Damaged

by Melody Carlson

  “On our last date.” I tell her when that was.

  “Can you describe that night?”

  “It started out as a really special date. Nice dinner, candles, and everything. We took a walk in the park. It was magical.” Even as I say this, I find it hard to believe that something so wonderful turned out to be so horrific.

  “So when and where did the rape happen?”

  “In my bedroom.”

  “Was anyone else at home?”

  I explain that Dad was out.

  “Did you invite Harris into your house?”

  “He asked if he could come in. He had his guitar, and I’d been giving him lessons. We were just going to play some music.”

  “Did you play music?” The detective is studying me now. I can only imagine what she’s thinking.

  “We played for a while, then he stopped and I played a little longer.”

  “Then what happened?”

  I explain about the alcohol. “He told me it was mostly Coke, but I think whatever was in it hit me kind of hard.”

  “Do you usually drink alcohol?”

  “No, never. It was the first time.”

  “So, Harris brought the alcohol with him?”

  “It was in his guitar case.”

  “But you willingly drank some. Do you recall how much you drank?”

  “Not really. I remember he refilled my glass, or maybe he gave me his glass. It’s all pretty fuzzy now.”

  “Were you intoxicated?”

  “I think so. I think I must’ve blacked out … because I came to in my bedroom and I couldn’t even remember how we got there.”

  “You didn’t willingly go to your bedroom then?”

  “No way. What if my dad came home?”

  She nods, looking down at the notepad in her lap. “Now I’ll need you to go into more detail, Haley. I know it’s not comfortable getting this personal, but this is information we need.”

  She asks me more specific questions, and although my face gets hotter and hotter, I try to answer. But some of the things she says don’t even make sense. I don’t even know what she’s talking about. Finally she asks if Harris used protection.

  “I honestly don’t know. After he wouldn’t quit, I just closed my eyes.” I reach up and touch my lip, which has healed. “And I bit into my lip so hard it looked like someone had hit me.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Did you take a photo of your lip or did anyone see you?”

  “No to the photo. But my dad saw it and I told him I’d hit it while swimming laps in the pool.”

  “So when Harris was done, what did you do?”

  I describe how he fell asleep and I just waited to be sure. “Then I grabbed my underwear and ran to the bathroom and took a really long shower.” I tell her how I barricaded myself in there and when I finally came out, he was gone.

  “You mentioned that you grabbed your underwear, Haley. What did you do with it?”

  A jolt hits me. “I, uh, I wanted to destroy it. And the dress I’d been wearing, because it was torn too. They were both too damaged to wear again.”

  “Did you destroy them?”

  “No. I totally forgot. I wadded them into a ball and hid them beneath the sink in my bathroom. As far as I know, they’re still there.”

  Detective Dorman looks pleased. “That’s good news. Those items are evidence.” She asks me about what happened the following day. “Did you tell anyone what happened to you?”

  I shake my head. “No one.”

  “So your parents don’t know.”

  “The only one I told was Ms. Flores.” Now I remember something. “And Emery Morrison.”

  “Is that your best friend?”

  I frown. “No. That’s Harris’s girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  So I explain that.

  “Interesting.” Now she looks confused. “But you told this girl that Harris raped you?”

  I tell her the story of meeting Emery in the restroom. I even tell her about the purity pledge ring. And then I remember the warning letter I received and tell her about that.

  “Do you still have the letter?”

  “No … at the time I thought someone, like one of Emery’s friends, was just trying to scare me away from Harris. So I burned it.” Now I remember how Emery had warned me herself, saying that Harris would eventually go back to her, so I tell the detective about that, too. “And I even had a couple of other warnings.” I mention Poppie and Zach’s concern. “Zach even suggested that this is a pattern with Harris. And I suppose he could be right.”

  Detective Dorman turns to Mrs. Evanston. “Do you suppose there could be other girls at this school who’ve been caught up in this? I mean, if it really is a pattern.”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t know how we’d ever find out.”

  Now I remember Libby mentioning something about a time when Harris and Emery broke up and he had another girlfriend. So I tell them this and the detective makes note of it. She asks a few more questions and finally announces she’s done.

  “What will happen now?” I ask nervously.

  “We’ll bring Harris in for questioning.”

  I take in a slow breath. “So he’ll know I talked to you.”

  She nods.

  “There’s no way to do this anonymously?”

  “I’m sorry. I wish there were. But we will try to protect you as much as we can, Haley.”

  Now I’m crying again. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do what?” Mrs. Evanston asks.

  “Go to this school with everyone knowing about it — knowing I’m the one who got their star football player in trouble.”

  “He’s a star football player?” Detective Dorman asks.

  “He’s the quarterback,” Mrs. Evanston explains. “And the team’s having a good year.”

  The detective gives me a sympathetic look. “It won’t be easy. I suppose you could look into transferring to another school.”

  This reminds me about Dad. “And will you tell my dad?”

  “He’ll have to know, Haley. We can tell him or you can tell him. But he has to know.”

  I shake my head and look down at my hands in my lap. This is so hard.

  “One more thing.”

  I look up. “What?”

  “Let’s run by your house and pick up that evidence. Okay?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  Then I’m dismissed to wait with the other detective while the two women go over a few more things.

  “Are you okay?” Detective Harbick asks in a gentle tone.

  “I guess.” I look at the clock to see that it’s almost time for lunch. “Uh, Detective Dorman said you guys are going to take me home to get some, uh, evidence.”

  “Okay.”

  I point to the clock. “Is there any chance we could get out of here before the other kids are on their way to lunch? I really don’t want to be seen going out with … well, you know.”

  “Sure.” He ducks his head into the office and explains that he and I will wait in the car. Then we quickly hurry out and I hope that if anyone does see me, they’ll assume he’s my dad.

  Hopefully my dad will be as understanding as this cop.

  ...[CHAPTER 16].................

  I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not when I discover that my wad of clothes is still under the sink, but I hand it over to Detective Dorman and she slips it into a bag.

  “I have a question,” I say timidly as I walk her to the door.

  “Yes?”

  “What if I don’t want to press charges against Harris?”

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know this is hard to hear, but it’s out of your hands. Because you’re a minor, it’s up to the district attorney to prosecute, not you. Even if you refused to cooperate with us, we would still pursue this. But, trust me, it will be easier if you continue to cooperate … like you did today.
”

  I bite my lip and wish this would all just go away.

  “I know this is difficult. I do understand. But what you need to understand is that by doing this, you might be sparing another girl. Maybe more than one girl, because if a guy gets away with this once, he might think he can do it again … and again. Wouldn’t you feel terrible if you said nothing and years later learned that Harris Stephens was a serial rapist? Or perhaps worse?”

  I consider this. “Yes. You’re right, I would.”

  “So hang in there.” She makes a half smile. “And tell your dad what happened.”

  “I … I’ll try.”

  “Because he will find out. It’s just a matter of how and when.”

  ……….

  I decide to tell Dad first thing when I see him, but as usual, he goes out with Estelle on Friday night and comes home late. Then when I get up on Saturday morning, it feels like he’s going to sleep in forever. Should I even bother? Really, what does he care?

  When he finally gets up, it seems like he’s in a bad mood. Not grumpy bad, just very quiet. It almost feels like he’s avoiding me, or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone, or maybe he has a hangover, although I hope that’s not the reason. But what if it is me? What if the police called him and told him the whole thing? Suddenly I’m worried. Does Dad already know?

  “Want some coffee?” I recently started both making and drinking coffee. My mother would hate this, but for some reason I find caffeine to be calming.

  “Thanks,” he mutters as he shuffles into the kitchen.

  I fill a mug and hand it to him. Even though I’ve already had my coffee, I pour another cup and sit at the breakfast bar, watching as he forages the fridge for food.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask tentatively as he puts slices of bread in the toaster.

  He shrugs.

  Now I feel really nervous. He must know. Why else is he acting like this? I watch as he butters his toast, then liberally smears it with peanut butter and jelly (his version of a quick, healthy breakfast).

  “I guess I should just tell you.” He sits across from me.

  “Tell me?” My stomach sinks.

  He nods.

  I wait, holding my breath.

  “Estelle and I broke up.”

  “Oh?” I feel a shiver of relief.

  He takes a large bite, noisily chewing.

  “I … I’m sorry, Dad. Are you feeling pretty bad about it?”

  “A little. But I’m the one who broke it off.”

  “You broke it off?”

  He lets out a sad sigh. “I have to admit Estelle was a nice distraction for a while, when I was lonely and needed something. And she was definitely fun. But I really wasn’t in love with her. It seemed like the relationship was going nowhere. And she always expected more than I could give.” He sighs. “It was time to call it quits.”

  “How did she take it?”

  “Oh, you know … she was unhappy. Maybe even mad. But it really seemed the best — for both of us. And I felt bad for neglecting you too, Haley. Oh, I know we had that let’s be grown-ups thing going on, but I just don’t feel good about it. I mean, you’re only sixteen. And you might not think you need any parenting, but I realized I might need to be a dad. After all, you’re going to be heading off to college in less than two years and I’ve already missed so much.” He makes a goofy grin. “You think you still have room in your life for your daddy?”

  My chin is quivering and I’m about to burst into tears, but I’m trying very hard not to. However, the lump in my throat feels like the size of a grapefruit and I know I can’t hold back.

  “Sorry, honey.” Dad looks alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No … no,” I blurt. “It’s just … just … oh, I don’t know….” I jump from the stool and run to my room, where I burst into full-blown sobs. I’m not even sure why I’m crying exactly. On one hand I’m relieved that Dad and Estelle broke up, but on the other hand I realize that what I have to tell him will probably hurt him too. At the very least he’ll be disappointed in me for making such poor choices.

  After a couple of minutes, I hear a tap-tap on my door. “Come in,” I say in a hoarse voice as I sit up in bed.

  Dad opens the door and hesitantly enters my room. “What’s going on?” he asks with concerned eyes.

  Naturally this brings on more tears. Why is it that sympathy breaks me down like this? “It’s a long story.”

  He pulls a chair closer to my bed and sits down. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I put some pillows behind me and lean into the headboard of my bed, closing my eyes. “This isn’t going to be easy, Dad.”

  “Take your time.”

  “It’s very humiliating,” I admit with my eyes still closed. “And I know you’ll be disappointed in me.”

  Now there’s a pause and I wonder if I’m scaring him, but I keep my eyes closed, hoping that maybe he’ll just leave.

  “You need to remember something, Haley.”

  I open my eyes and look at him. He’s leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees. “I am not your mother. She and I think completely differently about things. I’ll admit that I have my faults — plenty of them — but one thing I won’t do is judge you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nod, trying not to cry again.

  “Honestly, Haley, there is nothing you can tell me that will make me love you any less. You could tell me you cheated on your math test or slept with your boyfriend or robbed a liquor store or got a tattoo or decided you prefer girls to boys or have become addicted to drugs or whatever. I’ll still be your dad and I’ll still love you. Okay?” He peers at me. “Do you get that?”

  I nod.

  “In fact, if we’re making confessions, I should tell you that I’m very sorry for what a lousy dad I’ve been to you since you got here. But that’s going to change now.”

  Again there’s a long silence, but hearing him say all that — how I could do anything and he’d still love me — makes me feel stronger. Like I can do this. “Well, I haven’t robbed any liquor stores. But what happened does involve the police.” I wait, watching as he simply nods. Then I slowly begin and, amazingly, just tell him the whole story.

  As I talk, he is kind of twisting his fingers around, as if he’s nervous or upset but trying to act cool. Finally, when I am done, he stands up and begins pacing. Pounding his fist into his palm, he looks very angry.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” I feel tears coming. “I never meant for that to happen and I know now that I never should’ve let Harris in here without you —”

  “No!” Dad turns and looks at me, and I’m shocked to see tears in his eyes. I’ve only seen this man cry once before and that was when he left Mom. “That’s not why I’m mad, Haley. I am enraged at Harris. I want to kill him!” He pounds his fist again. “I really want to make that boy suffer!”

  I blink in surprise.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to charge over to his house and take the law into my own hands, but I am going to back you in this legal case. That boy deserves to be prosecuted — fully.”

  Then I explain how there’s not much evidence.

  “Why didn’t you tell me when this happened?”

  “I was so scared … and ashamed … and you weren’t home. I didn’t know what to do. I would’ve called Mom, but you know how that would’ve gone. In fact, I did call her a few days later … and she was still the same. I couldn’t tell her.”

  Dad comes over and takes my hands in his hands, looking into my eyes. “I’m sorry I was so checked out, Haley. I feel like this is partially my fault.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I should’ve known better.”

  “This is not your fault, Haley. Do you get that? It’s not your fault. That boy was way out of line. What he did was wrong. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Maybe not. But I know I’ll never do that again. I’ll never get into a situation like that again.”
<
br />   “Oh, honey, I sure hope not.” He sniffs. “You’re such a beautiful girl — inside and out. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does.”

  Once again, his sympathy brings on my tears. I remind him about my purity pledge; I made it before the divorce so he knows about it. “But now the pledge is ruined. I feel like I’m — I’m damaged.”

  He squeezes my hands. “You might feel damaged, Haley. But when you get past this, I know you’ll be the same sweet girl as before.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll admit I haven’t been going to church since, well, since your mom started going off the deep end and things fell apart. But I still believe in God. Do you?”

  I consider this. “I guess so. But I know God must be mad at me. Not for what Harris did, but because I was so stupid to —”

  “I disagree,” he says firmly. “I don’t believe God is like that. The God I believe in is loving and kind and forgiving.”

  I take in a long, deep breath. “I’d like to believe that too, Dad.”

  “Well, I have an idea. I’m not saying it’s going to solve all our problems. But a guy at work keeps inviting me to his church. It’s right here in Mitchell and it’s a nondenominational church where it sounds like everyone is welcome. According to Ryan, it’s very positive and the music is uplifting. Maybe you and I should give it a try tomorrow. You want to?”

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  Now Dad hugs me, long and hard. “Oh, Haley, I would do anything to take all that away from you. I’m really sorry I wasn’t here.”

  After he lets me go, I admit how I’d wanted him to walk in and catch Harris and rescue me.

  He shakes his head. “As much as I wish that had happened, I also know that if it had, I might be the one facing prosecution now.” Then he asks about what’s being done to Harris.

  “I don’t really know. It’s in the hands of the police. They told me since I’m under eighteen, they have to prosecute him for me. I don’t even have a choice in the matter.”

  “What would you do if you had a choice?”

  “I don’t know … I suppose I might’ve just buried it.” I tell him how Ms. Flores was the one who blew the whistle. “At first I was mad at her. But then I realized she was just doing her job and I forgave her.”