“There is an upside to this, Jasmine.” Dr. Broughman sat down in the chair next to the bed. “So far, you’ve been in the hospital for eleven days. Your withdrawal symptoms are probably past the worst part. When you do get released and go into rehab, your time there will be spent mostly on counseling…”
“Counseling? For what?” I didn’t need a counselor. I needed my life turned back about nine months.
The psychiatrist stepped in. “Counseling for the drug, Ms. Stanton. Your physical symptoms may have begun to subside, but trust me when I say that there is about a 96% relapse rate for meth users, even after rehab. The counseling will be ongoing for at least a year.”
“A year? Says who? Dad? Are they for real?”
“Jasmine, at this point, I would do whatever they tell you to do, young lady. Your cooperation in this matter is going to be the only salvation you might have in this entire nightmare. If they tell you to dance a jig, I would probably get up and put on my dancing shoes.”
Chapter Twenty
The next several days were a blur. A variety of new doctors and medications became the routine in the hospital. Regular visits from the police detectives became the norm and when it became common knowledge on the floor of the hospital that I wasn’t a poor victim, but had skydived out of a window because I was high on drugs, the nurses all acted differently and continued to do their jobs, but weren’t quite as sympathetic. I was probably paranoid, but I would swear that they were even purposefully being rougher when they gave me shots or performed other procedures on me….
My father made daily visits. The first time I saw my mother after the visit with my father was probably the hardest conversation of my entire life, but completely the opposite of what I expected. I truly thought that my mother, with her country club friends and her reputation at stake, would distance herself as much as possible. The contrary took place. Mom voiced her concern, her complete disappointment, but then she and I had a private conversation that I will take to my grave.
“First, the night of the attack, I was drugged, mom. With a drug called methamphetamine.”
“I know all about it, Jazz.” She wiped her nose.
“How? How do you know?”
“Well, of course, your father has torn this town apart at this point, determined to find out the name of the person who is responsible for this. He didn’t come out and tell me, but I overheard him in the car talking to the police chief. He dropped me at the hotel and then went straight to the police station.”
“I’ve seen that drug on Dr. Phil. My God – was it horrible? Do you remember it?”
“Unfortunately, yes. And, no, mom, the drug was not horrible. In fact, it was amazing. I’ve never felt so good. I felt like I could do anything.” I just didn’t know how I was going to tell her the rest.
“And, since that night, I have continued using it. I don’t know why, but it helps me. It helps me study, it helps me work, stay up late…I do better at everything if I’m taking it. I think of it like medicine because it really does make me feel not so sick…I mean every since that night…”
“Jasmine, I have something to tell you.” She then told me something I would never have imagined in my wildest imagination…something that I would take to my grave. Something that brought me and my mother closer than we had ever been, which I didn’t think was possible.
She told me about a time that my father had a brief affair with a colleague of his when I was about four. She talked about how she wanted to die. She actually thought of ways to kill the two of them, to kill herself, what she had done wrong, and a plethora of things that had nothing to do with anything she had done wrong. As with all things imperfect, she and my father had simply grown apart and he had turned his attention to a younger woman who worshiped him, wanted to work her way up the corporate ladder, and who expected nothing from him in return. The perfect combination.
During that time, my mother, the most perfect, spotless human being that I had ever known, admitted to having gotten addicted to pain medications and nerve medications. They were prescribed by her physician, but in the late ‘70s, any wealthy woman could walk into her physician’s office and basically cry the blues and get whatever medication it would take to heal a broken heart, therapists not included.
Stunned, I continued to listen as she talked about how she and my father, like almost every other wealthy married couple, had discussed divorce, had stayed together for my sake, and she had “gone away” to visit family for a few weeks to get her head together. In reality, she had sent me to visit my grandmother and had gone into a very posh rehabilitation center herself for several weeks and come out refreshed and determined to maintain her marriage for appearance’s sake, as well as mine. She knew of my father’s continued indiscretions, but separated them from the man who walked into our front door in the evenings.
All of it fit. I remembered visiting my grandmother that summer (I had discovered an abandoned litter of baby rabbits and she had allowed me to nurse them back to health that summer – it was amazing) and it also explained why the two of them maintained a “Stepford Wives” sort of relationship and slept in different rooms. I had always thought it was because my father was basically an insomniac, staying up all night working on his cases, but in reality they were simply not actually involved with each other in that way.
When she finished her declaration of understanding, she finished by saying that she would be by my side throughout my battle and that she would make sure that I was not alone for one minute, no matter what. I was able to ask her questions that I certainly couldn’t ask my father and then I knew it was time to tell her what had really happened the night of the attack. Should I or shouldn’t I? Who would benefit? At this point, I felt like total truth about everything was necessary. I couldn’t hold it in from her. Certainly not now, not after her revelation to me.
“Mom, there are a few more things I have to tell you, too.” We were both crying, but she wiped away both of her tears and said, “you go right on, dear.”
“It’s about the night of the attack, mom.” She sat up, listening intently, as if she knew what she was going to hear already. My mother was a very smart person and just had intuition about things. She didn’t know the details, but I knew that she knew there was more to the story that I had told her.
“Mom, I was raped that night.” No reaction. I couldn’t believe it. “I know dear.” My brow furrowed. “By seven different guys, according to the police.” That took her breath. She gasped in, a few times. She got up out of the chair and walked over to the window, with her arms crossed. She didn’t want me to see her sobbing, but she quickly gathered herself together. She didn’t turn around just yet thought.
“Do they have any idea about who they were?”
“No, mom. I was drugged and I don’t remember any faces.”
She swung around. “You mean to tell me that this police department hasn’t done anything about this? That not one person has been arrested?”
“Well, according to them, because I participated, even though I was hurt, there were no crimes actually committed.”
I had never seen my mother become enraged. “ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU WERE DRUGGED. SEVEN ADULT YOUNG MEN HAD THEIR WAY WITH YOU WHEN YOU SAID NO. THERE WERE NUMEROUS CRIMES COMMITTED.”
“Who is the detective who handled this case?”
Because she had been so supportive and because I knew that she needed to find some sort of retribution for this complete erasure of eighteen years of hard work and pride that she had invested in the most important person in her life, I gave her all of the information that she wanted, even knowing that they would tell her the same things.
“Don’t get your hopes up, mom. It’s been nine months.”
“But you’re telling me they have blood samples (she couldn’t bring herself to say semen samples) and they can’t match them to specific young men?”
“They do have samples, but say that since legally, in the eyes of the law no crime was comm
itted, the samples are protected by HIPAA privacy laws. They have basically stopped investigating this, even though they say they haven’t.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that.” She got up, gathered her things, and then stood at the end of my bed.
“Jasmine, I love you more than anything in this whole world. Between me and Sabrina, on either side of you, you will come through this. A terrible wrong has been committed, but I will not stop until I see my beautiful daughter exonerated. Do you believe me?”
“Of course, mom.” Of course I knew that she would go to great lengths and energy, but I felt bad that it would probably be ill-spent. But, she was in my corner. Despite the fact that I had admitted to being a drug user and that I had been used and defiled by seven different young men, in one night, all at the same time. A mother’s worst nightmare. Any person’s worst nightmare. She was going to stand by my side, no matter what happened. Knowing that made me feel so empowered. I knew that things were going to be better, just having her with me. Not treating me like a little girl any more, but like the person that I really was.
Chapter Twenty One
I knew that I had to talk to Jonathan and tell him everything. He had to know what had happened during the first attack, and everything subsequent to that, even if it meant losing him. I think I loved him – I had never felt so completely connected to anyone else except for my best friend or my family and I know that I couldn’t think of anything that had to do with my future unless the consideration of how Jonathan was included. To me, that meant that I knew I wanted him to be the other half of my life. I felt completed when I was with him and nothing, including this, seemed settled or real until I was able to tell him.
I thought at first that I should plan the conversation. I considered even having an outline ready, but then it occurred to me that he would have questions and that I wouldn’t be prepared. Unfortunately, this was not Honors English; I couldn’t prepare a well-written report. I simply had to lay it out for him and take what came along with it.
The day I was to be released, I called Jonathan early because I knew that I was going to be greeted not only by my family and Sabrina, but also by a social worker, a home health nurse and Detective Ben. They had forewarned me that my father would be able to bring me into the police station, but that I would formally have to be booked and charged and I couldn’t even bear the thought of it by myself. I didn’t want Jonathan caught off guard. I should have already told him. There were a million times when I almost did, but almost is not telling him. I should have told him.
As always, he was there early. He looked so wonderful. His face was kind, he was dressed with his shirt tucked in, carrying flowers and glowing, as if he was taking home his first baby. I looked at him and wanted to notice every detail because this very may well be the last time he would want to see me.
“Hi beautiful,” he kissed my forehead. “I’m so glad that you’re coming home. I’m actually glad that you called me to come in first because there’s something I want to talk to you about in private as well.”
Oh, God. Surely not.
“Jonathan,” I didn’t know where to start. “Why don’t you go first?”
“Well, I’ve never done this before and I don’t want to mess it up.” He grinned and, just like I suspected, he took a small box out of his pocket. A ring box.
“Jasmine, I’ve never met anyone like you. From the first time I met you at that party, I saw something in your eyes that I had never seen before and it drew me – like I could see inside of you or something. The more time I’ve spent with you, the more I wanted to be with you and then, when we were together that night…” he hesitated, “I haven’t thought about anything else. You are the most wonderful, unexpected amazing surprise that I never knew I needed until I almost lost you.”
And there he went. Down on one knee. He opened up the beautiful white velvet box and there it was. The most incredible, simple, glowing diamond engagement ring I had ever seen.
“Jasmine Stanton, will you please make me the happiest man on Earth and be my wife?”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but cry.
“I love you, too, Jonathan. But there are some things that you don’t know about me.”
“Is that a no? I don’t understand…”
“No….it’s just that…Oh, God!!! I have to talk to you first, please.”
He closed the box slowly and sat down in the chair. “That wasn’t what I expected at all.” He looked very embarrassed and then started to look a little bit angry.
“Jonathan please don’t get angry. It’s just that I’m not who you think I am. I mean, I am, but I haven’t been honest with you…”
“About what? What could you possibly have to tell me that would change anything about how we feel about each other?”
There was nowhere to start but the beginning. I told him why I had gone to the party and that it was my first party. I told him that, after he left, I had been reading for a while and knew that Sabrina might be in trouble.
“Why didn’t you call me? I told you to call me.”
“I know, but it was two o’clock in the morning and I didn’t know…”
“Know what?”
I started crying again. “Please, please just let me get through this.”
He sat back and stared at the door, not at me, with his arms crossed. The ring was gone, probably forever. I loved him so much – I knew it now for sure because I could feel him pulling away from me with every word.
I went on and told him how I had gone into the kitchen and about all of the people making coffee. I told him about drinking the coffee and about the guys who offered to help me go and look for Sabrina…
“No. You didn’t go with strangers at two in the morning after drinking that stuff – let me guess – you were feeling lightheaded?”
“I didn’t think NOT to go with them. I just needed help finding her and they knew the house.”
“Well of course they knew the house. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with? Are you really that naïve?”
“Well, I guess so, Jonathan.” I told him about going into the room and then I told him the rest of the story. All of it. About at least seven people and about waking up on the floor. I told him about calling 911, about the ambulance and about the hospital finding methamphetamines in my bloodstream, probably from the coffee. I told him about the needle in the room and about being completely naked and bleeding from the front and back.
At this point, he was still staring at the door, only tears were streaming down his face. They were not sorrowful tears, they were really angry tears.
“And never, not once, did it occur to scream for help or to call me or ANYTHING?”
“No..I…tried to get away and then one of them held his hand over my mouth…they started shoving things into my mouth…”
“Oh, God, I think I’m going to throw up.” He ran out of the room and down the hall. I could hear him from my room and he was violently vomiting in the bathroom. I heard a nurse knock and ask if he was OK. That was it. I knew that he was through with me. I mean, what man would want a wife who had been with seven total strangers in one night? Men she couldn’t even tell you their names. And I hadn’t even gotten to the best part.
I couldn’t even believe it, but he came back. He was completely pallid, still crying, but he sat back down.
“Jasmine, I don’t even know what to say to you. I mean, I can’t even process what you have said to me…”
“Jonathan, I’m not through. As long as you know this much, you need to know it all.”
“What do you mean ‘know it all’? What else happened that night?”
“It wasn’t that night.” My voice became very monotone and very matter-of-fact at this point. Any moment, I would have a parade of people coming in the door and he deserved to know everything. I told him about the next day and how I had asked Sabrina to help me find more. I told him about Kenny and that I was using every day because it really h
elped me with my schoolwork and it helped me, period.
“Drugs don’t help you…you get high.”
“YES, OK? I like how I feel when I get HIGH.” Ouch. He sat forward with his hands folded.
“When my family comes, I am being taken to the police station and they will formally charge me with possession since it was in my bloodstream. My father is representing me, but I will be taking at least 60 days off from school to attend rehabilitation and try to get my life back on track. I don’t expect you would understand. I just thought that you should know the truth – all of it.”
We both sat for a moment and there was a knock on the door. It was the parade, led first by my mother.
“Oh, flowers! How beautiful – thank you, Jonathan.”
He looked at me, and then at first. “Thank you, Mrs. Stanton. You’ve raised a beautiful, strong daughter and I care very much for her. But, I have something I need to take care of this morning, so I’m going to let all of you take care of her.”
He looked in my direction and with bold firmness in his voice, he said,
“I’ll only say this once. Love like this doesn’t happen twice in a person’s life. I will talk to you later, but I have some things to sort out. Think about. Take it easy today, Jasmine.”
I was stunned. He didn’t say that he hated me, or that he was through with me, or goodbye – he still loves me. But what is it that he had to go take care of? Maybe he just didn’t want to be part of going to a police station, which I could totally understand. Somehow, there was a glimmer of hope inside of me and the rest of this day just really didn’t matter.
Chapter Twenty Two
The hospital stay was shorter than I had expected. Once I was stable, I was released, with my casts and my stitches still intact. I was greeted by my family, Sabrina, and the detectives who were surprisingly gracious. Detective English went through the formality of reading me my rights.
Girl Seduced (The Girl Interrupted Trilogy Book #1) Page 10