by Pam Fluttert
I shake my head at Mom, begging her with my eyes to understand and not be hurt by my rejection. She smiles sadly and nods.
I follow the officer through the door, down a long beige hallway to a room with a large mirror, a table and four chairs. If I wasn’t so nervous I’d probably laugh – it’s just what I would picture in the movies.
The officer, following the direction of my stare, shrugs self-consciously. “I know…. Seems like something out of the movies when they’re interviewing a murder suspect. We’re renovating and we don’t have many empty rooms right now. Trust me, there’s no one behind the mirror.”
I shrug, beginning to wonder if this is all a big mistake.
“Let me just go find the detective. I’ll be right back.”
“A detective? Why?”
The officer shrugs and looks at me closely. “I think it would be a good idea.” He turns and shuts the door behind him.
A murder suspect the cop had said…in a way, it’s true. Greg murdered the little girl I used to be. He killed that child the first time he touched me.
Voices interrupt my thoughts and a woman follows the tall officer back into the room.
“I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Officer Jackson,” the man says, “and this is Detective Donaldson. She’s going to talk to you today. We have equipment in this room that will record what you are going to tell us. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, barely louder than a whisper.
“We should also let you know that we could do this at the Domestic Violence Unit instead of here, where there are case workers available. Would you like to continue, or would you rather go there?”
“Let’s just do it,” I say.
Officer Jackson nods and moves out of my direct line of vision to lean against the wall. Detective Donaldson sits across from me at the table. She looks very young. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a bun and her smile seems kind and gentle. She isn’t dressed in a police uniform like Officer Jackson. She’s wearing blue jeans and a blazer jacket. Her eyes are hard to read, but I can see the lines of fatigue around them.
“Sorry about the room, Kat. I know it’s not very comfortable, but it’s all we have at the moment,” Detective Donaldson says. “Officer Jackson tells me you’re looking for somebody to talk to. I understand you had some excitement at your house earlier, and your mother was quite agitated about it. Is this what you want to talk about?”
I nod and stare at the diamond ring on her hand. She must have somebody at home waiting for her, somebody who cares about her, no matter what happens.
“Do you want to talk about your dad?” she asks.
The light sparkles off the diamond when she turns her hand. Unable to lift my eyes, I shake my head.
“Okay. Is this about another family member?”
Again, I shake my head, still unable to look into her eyes, afraid she’ll be able to read everything that’s going on inside me.
“Officer Jackson told me the man fighting with your father is a family friend. Is it him you want to talk about?”
Fidgeting with my hands, I wonder what a diamond like that would look like on my finger. Would it feel cold or warm? Would it protect me from all evil? Could I have used it to scratch Greg’s eyes out when he came near me?
“Kat?”
I remain silent for a few more moments before I hear her soft voice again. “Would you like to try this again another day?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Come back again? If I walk out of this station right now, I’ll never come back.
I raise my head and look into the detective’s eyes. Is it my imagination, or is there understanding there?
“No, I don’t want to come back. I want to do this now.”
“All right then. Let’s go. Are you ready?”
I nod and inhale a deep breath of stale air. “I want to talk about Greg.”
“Greg is the man your father fought with? He’s a friend of your father’s?”
“Yes, since high school.”
“You’ve known Greg for a long time?”
“All my life.”
“Are you and Greg close?”
Close is one word you could use. I start fidgeting with my hands, trying to spit out the words that are lodged tight in my throat.
“Did something about that question upset you, Kat?”
I didn’t think it would be this hard saying the words to a stranger. I look around the room, my eyes resting briefly on Officer Johnson, who is standing in the corner. My palms are wet and clammy while I fidget with them. I try to think and ignore the ringing in my ears.
“I…, um…I’d like my mom to come in.”
“Would you like me to get her?” Officer Johnson asks.
“Yes…. I mean, no. No, it’s okay…. You don’t have to get her.” I pause, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your question upset me.”
Officer Johnson fades back into the corner, almost forgotten, as I stare into the eyes of Detective Donaldson. I search for any sign that she’d rather be somewhere else, but don’t see it. Her attention seems completely focused on me. As if reading my thoughts, she leans forward in her seat, waiting for my next words.
“I guess we’re close. He always says I’m special.” My voice cracks on the last word. I hope I never have to use or hear that word again.
My stomach churns and my face burns in embarrassment.
The detective waits, staring directly at me. Finally she breaks her silence. “Can you tell me why he said that, Kat?”
The room starts to spin and Greg’s words come rushing back. Don’t ever tell, Kitty Kat. They’ll blame you. You’re a bad girl, but I’ll protect you. They’ll never believe you. They’ll call you a liar. They’ll try to ruin our special relationship. You’ll be sorry if you ever say a word.
I flash back to the first time that I remember Greg calling me his special girl. He convinced me I was doing nothing wrong; just showing my love for him.
Mom and Dad were out somewhere with Jared. Greg was babysitting me and we were playing hide-and-go-seek. He wasn’t dating Amy yet and Sarah wasn’t born.
Greg said he had some fun new rules that we should try; that when he found me, I had to do something to show I loved him. And when I found him, he would do something to show he loved me. I thought it was a great idea because I loved Greg with all my heart.
The first time I found him, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. I did the same thing when he found me. The next time, the kiss on the cheek progressed to a kiss on the mouth. After that, Greg said that he wanted me to kiss him on the stomach. The next time, the kiss was lower.
That’s when I became his special girl. “Kitty Kat, do you know how special you are?” he asked me that day. “You’re my special girl now. We share a secret. This is a secret you can’t tell anybody, not even Jared. If you ever tell, people will be very mad at you, and you won’t be special anymore. If you tell, you’ll be a very bad girl.”
Tears rolled down my young, chubby cheeks at the thought of becoming a bad girl in Greg’s eyes. He was the father figure that I always wished for.
Greg asked me if I understood, and I nodded my head so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t kink my neck. Greg glowed with one of the special smiles he saved for me and told me that we should seal our secret together with another special kiss.
“Kat? Are you okay?” Detective Donaldson’s voice snaps me back to the present. I stare at her absently, trying to clear my head of the memory. She hands me a tissue and leans back in her chair, as if she has all the time in the world.
When did I start crying? I dab at my eyes and blow my nose.
The detective folds my free hand into her warm one and squeezes. That single touch of encouragement and the moisture in her eyes is the final catalys
t that bursts the dam inside me.
The words gush forth so quickly, I barely remember to stop at times to take a breath. What seems like an endless supply of tissues is handed to me, without my even realizing where it’s coming from. I dab, blow my nose, and talk some more…dab, blow my nose, and talk some more.
Detective Donaldson holds my right hand the whole time. Occasionally, she asks a question for clarification, but she mainly sits there and listens.
I talk about everything from the time I became Greg’s special girl, to him dating Amy and my jealousy, to them getting married, and Amy winning me over. I tell her of all the things Greg would say and do to me, and the things he insisted I do to him.
Finally I come to this past school year and all the turmoil I’ve been in with Jared leaving for school, fights with Steph, fights with Sarah, and worrying about Greg touching Sarah. I talk about my fading relationship with my parents, my confusion over Scott and my botched attempt at dealing with Greg.
At last, the room is silent. I lean back in my chair completely spent. My thoughts are empty. I don’t remember a time without some horrible memory floating through my head, tormenting me. It’s as if everything has been swept clean with the gush of words that poured out of me. The building could have been on fire and I think I would’ve still sat in this chair and continued with my story.
My head is lighter, my shoulders aren’t slouched. The knot in my stomach is gone, as if a heavy burden has been lifted. I’ve gone through an exorcism and Greg has been purged from my system. Is this what it’s like to feel free?
The detective’s chair scrapes across the floor and she stands, bringing her finger to her lip while she thinks.
“We need to discuss a few things,” Detective Donaldson says. “But first, I have to say to hell with standard protocol for a moment.”
I’m engulfed in a warm hug before I have a chance to figure out what she means. Stunned, I’m not sure what to do, but then my arms wrap around her, seeking the comfort she’s offering. I was right to trust her.
A sniffle from the corner of the room draws my attention to Officer Jackson blowing his nose. I had forgotten he was even there.
Detective Donaldson releases me and sits down again.
“Now,” she says rearranging the papers in front of her, “let’s start by you calling me Mary. And Kat, I’m thrilled to meet such a brave survivor.” She smiles at me. “I can’t imagine the things you’ve gone through, or how you’re feeling, but the abuse ends now, and we are here to help you.”
I remain silent, eager to hear more. An inner glow starts to grow when I hear the word survivor. What a beautiful word. I’m no longer a victim, I’m a survivor. I will fight this and I will survive.
“Let’s talk about help first, before we get back to the legal side of things. We have information here on arranging for counselling and they will also be able to recommend support groups if you feel that’s something you want.”
“I don’t know…”
“Kat, don’t decide right now. You probably feel like a ton of bricks has been lifted from you. Unfortunately, you aren’t the first one to tell us a story like this. You’ve taken some major steps, but your healing will be a long process. You’re going to need a lot of support over the next little while. This is going to be difficult, and once the shock of today fades, you may sometimes feel as if you have exchanged one burden for another.”
I nod. “I’ll think about it.” I’d never really given a whole lot of thought to the fact that other survivors like me are out there. I always felt so lost and alone – so different and isolated from everyone else my age, except for Steph and Scott. I never thought about how I’d feel after talking to the police, either. Everything is suddenly very new.
“That’s all I can ask, Kat. Now, let’s talk about the legal side of this situation.”
“Wh-What do you mean?” My heart stops. Was Greg right? Am I in trouble now?
Mary smiles and pats my hand. “Relax, Kat. You haven’t done anything wrong. We will want to talk to your parents and ensure we have enough evidence for reasonable and probable grounds to make an arrest. With an arrest, we will be pressing criminal charges against Greg, meaning that unless Greg pleads guilty, this whole thing will go through the judicial system and possibly to trial. Cases like this sometimes get nasty with a lot of ‘he said/she said.’ Greg will be presumed innocent, until proven guilty. It will be your word against his.”
Sweat beads form on my forehead. What will people say about me? How will my family and friends feel? The kids at school will look at me in the halls and they will know the disgusting things I did with Greg. Blood rushes to my head, pounding relentlessly, matching the beat of my heart.
“I…I don’t think I can do that,” I whisper.
“I know it sounds frightening, but just think about how far you’ve come. He should be punished for what he did to you. You’ll spend a very long time recovering from this, Kat, and he doesn’t deserve to walk around free. Consider the fact that he may have done this to others, and there could be more victims in the future unless he is stopped.”
I’ve been concerned about Sarah and what might happen to her. What if there were others? Do I have the power to stop him?
Maybe I’m not brave enough to be a survivor after all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mom’s hold on my hand is like a death grip, but she remains quiet as we walk to the van, a few steps behind Dad.
When I came out of the room, Mom was pacing, obviously worried and agitated. Dad was sitting on a bench, scowling. Detective Donaldson spoke to them quietly, asking some additional questions. Since then, Dad hasn’t said a word to either of us.
Mary gave me her card with her extension at the station, her cell phone number, and her e-mail address. She even wrote her personal e-mail address on the back in case I need to talk more, “off the record.” She told me that he might not be a serial killer or a bank robber, but that Greg’s a dangerous criminal all the same. She also told me that no decent person would ever blame me or look badly on me.
She gave me a lot to think about. Everything has happened so fast.
Mom hits the button on the key remote to unlock the van doors so Dad can get in. I stop her after Dad climbs into the side door of the van.
“Has he said anything at all?”
“Not really. You know how he is.” She puts her hands to my cheeks. “Are you okay? I was so worried about you, and I’m so, so sorry about all this.” I nod, but stare at the ground, disappointed that Dad didn’t seem very concerned about me. I figured he’d at least ask Mom what happened when he was taken away and if I was okay, but he didn’t.
Dad’s head pokes around the van door. “Are you coming, or not?”
Sighing, I get into the van. Dad winces when he puts on his seat belt.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
“I’m fine. I forgot about that nasty right hook Greg has. Last time I felt that was in…”
Mom pulls out of the parking lot, the silence in the van thick and uncomfortable, until Dad finally clears his throat.
“What did you tell them, Kat?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before answering. Dad has a tendency to analyze and pick apart anything a person says, especially when the person is me.
“I told them the truth, Dad.”
“I wish you had let me come in there with you. You need a lawyer present when you talk to the police. They can use anything you say against you.”
“Mary was very nice, Dad. I don’t think she’d do that. Besides, I haven’t done anything wrong. They will use the things I said against Greg, not me.”
“David, please,” Mom tries to interrupt.
“Neither of you realize how things like this work.” Dad waves away Mom’s protests. “I’ll call someone I kn
ow at the Crown Attorney’s office and make sure this whole thing is handled properly.”
Something inside me snaps. After everything I’ve been through, he’s worried about a case. He can’t stop being a lawyer for one moment to show me that he’s my father first and foremost.
“No.”
“Did you say no?” Dad’s voice is filled with surprise.
“Yes. I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you to be a lawyer. I want you to be my dad.”
I stare out the front window, tears running down my cheeks. By now I should be like a dried up old prune with no more moisture to shed, but more tears fall.
“Katrine, I don’t know how else to deal with this.” I have to strain to hear Dad’s words, not sure if I’m hearing correctly.
I turn in my seat to look at him. A tear slides down his cheek. I stare at it, mesmerized.
“It’s the only way I know of to help you. Did Greg…did he…?” It’s not hard to guess what Dad is trying to ask me.
“Greg did some awful things, Dad.”
“Did he…Did he hurt you?”
How do you answer a question like that? He hurt me emotionally. Sometimes it would hurt physically as well. He would lie and threaten, and other times he’d be really nice and call me special and make me feel loved. He’d be the father figure I needed, and then he’d be the terrible, mean person I was afraid of. He’d understand me when I was feeling down, but then he’d take advantage and make me do things I didn’t want to do.
Dad seems to accept my silence as affirmation. “He’s my best friend. I trusted him with my family. I don’t understand. I just can’t believe it.”
Immediately defensive, I shout out that I am not a liar, and if he doesn’t believe me that he isn’t much of a father.
Dad looks stunned. The van jerks sideways as Mom jumps, startled by the sudden rise of my voice. Tears are running down her cheeks, too.
“I didn’t mean…that’s not what I meant, Katrine.” Dad looks into my eyes. “I know you’re not lying. I know it in here.” Dad pats his chest over his heart. “He just betrayed us all. I feel so stupid. He even had a wife, and they wanted children so badly. Amy…what about Amy? You say she’s gone. Is that true?”