Page 56 of Saving Barrette

“But he asked what I would have done if Remy hadn’t interrupted us.”

“Remind me to thank Remy,” I growl, trying not to interrupt her, but failing.

She continues, a small downturn to her lips. “He said he would have tried to fuck me, and something clicked in my head. The hat. I remembered seeing a purple hat.”

Rage rolls through me in waves, drowning my self-control I breathe in and out again, desperately grasping for some sort of composure for her sake. “You need to file the police report tomorrow,” I growl.

Her voice is timid, like a child admitting their fears when she whispers into my chest, “I’m scared.”

I cup her cheek hoping she senses the sincerity behind my words. “It’s going to be hard, but I know you can do it,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I will be by your side through all of it. I won’t leave.”

She sighs, her head against my chest now. My arms wrap around her, pulling her tighter. “Thank you.”

I hold out hope that we may have suffered and the road still won’t be easy, but we’re at least holding our own as the play clock winds down.

In downtown Olympia, there’s a police station. It’s in the middle of the city, tucked away next to restaurants and a falling economy. Inside it, I sit at a table next to a woman who calls herself a sexual assault advocate. It took me a year and a half, but I’m here, ready to take back the control. I won’t let them take anything else from me.

The officer, a male one, hands me a box of tissues and asks me to tell him what happened. As if I remember, as if Iwantto remember.

They ask questions and expect answers.

What I remember? A hat. A tattoo. Swabs in my vagina and needles for shots. The feeling of everything inside me being silent, because my words meant nothing. I remember looking at a form and seeing the wordsRape Victimin bold black letters and my control over everything I was going through was an illusion. My struggle was internal, an unseen battle I couldn’t put words on, until,untilI walked into the doors of that police station.

It didn’t matter that the cop asked me questions like, what I was wearing and if I had been drinking, if I was flirting and maybe led him on, to finally, did I ever verbally say no?

I sigh and state the facts. The only one that matters as far as I was concerned. “My denial, my no, my fucking voice went unheard, and that’s all that matters.”

He nods, takes notes, but it’s his demeanor that upsets me. I shouldn’t be made out to be the villain here. I did nothing wrong.

I stare at the cop and think, why would he and how could he assume I’d asked to have my face smashed with a rock or raped in a forest? I shake and cry, and then eventually yell, “I may have been drunk, but that fucking report, the blood they took from me in the hospital had been tainted.”

An official police report is filed that afternoon, and Asa’s dad helps me hire an attorney. He requests for a DNA sample from Roman. His attorney immediately responds back, why’d I wait so long to file the police report. Is it because the accused has an upcoming bowl game? Did I want revenge because he broke up with me in my dorm room two weeks ago ending our two-year relationship?

I gasp and stare at my attorney who I barely know. “We’ve never dated.Ever.”

He nods and gives me a look of understanding. “He’s probably panicking. From here, we’ll present our case to the judge and ask for an arrest warrant to be issued.”

Are you laughing? I am, because that’s the defense Roman gives when asked to give a DNA sample.

Because Roman refuses the test, denies any involvement, no arrest is made, and he’s cleared to play in the game Saturday afternoon.

It could take weeks, if not longer. For now, he’s free to—all joking aside—roam about the country.

It’s hours later, on Friday morning and I’m standing in the police station with Asa’s dad. I look up at the gray sky. With knots in my stomach and barely able to walk, I never thought I’d be strong enough to report it. But I do, and I did it because justice, even if it’s only internal, is the right thing to do.

I reach in my pocket to the note Asa gave me before he left this morning.

I can’t be there with you, but I’m with you, always. I go where you go. – Asa

A rush of serenity hits me. If it hadn’t been for him, I’m not sure I would have done this and I have him to thank.

FRIDAY EVENING, Imake an appointment with my therapist. Asa is at his mandatory dinner with his team, and though I want to see him, it’s not an option tonight.

So I go to my therapist. I haven’t talked much about Lexi, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been an important part of the last year and a half. She has been.

It’s been a month since I’ve last seen her, so I start with the new developments with Roman. She encourages me and assures me it’s the right thing to do.

Then I tell her about Asa. Out of everything I’ve told her, it’s my relationship with Asa she’s concerned about. He’s always a topic of conversation with us. I understand why, I do, but I also think without him, I wouldn’t have even gone to therapy in the first place.

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