Page 14 of Saving Barrette

His worried gaze moves to hers, his grip on my hand remaining strong and controlled but underneath the hold, I can tell by the sweat and the tremble to his fingers, he’s just as scared as I am.

Lucy opens the box and pulls out a sheet of paper that’s on top, her pen in her hand. “We called, but there was no answer. We haven’t been able to locate them.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat. “They’re in Spain for the summer.”

She nods. “We will get in touch with them.”

FOR HOURS, THEdoctor pokes, prods, swabs, and takes pictures of my body and assesses my injuries. They undress me in front of him, to keep evidence intact and run a blue light over my body. They measure bruises, cuts, and abrasions, evidence of the brutal beating I took not only psychologically, but physically. Dozens of reminders cover my arms and every inch of my body.

Through all of that, I focus on one person. Asa. He doesn’t react, he doesn’t look when I’m naked in front of him. His eyes never stray. They simply hold mine and reassure me that he came back for a reason. For me. He brought me here and without a doubt, saved my life. They ask questions and expect answers I don’t have. They record my responses. They want to know if I have any enemies? Did I suspect anyone? I have no memory of the night, other than drinking.

What’s the use? Would anyone believe me?

And then it comes down to, what do I do next? Do I report it to the police and hope that they believe my story? Hope that if they do find out who did this, they are in fact held accountable? You see it on the news all the time. Sexual assault victims pleading their case only to get nowhere after years of exhausting themselves both mentally and physically. I didn’t want to be a rape victim, let alone publicly known as one. As far as I’m concerned, nobody outside of this room will know about it.

“Would you like us to report this to the police?”

That’s when it hits me in the chest that it’s real. Sure, the exam made it feel real and a complete invasion of privacy. They photographed me completely naked! I cried through the entire exam thinking that if I hadn’t drank—none of this would have happened. None of it.

I shake my head. I shake it because I don’t know if I understand the meaning. “I… don’t want to report it,” I tell them, clinging to the blankets covering me. I want to hide under them, away from the world. I don’t want anyone to see me or hear my words.

Asa doesn’t say a word but by the look in his eyes, the flash of anger that hits them, I know he’s upset with me.

I squeeze my eyes shut because the confusion and pain are unbearable.

Lucy rubs my shoulder, and Asa stands, his chair screeching against the tile floor before hitting the wall with a bang. I jump, my breath catching, and I look at him. He gasps. “I’m sorry.” He sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair, gripping the back of his neck.

Lucy, who glares at him, then shifts her eyes to mine. “You have time to decide. This was the first step and gives you a longer statute of limitations to report it.”

I stare at the wall, past the doctors to the window. It’s morning. The sun’s streaming through a window in the upper left of the room. A memory hits me, but then fades just as quickly. It’s the one of Asa walking up the driveway, leaving last night, but now he’s here, holding my hand through a night I don’t remember.

She isn’t going to report it. All that and she isn’t going to fucking report it? I thought I knew anger when I found her, but the idea of whoever the son of a bitch was that did this, is going to run free, well, take a look at me. Do I look fucking calm?

It’s only when Barrette is being treated for STDs and given the morning after pill that I’m alone with my thoughts. She’s given a sedative to get some rest after they stitch her forehead up. I excuse myself and punch the wall in the bathroom.

I scream, I cry, and argue with her doctor that she should force her to do something. “You need to force her to do this! She has to report it!” I yell at him, my breathing out of control, my emotions all over the place. I can’t control my words or my actions.

He pulls me aside, caught off guard by my temper tantrum in the ER. I can tell by the slow turn of his head to Barrette’s room and the way he narrows his eyes at me that I crossed a line. The vein in his forehead protrudes as he attempts to hide his irritation with me. “You think forcing a victim of sexual assault is the right thing to do? You don’t think she’s been forced enough?”

It’s his use of the word “forced” that resonates with me and I begin to understand by the way his jaw hardens, he did that on purpose. My stomach leaps at the word. “But they’re going to get away with it if she doesn’t.”

He shakes his head, as if I’m just not getting it, and in a sense, I’m not. “This is her choice. And if you’re really her friend, you’re going to leave it as her choice.” His voice lowers and he leans in. “Barrette was raped. Brutally raped. Her denial, if there was one given her state of consciousness at the time, meant nothing to them. You forcing her to do something leaves you just as guilty as them.”

Before his words made sense, I think about hitting him. It’ll make me feel better, for sure, but with my luck, he’ll sue me and I’ll be in more trouble than I was back in Ohio. That scholarship to UW will be gone and I probably won’t see Barrette again because, well, I’ll be in jail. Hitting him won’t solve anything. Finding the motherfuckers who did this will, but then again, his words held meaning.

Forcing her to report this makes me just as guilty as them, and I know there has to be more than one. In my gut, I know it and regardless if she reports it, I’ll find who did this to her.

Reluctantly, I return to the room where Barrette is. It’s the middle of the afternoon, Cadence has been calling me nonstop. I didn’t realize she had my number, but it got out. Remember the guys who helped me to the car? Well, the rumor mill’s started. Everyone knows she’s been raped.

Barrette stares at me when Cadence shows up. She freaks out. “Who raped you?”

I’ve never wanted to hit a girl until now, and it’s Cadence because the moment she says the word rape, Barrette shuts down. She refuses to talk, eat, look at anyone, or respond in any way other than she wants to leave and wants me to take her home.

I pull Cadence aside, much like the doctor did to me, only this time I’m not as subtle as he was with me. “Nice going,” I mumble, leaning on the wall.

“What the fuck happened? I left her last night, and she was drunk and sitting on Xander’s lap. I’ll fucking kill him if he had something to do with it.”

I draw in a breath, trying to calm myself from doing just that. “I don’t know if it was him. When I found her, he was passed out near the fire.”

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