Epilogue I
Declan, A few months later
I actually really like this room.
The police call it a “soft interview” room. They didn’t say that to me, but I heard them tell the officer to take me to one of the soft interview rooms when I first came to report what happened to me.
It’s supposed to be more welcoming—softer—than the interrogation rooms. It’s filled with overstuffed comfy chairs and a large sofa, all of which are splashed with warm light from the various lamps scattered around the room.
I dig the toe of my scribbled on converse into the floral rug below my feet.
Javier reaches over on the sofa we’re sitting on, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “It will be okay.”
I rip my hand out of his and run it through my hair. “You don’t know that,” I bite out.
I immediately regret it, and lean back to blow a breath toward the ceiling.
He’s been nothing but supportive. Helpful. Kind. Anything I could ever want in a boyfriend.
And I just reward him by lashing out.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I chant, grabbing onto his hand again and bringing it to my lap. “It’s just—it’s all fucking stressful.”
I look over at his face then. He’s cut his curls shorter since we graduated, it allows you to see more of his Grecian god-like face. The sharp jaw. The balanced proportions. All of it leads you to his eyes. The color of chestnuts. Holding no signs of contempt or irritation from my outburst.
He rubs his thumb along the top of my fingers. “You don’t have to apologize to me, mi amor.” Raising my hand, he gently kisses it. “I’m here for you.”
Detective Lancaster comes through the door, dressed in her usual ensemble of a sleek ponytail and black pantsuit.
She smiles warmly at us. “Good morning, Declan.” She nods to Javi. “Javier. So glad you could both come down and see us. How’s your day going today?”
“Well—” Javi starts, but I cut him off.
“Nope. Can’t do it.” I shake my head wildly. “No small talk today. I need to know why you called me down here. Can you press charges or not?”
Javi rubs his hand up and down my back while Detective Lancaster raises her brow in surprise.
“Fair enough,” she says, dropping a beige folder on the coffee table in front of us and taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.
She folds her hands in her lap before flicking her eyes back up to me.
“Well, we told you that we weren’t really sure if we could prosecute.
A lot of the evidence was circumstantial.
We haven’t been able to obtain a copy of the video, yet.
But I’m sure it’s out there somewhere. We don’t have any toxicology results to corroborate that you were drugged.
So a lot of this is built on his word versus yours. ”
I feel myself grinding my teeth back and forth, listening to her slowly dismantle my story.
She continues after a rough swallow. “That doesn’t mean that we think you’re making it up, Declan. We just need more concrete proof to pursue the charges against Carter Hayes.”
“I know that,” I say, trying to keep my voice pleasant and agreeable—but I honestly don’t think it works. “So, what’s new then? Why am I here?”
She nods slowly. “I’m sure you all recall seeing this story break a month or so ago.”
Of course I did.
Everyone did.
It was right at the end of school.
Before that, I had wrestled for weeks with the idea of telling the police what happened to me.
At first, I’d been very against it. I didn’t want to deal with it. Relive it.
But I kept thinking about what Carter had said to me.
He thought there was nothing wrong with what happened. He outright denied what he did. And the more time that’s gone by, the more I’m convinced that he did drug me. It makes the most sense. It explains every question I had lingering in my head after that night.
And then it was like a light switch flicked on in my head—completely changing my outlook.
Fuck this guy. He’s not getting away with this. I’m not fucking letting it go.
So I filed a report.
I had come home from the police station that same day dejected, but not necessarily surprised that they weren’t sure of how much they could do.
Javier had been there for me. Holding me close and gently rocking me while we sat on our log, the sunlight streaming in from the trees as I recounted everything I had told them.
After I was finished, I couldn’t help but be caught up in the expression on his face. Like he was thinking too hard about something.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked quietly as I laid my head back down on his shoulder.
“Nothing, munequito.”
I lifted my head to give him a flat look. “Don’t lie. Not you, please.”
He sighed, pursing his lips for a moment before nodding. “Okay, fine. I want to do something.”
I furrowed my brow. “Like what?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
I shot up off the log, arms crossed over my chest. “Why the hell not?!”
He smiled and tried to pull me back to him, but I scooted away. “Because I don’t think you’ll let me do it.”
“I probably won’t,” I retorted with a stomp of my foot.
He rose to his full height, towering over me as he reached down to stroke my cheek. “I need you to try and trust me.”
“But—”
He placed a finger over my lips, which I immediately bit.
Hissing through his teeth, he pulled his hand back to shake out the pain. “Munequito,” he warned, his voice low and growly before it softened again. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. But I think it could help your case.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, tilting my head to the side. “How?”
He looked up at the sky, pondering the thought for a moment before he opened his mouth again, “Carter… said something to me. The night of my arrest.”
“What did he say?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t want to tell you in case I’m wrong.”
I stood there for a while, watching his eyes and listening to the sounds of the woods around us. “I can trust you?” I asked.
He leaned down to place a kiss on my forehead. “Always, mi amor.”
It wasn’t for a few more days that I noticed the effects of what he had done.
I walked into school and everyone had their phone out. Chatting. Running. It was a fucking madhouse.
I had tried to squash down the eerie deja vu feeling, finding it way too similar to how I felt that Monday morning after the video had circulated.
I walked up to where Landon and Grant were canoodling against their lockers. “Uhh, what’s going on with everyone?” I asked hesitantly.
Neither of them said anything, but they did give each other a look. A look that might as well cut my stomach open and spill out the contents.
“If someone doesn’t tell me what the fuck is going on right now, I will burn this school to the ground,” I said with an angry wag of my finger at both of them.
“Munequito.” I whipped around to find Javier walking up to us, a smile on his perfect face as he threw his arm around my neck and pulled me in for a messy kiss.
A few people took a cursory glance, but most people were used to it ever since we came back to school after his arrest and he picked me up in front of everyone, yelling, “Declan Turner belongs to me!”
It was some real caveman shit that made me roll my eyes.
I still let him fuck me in the locker room after, though.
“When I show you, remember that you said you had trusted me,” he said as he pulled me away from our friends, down a less crowded hallway and took out his phone.
Dread sunk to the bottom of my stomach as he turned the screen toward me.
A news article.
Carter Hayes, Son of Buildman Construction Co. CEO, Questioned for Alleged Date Rape
My eyes widened. “What the fuck!?”
“Wait. Wait,” he said quickly, using his hands to steady me. “Before you get upset, I made sure they didn’t include your name.”
“Everyone will know.” My heart rate picked up. The room started to spin.
“I did it because… because I think there are more.”
“More of what?”
“More survivors. I don’t think he did this only the one time.”
Survivors. Because that’s what I had come to know myself as. I survived this assault. It was a word I was just coming to terms with, and Javi has adopted as well.
I wasn’t really sure what to think. That hadn’t occurred to me. That there were more. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach that I was pretty sure I didn’t love.
I’m really fucking tired of having revelations about that night.
“I—um—Wh-what makes you think that?” I managed to stammer out of my mouth.
He took a big breath and held onto my cheeks.
“When I was—” He paused to search for the right word.
“Attacking him like he fucking deserved. He said something that didn’t feel right.
It stuck out to me and has been gnawing at me ever since.
He said that you wanted it, which of course is stupid and disgusting, but then he also said ‘they all wanted it.’”
“They all wanted it,” I repeat after him, trying to make sense of what feels like a jumbled mess in my head.
“Yeah. So, if there are more, maybe this story will help them come forward.”
Tears prickle my eyes as I now sit in front of Detective Lancaster, the images of what Javier did for me running through my mind.
The realization that she could tell me that it helped zings through me, closely followed by the opposing thought that she could be telling me that no one has come forward.
“I recall the story, yes,” I tell her.
“Well,” she starts hesitantly, opening her folder and shuffling some papers around.
“We’ve had some other survivors come forward.
They have filed their own reports about what happened to them, which are very similar to your account of that night.
” She clears her throat. “With all of these instances, we feel confident that there’s a strong enough case to pursue charges against Carter Hayes. ”
I feel Javier squeeze my hand. I want to look over at him and smile, but I feel paralyzed. Stuck between two polarizing sensations.
This is good. This is what we wanted. This will help Carter pay for what he did.
But I can’t get past the feelings of shock and disgust commingling inside of me right now.
“Declan? Are you alright?”
Detective Lancaster’s concerned face comes back into view, watching me. Waiting for me to say something.
“How many are there?” I ask.
“Six.”
“Wow. Okay.”
Javier squeezes my hand again, bringing his other to rest on top.
When I don’t say anything else, Detective Lancaster continues. “It looks like they all occurred after your assault,” she says as she flips through the documents in front of her.
“So… I was the first?”
Looking up at me, she softly says, “That’s what it seems like right now.” She pauses a moment. “They’d like to meet you, if you’re up for it.”
My body startles a bit. “They’re here?”
She nods. “Some are local. Some flew in to make their statements.”
“And they want to meet me?” I ask incredulously.
She nods again.
“Munequito.”
I turn to Javi, his brown eyes instantly washing me with calm. “You don’t have to. You can always say no.”
“Of course,” Detective Lancaster chimes in.
I smile at Javi and give him a quick kiss before standing out of my seat. “I’d like to,” I tell the room.
A lot more is said, but I don’t really follow along. I nod when I think I’m supposed to and say the occasional okay.
Detective Lancaster stands too, beginning to lead me out of the room.
I look back at Javier. He’s got his charming half-smile on, watching me go.
Suddenly overtaken by the urge, I switch directions and run back into his arms, holding him tightly. “Thank you,” I whisper. “This is because of you.”
“I’d do anything for you, munequito.”
We untangle ourselves and then I’m walking with Detective Lancaster, down a long hallway until we’re standing in front of a door.
She places her hand on the knob. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” I reply, trying to keep a steady voice.
She swings the door open ahead of me, revealing a room similar to the one I just came from. Big, comfy furniture. Warm light. Cozy and inviting all around.
Six people have pulled their chairs around the coffee table. Their heads were huddled close together—until the door opened. Now they’re all looking at me.
We all look to be about the same age. Two other men and four women.
No one says anything. I don’t hear anyone talking in the hall either. In the building at all.
It’s like all the noise in the world stopped.
“Declan?”
My eyes snap to the one who spoke. It’s one of the other guys. He’s a little bit bigger than me with dark hair.
I feel a little dumb at the moment, so all I do is nod.
They flick their eyes at each other, some type of unspoken conversation going on, before they all stand.
And walk toward me.
It happens in slow motion, and I can only watch and wonder what they’re about to do. I’m still wondering, even as they collectively put their arms around me.
At first, I don’t think I like it. But I let it happen. Maybe they need it. We’ve all been hurt by this asshole.
I’m still thinking that it’s them who need this when tears start rolling down my face.
I close my eyes and feel every ounce of what’s happening right now.
I don’t exactly know how this case will play out. After all, he’s an attractive, rich white guy. He could just get a slap on the wrist. Or nothing at all.
But right now, surrounded by strangers who I share this unique, terrible experience with, I know I’ll be okay with whatever outcome happens.