The sensation of cotton swabs scraping against and inside Sara’s vaginal and anal regions made her finally break down and cry—something she hated doing in front of other people, something she had stopped doing years ago, something she had sworn no one would ever make her do again. She had thought the examination was as bad as her attack, but she had been wrong; it was worse. These people were spending what felt like hours probing and violating every part of her body and seeing every flaw, and she had no idea what they were going to do next or how much longer the examination was going to last, the suspense of their attacks heightening her already-elevated anxiety. Jason’s attack felt ephemeral in comparison.
“You’re doing great, Sara. We’re almost finished,” Barrett stated.
Sara felt her fingernails being scraped and cut.
“Sara, make a fist for me, please. We’re going to draw some blood,” the doctor said.
Sara balled her right hand into a fist and waited for the needle to pierce her skin.
“Sara, can you tell me if you use any kind of birth control?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t use any,” she said in between sniffles.
“When was the last time you menstruated?”
“Oh, it . . . I don’t know. Two, maybe three weeks ago. I don’t know.”
“Have you had any recent sexual activity with anyone other than your attacker?”
“No, I . . . I was a virgin prior to this.”
“Okay, Sara, now I’m going to administer a shot.”
“A shot?”
“Yes. It’s antibiotics to help prevent the transmission of some of the STDs your attacker may have. We’ve drawn blood to test you for HIV. The results should be back in about half an hour. We’ll also give you some emergency contraceptives to help prevent pregnancy.”
The day just kept getting worse and worse for Sara: The possibility of having Jason’s child or catching an STD from him had never crossed her mind. Pregnancy wasn’t that big of a problem. There was another way to end a pregnancy if the contraceptives didn’t work, but she remembered learning in health class that not all STDs are curable, and there was a strong possibility that Jason might have something and passed it along to her, given his reputation.
“I’m going to have to inject the antibiotics into your buttocks.”
“My buttocks?”
“I’ll make it as quick and as painless as possible.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve placed a table in front of you. You can hold on to that if you need to.”
Sara reached her hands out and placed them on the table.
“Let me know when you’re ready, Sara.”
“I’m ready.”
Within seconds warm latex gripped Sara’s butt, and then cold metal pricked it.
“Okay, all done,” said the doctor. “There’s some oral antibiotics you need to take as well for the full effect. The nurse will bring that in, along with the emergency contraceptives. I highly recommend you do a follow-up with your own physician in about a month or so to make sure you’re all clear. Do you have any questions for me?”
“What if . . . what if he did give me something? And it can’t be cured?”
“Well, even if your attacker gave you something that can’t be cured, it can still be treated and made more manageable. Even HIV isn’t the death sentence it once was. But we’re jumping the gun, here. You’re HIV test isn’t even back yet, and the antibiotics will take care of most of the other STDs. Do you have any other questions for me?”
Sara shook her head no.
“Okay. I’ll turn you back over to Officer Barrett. You did great, Sara. You were the best patient I had today.”
Sara didn’t say anything. She simply stood there, keeping her eyes closed and bracing herself for the next devastating revelation. They seemed to keep coming, like a killer in a horror-movie franchise.
“Thank you, doctor,” Barrett said. “Well done, Sara. We’ll process the evidence and contact Jason Pruitt—”
“I remember!” Sara shouted. “I remember now, Jason’s phone number. I remember it.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“It’s 215-555-2409.”
“Got it. Good. We’ll process the evidence and talk to Jason—”
“Talk to him? You mean you’re not going to arrest him?”
“Well, we have to hear his side of the story—”
“Story? So now you don’t believe me?”
“No, that’s not it at all. We just have to check everything out, ya know, dot all our i’s and cross all our t’s. Is there anyone who we can call for you, a parent or friend or—”
Sara shook her head no.
“We called a rape counselor for you. Would you like to talk to her?”
“What about my clothes?”
“We need them as evidence. I’m sure the hospital can find something for you. What about the rape counselor?”
“Look, I really don’t feel like talking to anyone else,” Sara said brusquely. “I just wanna get dressed and go home. Can you take me home?”
“The rape counselor could. And you two don’t even have to talk about the rape. She can just drive you home.”
“Okay,” Sara sighed.
“She’s right outside. Can she come in?”
“No! Not until I get some clothes.”
“Okay. I’ll see if I can find the nurse to bring you some. When you’re ready, Jessica, the counselor, will be waiting outside. Your phone number is 215-555-7656?”
“That’s my house phone, but I don’t want you calling that. Or talking to my dad. Call my cell. It’s 215-555-3039.”
“Okay. Got it. We’d like you to come down to the station as soon as possible to talk to a detective—”
“I’m not doing it today. I’ve been stuck here all day, I’m tired. I want—I need to go home and take a long hot shower.”
“That’s fine. That’s totally understandable. You’ve done plenty today.”
“Would you please stop talking to me like I’m a fucking five-year-old? For fuck’s sake, I was attacked, I didn’t turn into a retard.” Sara apologized immediately to Officer Barrett. She hadn’t meant to snap at her. The anger and the rage and the fear and the helplessness boiling up inside her had caused her to lash out.
“It’s okay, I understand. I’m gonna leave my card here on the table with your case number on the back, so you can call me if you need anything. Do you have anything else you need me to do for you before I go?”
Sara shook her head no.
“Okay, I’ll leave you to get dressed. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this guy.”
Sara heard footsteps and then the closing of a door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sara heard a knock at the door. She leaped behind the partition to cover her naked body. The door creaked open.
“Sara?” Nurse Linda called out.
Sara breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m here.”
“I’ve brought you some clothes, honey. And I’ve got your medications and the results of your HIV test.”
Sara held on to the partition for dear life. What if she had it? What if she was positive? She was only seventeen. She didn’t want to be stuck with a life-threatening disease this early; she didn’t want to be stuck with a life-threatening disease at all. The doctor might have said that HIV was manageable, but Sara was sure the doctor had simply been trying to keep her chin up, and even if she had been telling the truth, it was still HIV—not a common cold, not the flu, HIV. It was a serious illness; having it changed things. “You can just leave them on the bed and then go, please.”
“I can’t do that, honey. I have to discuss the medicine and the results of your test with you. You can stay behind the partition if you like.”
“Okay.” Sara took a moment to gather her strength before asking, “What are my test results?”
“You came back negative for HIV.”
“Yes!” Sara chortled.
“I hat
e to have to tell you this, honey, but HIV doesn’t always show up right away. It’s recommended that you get tested every three months up to six months to be on the safe side.”
“Why didn’t you say that before getting my hopes up?”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Just tell me about my medication, so I can get out of here.”
“All right. I have a pill here for you to take that acts as an emergency contraceptive. It’s very important that you take it within seventy-two hours for it to be effective, but it doesn’t have a hundred percent success rate, so you should have a follow-up with your own physician in about a month to make sure you’re not pregnant. Follow me so far, honey?”
“Yes.”
“There’s also a small cup of oral antibiotics to prevent any STDs, like gonorrhea or syphilis, for you to take. They work in tandem with the one the doctor injected into you. Again, it’s recommended that you do a follow-up with your own physician to make sure you haven’t contracted any STDs.”
“I have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“What’s the point of giving me all this shit if none of it works, and I still have to follow up with my own doctor?”
“You’re more than welcome not to take the medication if you don’t want it,” Nurse Linda said curtly. “The counselor is out here waiting to take you home, when you’re ready.”
“I already know, thanks.”
“Don’t forget to stop by the receptionist’s desk to make arrangements, honey.”
“Arrangements?”
“For paying your bill. You didn’t think this was a free ride, did you?”
Sara heard footsteps and then the door opening and closing. She couldn’t believe the hospital was charging her. Not only had her assault cost her physically, mentally, and emotionally but now it was costing her financially, too. She did have insurance, but it was through her dad, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out. She would simply sneak out without paying. She shouldn’t have to pay anyway. Jason was the one who had broken the law; he was the one who had done wrong by hurting her. The bill should fall on his shoulders, not hers.
Sara came from behind the partition to find the shabbiest clothes she had ever laid eyes on folded on the hospital bed. Countless sick people had probably worn those clothes, and the clothes probably weren’t even clean. But it was wear them or nothing, so she put on the baggy brown sweater and wrestled with the too-tight jeans. There were no shoes. She saw the medication sitting on the table and debated whether she should take them. After mulling it over for a few minutes, she decided it was best to err on the side of caution. She swallowed the pills and the antibiotics, and then she rushed out the room.
An attractive young woman, who appeared to be Sara’s age, stood from the chair outside Sara’s hospital room and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Jessica.”
“Oh yeah, you’re that counselor,” Sara said, not taking Jessica’s hand.
“Yes, I am her,” she laughed. “You need a ride home, right?”
Sara nodded.
“I can most certainly accommodate that. Follow me.”
“Can we take the back way? I really don’t want people seeing me like this.”
“Sure. I totally understand.”
Jessica took the lead as they went down a rear staircase that led to an underground parking lot. Jessica guided Sara toward her blue Ford Explorer. They climbed in.
“I already received your address from Officer Barrett, so no need to tell me,” Jessica started the car and took off. “So how are you feeling?”
Sara had her head turned away from Jessica, but she could see her pretty reflection in the passenger-side window, looking at Sara with compassion and sympathy. It irked her to have this Barbie doll looking at her as though she were damaged goods—as if she needed another reason to look down on Sara—so she turned her head forward and shut her eyes. “Look, no offense or anything, but I really don’t feel like talking. I just wanna go home and take a nice, long hot shower.”
“That’s fine. I completely understand.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived at Sara’s home, Jessica handed her a card. “It has my info on it. If you need to talk or anything, feel free to call. You know, you don’t have to go through this alone.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Sara jumped out and ran to her front door, eager to get away from Jessica as soon as possible. She turned the knob and entered the house to discover that it looked as though the attack had never happened and the police had never been there. Good. She didn’t want to have to explain anything to her dad.
Sara climbed the stairs and headed into her bathroom. She threw the clothes she had on in the trash and then went to the bathtub, turning the hot water on, full blast. While she was waiting for it to get hot, she grabbed a washcloth out of the linen closet and then hopped in. She pulled the shower curtain across and then pulled the knob on the tap to make the water come through the showerhead.
She let out a slight moan: the hot water running all over her body felt exceptionally good. She began washing herself, in a relaxed manner at first, and then, as her mind flashed back to her assault and the medical exam, she went from gently washing herself to furiously scrubbing herself to get the stench and touch of other people off her. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin cracked and she started to bleed.
Sara stayed in the shower for over an hour, and then she headed to her bedroom. In the middle of dressing herself, she heard the front door open and close. She threw on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants to cover the damaged skin on her body and then thumped downstairs.
“Hi, honey. What’s for dinner?” her father asked as she came into the living room.
Sara responded, “I actually haven’t made anything yet,” in a tone barely above a whisper.
“Didn’t see that one coming. You’re usually so on top of everything.”
“I had something to do for school. Sorry if my life doesn’t revolve around you every second of every day.” Her father’s eyes widened with surprise at her insolence, and she realized she had sniped unintentionally at someone again. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean it. It’s just been a really long day. I’ll go get started on dinner.”
“No, it’s okay. I know how hard you work, you deserve a break. We can order in tonight. I’ll order us a pizza.”
“Okay.” Sara moved toward the phone.
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll call.”
“Are you sure?”
“I run my own business. I think I can handle ordering pizza. You still like yours with pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, and black olives?”
Sara nodded and then turned to head back upstairs.
“Is everything all right, with the school stuff and everything else you got going on?”
Sara stopped, her back to him, and said, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” She did her best to sound normal.
“I don’t know. You just seem . . . different. I guess you’re just growing up, huh?” he chuckled. Sara, keeping up the pretense that everything was fine, chuckled along with him and then headed back upstairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
What have I done? Jason sat at the desk in his bedroom, his hand covering his face, feeling disgusted with himself. He had never forced himself on a girl before; he had never needed to. Girls had always given him whatever he wanted. No matter how much anyone had resisted, no matter how many obstacles had stood in his way, he had always gotten whomever and whatever he had wanted, whenever he had wanted, however he had wanted. Until he had met Sara, that was. How could he have done that to her? He loved her. Or at least he thought he did. She had just made him so angry by refusing to listen to him and by refusing to accept his apology that he had simply lost it. In a way, she had made him do it.
He hadn’t been rejected before—truly, unrelentingly rejected—by a girl, or anyone for that matter (well, aside from his parents). He had still been hung
over from last night. And he had been afraid that Eric and Andy would never let him live down the stigma of not being able to bag a fat chick. The next thing he had known, things had gotten out of hand, and he had been leaving with Sara’s panties.
That hadn’t been how he had wanted their first time to be. Unfortunately, their first time would also be their last. There was no way to come back from what he had done. Sara would never forgive him. He would have to move on and leave what had happened in the past.
He removed his hand from his face and saw Sara’s panties on his desk, a flagrant reminder of his success. And his crime. The sight of them nauseated him, so he turned away. He took his phone from his pocket and dialed.
“What up, J?” Eric answered.
“Hey, bro,” Jason said in his player voice, “guess who just won a bet?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sara’s alarm sounded at six thirty on Monday morning. It didn’t matter, though, because she had been up since three. She had never been the type of person who could easily drift off to sleep, but it had never taken her hours to do so, either, which was what had happened last night, and when she had finally fallen asleep, she’d had the most horrible nightmare: She dreamed that a masked man, wearing a blue-and-white letterman jacket, sneaked into her house by climbing through her bedroom window. He tied her limbs to the bedposts and awoke her by forcing himself inside her. When she tried to scream for help, he stuffed a football inside her mouth. Fearing death and gasping for air, Sara felt adrenaline course through her veins and give her the strength to break free from her restraints. She coughed up the football and then struggled with her attacker, pulling his mask off during the battle, revealing him to be none other than Jason. They bided in their duel.
“Don’t touch me, Jason!” Sara screamed. “Somebody, help me! Please! Somebody!” She thrashed around to free herself from Jason, but he held her tight.
“Sara! Sara! Sara, calm down! You’re at home, you’re safe!”
“Dad?” she croaked, as she opened her eyes and got her bearings: the light in her room was on, and her father was holding her. She reflexively pulled herself out of his grasp; she still felt uncomfortable with people touching her.
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