Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  I opened my mouth but clamped it shut. What was I going to say? Oh, just came in to have you take a look at me, to confirm what I already know. That I’m a shell of a person, devoid of purpose and hope. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that. And I didn’t need anyone staring at me like I was some pitiable creature.

  “Where do I start?” My mom took over, not looking at me. “She won’t eat. She sleeps all the time. She’s missed over a week of school. She’s moody and unpredictable. And she’s getting in fights.”

  Dr. Sloan’s lined face crinkled even more as she surveyed me. I stared back impassively then broke away, sliding my fingers under the cuff of my sleeve to scratch my arm. Her eyes widened slightly as I revealed several mottled bruises. I tucked my arms to my sides and drew them into myself, glancing at my mom and bracing for the inevitable demand.

  “Let’s have you put this on.” She pulled a paper smock from a cupboard and turned toward my mom. “Vicky, do you mind waiting in the waiting room?”

  I blinked as she placed the backless garment in my lap, and held the door open for my mom to leave. And then I was alone.

  What if I didn’t change? What if I stayed exactly as I was? She couldn’t force me to change. Or stay. I eased the door open, the hall clear. There was an exit at the end of corridor, a beautiful ordinary dash of sunlight streaming in through the glass. As though of their own volition, my hands closed the door. I donned the stiff smock and sat on the edge of the exam table, the crisp paper crackling noisily under my weight.

  I didn’t look up when she returned. Resisting the urge to withdraw into myself, to curl into the fetal position, I wrung my hands.

  “I spoke with the school counselor, Angie. She told me you were raped. I’ll need to do a vaginal exam.” At her soft touch, my shoulders began to shake, my body quaking with tremors, mourning again the loss of my virginity, my strength, Cory. Everything.

  “Go ahead and lie back.”

  I did as she asked and then held perfectly still, staring at a spot on the ceiling. The speculum, a hollow plastic cylinder, was inserted and I winced, gripping the sides of the exam table.

  “Relax, I’ll be done soon.” Her tone was gentle and compassionate, as was her quiet but thorough examination of my body. The only time she deviated from her demeanor was when she shifted the gown to reveal the horrid bruise on my stomach. What had only been on the side of my stomach and hip the day after Brad hurt me was now horrifyingly gruesome, a week later. A sickly yellow surrounded the varying shades of purple and blue, which extended up onto my ribs, curving around to the edge of my back. The center was still a deep dark purple.

  “How much does this hurt when I touch it?”

  I shrugged.

  She poked it and felt around before pulling out an ultrasound machine. “I’m going to check to see if there is any internal bleeding. If there is, we may need to go to the hospital to take a better look. But this should show me if that’s necessary.”

  The gel was still warm from earlier when she’d done her initial vaginal exam, but I still flinched when it made contact with my skin. She passed the ultrasound head over my entire abdomen area, but concentrated mostly on the areas around the bruise.

  “It doesn’t appear you have any internal issues, but I want to see you again in a couple weeks. Sooner if you have any pain.”

  I nodded. After several pictures of the bruises, she let me get dressed.

  Across from me, she took my hands in hers. “Angie, you need to tell me who did this. Who hurt you?”

  My eyes stung with tears. I pressed my lips together and shook my head. I still hadn’t uttered a word. I wasn’t about to start now. It was bad enough, without having to recount the details. For several long agonizing moments, we sat there, my hands in hers, my pulse thundering in my ears.

  “You understand that I am going to have to report this to the police? And they are going to want to talk to you.”

  I stiffened, but again, didn’t speak.

  “Okay.” Rolling her stool back, she picked up a sterile cup from the orderly surface. “You’ll need to fill this. And we’ll need to draw some blood. I’ll send a nurse in after you visit the restroom.”

  With a leaden weight in the pit of my stomach, I shuffled to the bathroom. An image of Cory’s face burst unwanted into my mind and I bit my lip hard to keep from thinking about how he had looked at me, his face twisted in revulsion. My grip tightened on the doorknob.

  Cringing at my haggard appearance, I ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, and wet a wad of paper towel. I pressed the cool dampness to my sunken eyes. And then I turned to fill the cup.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I’m not sure what Dr. Sloan told my mom, but her silence in the car on the way home was different than before. Quiet like the dead. Her eyes glistened when she looked at me. Her chin quivered, and she gripped the steering wheel like it was a lifeline.

  Partway home, she took my hand. “Angela, honey, talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  I threaded my fingers through hers, tears trailing paths down my cheeks.

  “Did Cory hurt you?”

  I choked, and shook my head vehemently.

  “Then who?”

  I shook my head again and detached her fingers from mine. I stared out the window the rest of the way home. She didn’t try to force me to talk again, just hurried me to bed, carefully tucking the blankets around me like she was afraid of breaking me, as though I was a porcelain doll or something. Then she left, only to return soon after with a book in hand, situating herself on my vanity seat. I watched her until my lids grew heavy and sleep took me.

  Brad’s weight and heat was beside me, his musky scent, his ugly laughter.

  I jerked awake, the weight still there next to me on the bed and I screamed.

  “Angie, it’s okay. It’s just me.” JJ’s face came into focus, and I flung my arms around her neck. She held me, rubbing my back, and let me cry.

  When I was spent, I released my death grip on her, feeling light and aching and hollow. Until I opened my mouth, words tumbling out, “It was awful … he … he forced himself on me … it was terrible …”

  “Hey, hey, slow down. Shhh.” She pulled me against her shoulder.

  My disjointed words mingled with hiccups, punctuated in the stillness of my room, images of Brad looming over me, the feel of his cruel fingers, the pain of his forceful attack, the fresh sting of Cory’s rejection, his spitting loathing. I shook my head in a futile effort to gain control over my distress. I gulped in several mouthfuls of air.

  JJ took my hands and encouraged me calmly. “Just take another deep breath, and start at the beginning.”

  Nodding, I took one more quivering breath. The beginning? I shoved away the mental picture of Brad and blurted, “JJ … he raped me.”

  Tears pooled instantly behind my eyes, JJ’s face blurring. “That … that’s what your mom said. I didn’t want to believe her …” Her voice was faint, breathy, then she snarled and rose to her feet. “I’m going to kill him, that worthless piece of garbage. And I’ve been comforting the scum, too.”

  What? Comforting him from what? And how did she even know Brad?

  My whole body went icy cold, my befuddled brain realizing who she meant. “No, it wasn’t Cory.” Even though he’d savagely destroyed my heart, I couldn’t stomach anyone thinking ill of him. “It … it was Brad. From work.”

  Knowing if I stopped I would never have the courage to start again, I slowly revealed the horrid details, my voice dispassionate and empty. My words poured out, faster and faster, the burning need to be free of the dark secret relentless and urgent. Each word uttered made me feel like my soul was purging a bit of the poison out.

  When I told her about my sister, my voice caught. I touched my lips, a teardrop rolling onto my hand. “Lorraine just left me like I didn’t even matter. Left me to him. When I pushed Brad away it all went bad and the next thing I knew I was on the ground struggling for air, and he was
suddenly angry and accusing. I tried to get away. I hit, and kicked, and scratched and bit, and … and I screamed. I screamed for Lorraine, but … she never came. How could she not have heard me?”

  Burying my face in my hands, my sister’s selfish neglect and indifference was debilitating. JJ just held me. After a time, I sat back, wiping my face with my sleeve and tried to finish where I’d left off.

  “I guess Dave heard me, but by then I couldn’t make a sound. I could barely breathe. Brad convinced Dave he’d heard a cat or something and he left. Then Brad dragged me to his room, and I fought so hard but he overpowered me, and … and—”

  “Shhh, shhh, you don’t have to say it.” JJ put a finger to my lips.

  I sagged against her. Somehow her reaction made this whole messed up nightmare a bit easier to handle. She wasn’t disgusted by me. I didn’t have to battle my demons alone anymore.

  If only Cory had been so understanding. My heart twisted painfully as I filled her in about the altercation with Cory. “And Cory, I think he knows, I think Brad told him … now Cory wants nothing to do with me.” My shoulders shook with renewed sobs, JJ’s hand returning to her rhythmic pattern.

  “Ang, Brad wouldn’t have told Cory he raped you.”

  “I know. Brad said he’d tell Cory if I didn’t show up to work. But I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t face him after what he’d done to me. JJ, Brad must have carried through with his threat and told Cory I came on to him or something.” I grabbed at her hands. “You should have seen the way Cory looked at me, JJ. Like I was some diseased … whore, which maybe I am. I mean, what if I have an STD or I’m … preg …”

  I fell on her, unable to finish, all the horror, grief, fear, pain, turmoil, heartache and shame of the past week tumbling out in a torrent of emotion. Every time I thought I’d cried my last tear, a new wave would come like a relentless tide beating and churning against a rocky cliff.

  She tried to keep her voice steady, but there was a slight tremor. “You think you’re pregnant?”

  I nodded my head, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. “My period ended about two weeks ago.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you’re pregnant.”

  “I’m not an idiot. The doctor doesn’t think I am, but she’s not sure yet. JJ, I’ve felt so alone.”

  “Maybe you are an idiot. You should never have kept quiet about this. Why didn’t you tell someone, tell me?” JJ’s voice was gentle, but it held a touch of rebuke.

  I snorted, laughter mixed with sobs, and hung my head, unable to keep eye contact. Leave it to JJ to get after me. But she was right. I shouldn’t have kept this to myself. I should have at least told her. But … “It was my fault, and I didn’t want you to hate me, or be disgusted by me.”

  “I could never hate you.” She gripped my arm firmly and made me look at her. “Angie, how could you possibly think this was your fault? Did you ask him to do it?”

  I shook my head and choked. “Of course not.”

  “Did you tell him no?”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “Nuh-uh. There’re no but’s. You said no. He should have stopped. It’s his fault. He did this. Not you.” She held up one of my arms so I could see the fading pattern of discolorations. “You have to tell the police.”

  I turned away and pulled at my arm.

  I could see her visibly struggling to keep her calm, her nostrils flaring. “Angie, this is crazy. You were raped! You didn’t choose that, but you can choose to do something about it. And if you won’t tell for your sake at least do it for someone else. I mean, what’s to stop Brad from doing that again? Other than I’m going to remove his balls.”

  I sucked in sharply. I hadn’t thought about that. What if he did do this to someone else? And I could have done something to stop it? I closed my eyes, scrunching my face up against every instinct I had to run. But I couldn’t say it, I couldn’t say I’d talk to the police.

  After a moment, she let me go. I felt the bedspring pop up, her weight gone. Her tone was soft, almost apologetic, but firm. “You need to talk.”

  “JJ …” I wanted to refuse. I wanted to bury my head into my blanket and ignore the world. I wanted the nightmare to go away. But I couldn’t allow this to happen to someone else. Not if I could help it. “Okay, I will.”

  ><><><><><

  It was well into November by the time I made it back to school, that disastrous Friday almost two weeks in history, but it was still vivid and raw, as were my thoughts of Cory. Cory with his head back in laughter, his eyes dark with passion as he leaned in to kiss me, his face serious, bent in concentration over his homework, his face smudged with chocolate—his face twisted in revulsion and loathing, “You make me sick, sick, sick.”

  JJ had tried to talk to him, to let him know that Brad had been lying without telling him the truth of it. I couldn’t handle the thought of Cory knowing what Brad had done to me. It had been hard enough telling JJ. I hadn’t heard anything from Cory. I didn’t really expected to.

  I forced myself to focus on something else as I pulled into a parking space—anything else—and slowly regained control, ignoring my heaving stomach. I shut the engine off and used the cuff of my sleeve to dry my eyes.

  JJ faithfully waited for me by the entrance to the school like she’d promised and I picked up my pace. After my revelation that day in my room, I’d told my mom everything, even my sister’s part in it, and then had to repeat it again for the police. JJ hadn’t left my side the whole time. I knew they’d picked Brad up later that same day for questioning, but I didn’t know if he was still in custody or not. Things were up to the courts now, I’d been told.

  My sister had made a tearful appearance that night. “I should have realized something was going on. I heard noises. I’m so sorry, Angie.” I’d allowed her to apologize, to hug me, to make all sorts of promises, to cry on me, to beg for forgiveness. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” I’d told her, but a dark shriveled part of my heart burned with anger and I’d excused myself to my room. I’d hardly closed my door before the raised voices of my parents started in on her. My head stuffed under my pillow, I’d cried until sleep took me.

  The chill air ruffled my hair, and I pulled my arms to me. JJ clasped my hand and squeezed it as we passed through the doors and rounded the corner into the commons. Even though it was an hour before school started there were a few students, some from the team, some for other early morning practice groups. I hung back as an unnatural silence fell. Conscious of eyes on me, my guts twisted violently, the bitter taste of bile in the back of my throat. It looked like rumors had spread, though in what form?

  Only time would tell.

  I bit my lip and redirected my steps. It would be so easy to head back out the door and go home. But I couldn’t hide forever.

  “Angie, you can do this. It’ll be okay.”

  A whimper formed in the back of my throat, and I swallowed and nodded. I could. She was right, I could do this. I forced a smile. “I’m gonna go on down to the locker rooms. Get ready for practice.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I could always count on JJ. The past couple of weeks she’d been there for me like never before. She brought me my homework, spent every afternoon with me, her presence the only thing keeping me from going insane. When she wasn’t there, my mom hovered, dark shadows around her eyes. Occasionally I’d ventured from my room, and once I’d overheard her tormented cries. I retreated to my room and stayed there for days.

  Once, my dad came down to my room. He’d set his hand lightly on my shoulder, like he was afraid to touch me, worried I’d either break or that I was some sort of monster, no longer his little girl. Or maybe that was just how I felt. After several moments of uncomfortable silence he gave me an awkward hug and hurriedly left. He’d hardly been home since.

  Now, with my hand still in JJ’s, walking down the brilliantly lit hallway, voices and laughter following us, I wondered why I’d returned. This wasn’t a place for someone like
me, with its too bright lights, happy people, and the sound of hope and life and laughter exuding from everywhere.

  Awkwardness plagued me throughout practice, my restless stomach churning and tossing. Cory was partnered with his friend James and I worked with JJ and her partner, Jeff. I avoided Cory—avoided thinking about him, avoided talking about him, avoided going near him, and most of all, avoided looking at him, sure I’d see more of the disgust that haunted me.

  During clean-up, I bent to retrieve a weight. Slipping it onto the rack, I twisted to recover the rest of my equipment, my fear realized. Cory loomed above me, his arms laden with weights. This close I could see the pulse in his throat, the sweat glistening on his upper body, and smell the masculine scent of his body. My gaze flicked up to his. There were gray circles under his eyes, but gentleness in them.

  But then he moved off without a word.

  I was late getting to Biology and the hallways were nearly empty. Standing next to the door, his back to me, was Cory, an arm slung casually around Cali Johnson’s perfect shoulders, her small arms clasped around his waist, her face upturned. The scene twisted the knife deeper. I must have made some kind of noise, because they turned to look at me. Her lips formed an ‘O’ as she breathed out a surprised gasp, his eyes meeting mine. I shook my head. His red rimmed look of despair was in my head. It was a trick of the light, wishful thinking. There was no way my own desolation could possibly be mirrored back at me on his face.

  The tardy bell rang shrilly in my ear, and I tore my gaze away. I fought a wave of nausea and stumbled through the door, the world spinning, everything blurring at the edges. And then the floor rushed up to greet me. I thought I heard Cory’s voice, calling out my name, before … oblivion.

  ><><><><><

  The brightness of fluorescent lights glared down on me. I squinted up at the ceiling tiles, my back cold against the hard floor. My head throbbed, and I flinched as my fingers grazed a tender lump above my left eye. Gingerly, I fingered it. It was about the size of a small grapefruit.

  There was a flutter of movement, and Ms. Baxter’s face came into focus, uncomfortably close to mine. She eyed me with detached curiosity, as though I were a specimen on a microscope slide. Was this how it would feel to be a specimen?