,” her tone changes into something more assertive. “You’re going to get up and come out to the kitchen where I’ll make you an omelet. Then you’re going to call Sophie and have her come over so you can talk with her. She’s been calling every day, and she sounds worried. Have you talked to her?”

  “I sent her a text and told her I was okay.”

  “But you’re not okay, Dakota. You’re far from it. It’s going to be hard to overcome this, and it’s something you’re never going to forget. But we’re here for you, all of us. Reece called this morning and asked if he can come and see you because he said you’re brushing him off. Sophie’s worried. We’re all worried. Right now, this is the eye of the storm and it may last another year before you can feel the sunlight. Don’t shut everyone out, sweetheart, because we need you as much as you need us.” Mom stops rubbing my back, leans over and kisses my forehead, then leaves me to my own thoughts.

  I wipe the tears away, and swallow down the lump that’s been sitting in my throat for the last few days. Right now, it all feels so hopeless. I feel worthless, as if I don’t belong. Not because of the people around me, but because he’s made me feel this way. Whoever he is. Does he even think about the devastation he’s caused me? I doubt it.

  I throw back my covers, and force myself out of bed. I don’t even look at my reflection because I know I won’t like what I see. Walking over to my bedroom window, I roll the blinds up and let the sun filter into my room. I can’t continue to live in darkness, even though that’s exactly what I want to do.

  Opening my door, I head out to the kitchen where the delicious aroma of fresh cooked eggs fills the entire room. Sitting down at the breakfast bar, I lean my elbows on the counter and watch Mom flutter around the kitchen. She hasn’t realized I’m here yet, and she’s quietly humming a sad tune to herself.

  Sam comes in, sees me and a big smile spreads across her face. She sits beside me and looks at me. “I’m happy to have you back,” she says.

  Mom startles and turns around with the spatula in her hands. She looks at me, then at Sam and smiles. She doesn’t need to say anything. Seeing us together makes her proud. It’s obvious by the way she pulls her shoulders back and continues cooking. “I’m making omelets,” she announces and turns back to continue.

  Sam leans in and throws her arms around me. She embraces me tightly. She sniffs and declares, “You need a shower.”

  I push her away, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “You did not just say that.”

  “Hey, you’re a little heavy on the nose. Seriously, I’d suggest a shower.” She waves her hand in front of her nose dramatizing my odor, but she’s smiling at the same time.

  “Alright, smart-ass, I’ll go after I have something to eat.”

  “Phew, save us all having to follow you around with perfume.” She giggles to herself.

  Mom chuckles quietly from where she’s standing in front of the oven. “Hey, not you too,” I say to Mom.

  She throws her hands up and chuckles again. “What can I say, your sister has a point, you’re a bit wafty.” She too fans her nose with her hand.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll get in the shower after my omelet. I’m thinking, I might ask Reece and Sophie to come over today, if that’s okay?”

  “If what’s okay?” Dad comes in carrying his tablet.

  “For me to ask Reece and Sophie to come over.”

  “Can I ask Taylor?” Sam asks.

  “Yes to both of you,” Dad answers as he sits on the other side of Sam. He leans in, gives her a kiss then picks his tablet up.

  When we finish eating, Sam helps Mom in the kitchen and I go into my room to call Sophie. “Hi, how are you?” she asks.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “How are your parents? Are they okay?”

  “Yeah. I started counseling and it’s really knocked me around. I had my first session on Friday. It’s just hard, you know?”

  “You’re lucky, Dakota, your parents support you,” she says wistfully.

  “I know your mom would too if you told her.”

  “Too late for that now. It’s been over a year, I’ve learnt to deal with it.”

  “Like I was dealing with it? Just push it down and hope it never surfaces again?”

  “Yes,” she agrees with me. “As far down as I can push it.”

  Man, I feel sorry for Sophie. She hasn’t told anyone, except for me. I know how hard it is to open up. And although I feel like death now, I’m still grateful Mom and Dad know. “Hey, want to come over today? We only have a week of vacation left before we head back to school. And before we know it it’ll be fall and we won’t be able to use the pool.”

  “Oh man, I really want to say yes, but Mom needs some help around here today. She’s been at work since five this morning, so I want to clean up, and put on a nice dinner for her, you know? It’s the least I can do considering she works so hard.”

  “Hey, yeah, I get it. Okay, well how about later this week?”

  “Yeah, I’ll ask Mom what day she can bring me over.”

  “Cool, let me know. I’m gonna call Reece and see if he wants to come over.”

  “Okay, have fun,” she happily chirps.

  “See ya.” I dial Reece’s number and he answers the phone yelling at Luke. “Dakota, I’m so glad you called,” he huffs. “I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve been trying to get my head around everything, you know?”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. I’ve been tempted to come over every day since your dad kicked us out. Even drove past a few times hoping you would be out front.” Aw. “I’m really worried about you,” he whispers into the phone, and it melts my heart.

  “Do you want to come over today?”

  I don’t even finish the sentence before he replies, “Yes! Can I come now?”

  “Give me half an hour, I still have to have a shower and stuff.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in half an hour.” I smile because he sounds so enthusiastic. “Dakota?” he calls before we hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve missed you.” He hangs up quickly, not letting me respond. I’m not even sure now if that’s what he said. He spoke so fast that I could be mistaking it for something else.

  I put my phone down, and head into the shower.

  I’m sitting out in the back garden, soaking up some sun. Reece hasn’t come yet, but that’s okay. It gives me a minute to appreciate the glory of the sun’s warm rays, beaming down on me. Taylor and Sam are inside watching a movie with Mom and Dad while I sit out here, enjoying the solitude.

  The shower certainly helped, because it lifted my mood from deep and wounded to a realization that I’m going to be okay.

  “Hi there, beautiful,” Reece says as he comes into the backyard from inside the house.

  I turn to see him walking toward me in jeans and a t-shirt. His broad shoulders stretch the t-s
hirt, and make him look as if he’s only gotten back from bench pressing at the gym. My eyes take him in, and I can’t help but think how beautiful he actually is.

  “Hi,” I say about to stand to greet him.

  “Don’t get up. I’ll come to you.” He leans down and kisses my forehead then sits on the lounge beside me. “How have you been?” he casually asks.

  “I’m okay. The counseling session really kicked me in the ass. Ever heard the saying, feeling like you’ve been put through the emotional wringer?” He nods. “That’s how I’ve been feeling.”

  “It’s got to be tough having to face it all again.”

  “You have no idea, Reece. But I can’t help but wonder how he does it. Whoever did this to me did it without a conscience. I mean, how can he live with himself? I’m struggling, really I am. Most of the time I feel ashamed and humiliated, then other times I feel worthless. Like I wasn’t even worth asking permission to have sex with me. And then there are times I start thinking ‘how dare he?.’ How dare he do this to me and not give a shit about how I’m affected! He’s ruined my life, ruined me, and he gets away with it? That’s not fair. He shouldn’t be able to do this and walk away with no repercussions.”

  “You’re right. And clearly he’s not a man, not even an animal. He’s a predator.”

  “I’m really nervous about going to school next week and having to face everyone. I’m not sure I can handle the whispers or the stares or even the shaming they’re going to put me through.”

  “Why would they shame you?”

  I flick Reece a look of disbelief, my brows scrunched together as I shake my head. “You can’t be serious. Everyone will have seen the pictures from that group. He’s not only humiliated me by doing what he did, he’s continuing to embarrass me by posting photos of me everywhere on social media. How degrading for my Dad to have a co-worker approach him and say his son has been added to a group that’s showing explicit pictures of me.”

  “Who’s the admin of the group?”

  “Apparently someone who has no profile information.”

  “How were they not taken down? There are rules and administrators who looks after these sorts of things on social media. I posted a picture last year of me flipping someone the bird and it got reported as soon I posted it. So how is it possible this group hasn’t been reported or taken down?”

  “I don’t know if it has, and I don’t want to look. But Dad’s co-worker said he went online and took screen shots to show Dad. He also said there were hundreds of members added by the admin.

  “The point is, he ruined me, Reece. He took something which wasn’t offered to him. Even now I have to wait for six months to find out if I’ll have a life sentence with a disease I’ll never be able to get rid of. Not only that, he continues to make my world crumble by uploading photos he took. I’m tired, Reece. Tired of hiding, but also tired of having to face the rumors, the stares, and whatever else is going to happen when we get back to school.”

  Reece huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

  “It’s a rollercoaster. One moment I think I’m going to be okay, then something pushes me back into isolation and and makes me want to hide myself away from everyone. The next minute I’m okay again. I’m so grateful for my family, and you, and Sophie. Without you guys I don’t know where I’d be.”

  “Can I hold you, Dakota?” he asks shyly. It’s the first time I’ve seen him hesitant. I nod and sit up on the lounger. He moves and sits beside me, then brings me in nice and close to him. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. But you’ve got me to help you through it. You can always count on me. All you need to do is call me and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

  “Thank you.” I close my eyes and get lost in his comfort. “For now, all I need is for you to hold me.”

  “I’m never letting you go.” He tightens his arms around me. I feel his warmth, and how protective he is of me. I love the feel of his arms around me. It’s comforting and soothing.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Who do you want for math this year?” he asks after a few minutes.

  “I can tell you who I don’t want—Mr. C. He gives me the creeps, just the way he pops up all the time and watches us. There’s something so wrong about him. The night of the prom, when I started feeling light-headed, I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face and as soon as I came out he was there waiting for me. It’s almost like he knew what was happening to me.”

  “You’ve never liked him. Do you think it could be him?”

  “At this stage, I have no idea who it is. It could be him, I mean he’s in the perfect position to do something like that. He’s always around, and he’s got beady eyes that look at everyone. It feels like he’s always checking me out.”

  “Have you told anyone how he makes you feel or that it could be him who drugged you?”

  Crap, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about the police, Reece included. “I told my parents,” I lie. I need to protect myself and I also need to protect the work the police are doing. If Mr. C did do this to me, and they have a lead, and if he gets wind of it, he may disappear and he’ll never be caught. I just have to pretend like everything is normal.

  “As long as someone knows, maybe they can do something with that information. Please do me a favor. Whatever you remember just promise me you’ll tell someone. Even if it’s only me.”

  “I promise. But nothing more is coming to me. I’ve had a few dreams, but nothing new.”

  His arms around me reassure me and tell me how everything will be okay. It’s not the words he speaks, but his actions that give me comfort. My life feels different . . . fuller, enriched from the moment we took our friendship to something deeper.

  “Dakota, Tracey called and she and Andrea are on their way over,” Mom says.

  It’s Wednesday afternoon, only a few days before school starts again. I’ve been having intense counseling sessions with Tara and they seem just as difficult as when we started. The only difference is I don’t feel quite as overwhelmed and hopeless when I leave her office. I have another session with her later today. Friday was difficult. It hit me hard and had me questioning everything about myself, but more specifically everything I believed about the world.

  I’ve lost faith in my self-worth and my ability to judge people. If someone I know can slip something in my drink, in a public place, use me so badly—and get away with it—then what chance do I have? David versus Goliath. More like an ant versus the universe.

  Mom announces that the detectives are on their way and it causes a negative reaction within me. A huge part of me doesn’t want to know what they have to say. I’m anticipating them saying something like, ‘Sorry, Dakota. We’ve done all we can, and we’re closing the case.’ That would be the worst possible scenario. But with the statistics I’ve been researching, it’s also the most likely. If that does happen, what was the point of me stepping up and telling the world what happened to me? No good would come of it, only pain and heartache for all involved.

  Of course, the best possible outcome would be for them to tell me they know who sexually assaulted me and they’ve arrested him. They may ask me to testify when it goes to trial.

  But that brings another deluge of emotions. Great, they caught him . . . shit, I have to testify and relive the whole ordeal. Not only relive it, but tell twelve strangers what he did to me, dredge up a painful and humiliating event all so they can decide what will happen to him.

  Then there’s the other worst possible scenario. Me going through an emotional trial, losing days or maybe even weeks of school, of my life, because he’s screwed me so badly on an emotional level that I’ll have no choice but to hide at home in humiliation and hope the world swallows me whole.

  “Oh God,” I whisper to Mom.

  We’re in the kitchen, staring blankly at each other, anticipating the arrival of the police officers. At every sound, we look toward the door. Everyth
ing in my body is wound tight, and it’s hard to keep from breaking down, falling apart and losing hope.

  “They’re here,” Dad says coming into the kitchen.

  “No matter what they say, stay strong. We’re here for you. You know that, right?” Mom affirms, gripping my hands in hers. I nod. I can’t say anything because I’ve lost the ability to comprehend and reply.

  Anxiety is ripping through me. It has put its tap shoes on and is dancing all over my heart. My muscles tense, all of them bunching around my shoulders and the back of my neck. A splitting pain relentlessly stabs at the base of my head.

  “Sweetheart,” Dad says dropping his arm around my shoulders and looks at me with a kind smile.

  I turn to him, tears a threatening to spill. But I work my ass off to keep them at bay. I will not crack, I will not crack, I. Will. Not. Crack.

  There’s a knock on the door. I look at Mom, whose own demons are just barely controlled. Dad’s jaw is tight and his eyes are hard as steel. He lets go of me and walks over to open the door.

  Be brave, Dakota.

  “Detective Young, Detective Miller,” he greets them as they come into the house.

  “Tracey and Andrea will do,” Tracey says, smiling at Dad.

  She comes further into the house and her eyes land on mine. It’s true what they say. Police have a certain way about them. Their eyes are suspicious of everything around them. Andrea gives me a warm smile, but I notice exactly how watchful her eyes are too.

  “How are you, Dakota?” Andrea asks as she makes her way over to me.

  I weakly smile, because at this moment I can barely think let alone speak.

  Be brave, I repeat to myself.

  “We’re doing okay,” Mom thankfully answers for me while her hands rest on my shoulders.

  “May we have a seat?” Tracey asks.

  You can do this, Dakota. No matter what the result is, I have to be strong. I have to accept whatever they’re going to say. I have to push hard and deal with it.

  “Please do,” Dad says and sits opposite Tracey and Andrea. “Dakota,” he calls and indicates for me to sit beside him.