6. Tessa
6
TESSA
D anicia put me at ease. Her eyes were kind and her smile wasn’t one of pity, but of sympathy.
“I know exactly how this feels,” she said after Romeo introduced us.
I was glad he left the room, but I was nervous to see him go. Since he’d stopped those three men from continuing their attack and halted them from raping me any further, I considered him a source of security. With Danicia, though, I instinctively knew that I would be safe under her watchful care, and in a different way from what Romeo could offer.
He’d cleaned up my hands and knees from when I fell on the pavement, but I wanted the peace of mind of medical assistance for the rest of my injuries. “You do?” I asked her, shocked that this tall, fit Black woman could’ve ever been raped.
Romeo had to have told her about my situation when he was changing out the bloody water, but I wasn’t offended. I wasn’t worried that he’d spoken about me with a stranger. Not when she seemed so calm and confident.
“I was. Many times.” She sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, not touching me and giving me space.
I appreciated her respect for distance. Still, the topic that we spoke about cut through my soul.
I was raped. Each time I reminded myself of the cruel fate that my mind wanted to dismiss and ignore, an involuntary defense mechanism, I shivered and fought tears all over again.
“If not for Romeo and his people, I would’ve endured worse.”
The long scar along her jawline suggested that she’d already suffered something gruesome. I supposed in a small way, I was fortunate that those three men hadn’t tried to hurt me sadistically with a knife or gun.
“It just seems so…” Wrong. Horrible. Shameful. “Surreal,” I said at last. “You always hear about statistics and know that this sort of thing is possible, but it seemed like a remote and faraway thing that wouldn’t touch me.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
I didn’t want to talk about it. She’d listen. I knew she would. Romeo said she was an ER doctor, not a shrink. But I wanted so badly to tamp down the thought of what happened to me. I wanted to smush it down and ignore it all for as long as I could.
“How did you meet Romeo?” I asked instead.
She didn’t react to how swiftly I changed the subject.
“He was very critical in helping me get out of a challenging predicament.”
Hmm. Another vague reply.
“Would you like me to examine you, Tessa? If you’re concerned about?—”
I laughed once, a hysterical bark of a sound. Then I sniffled and nodded. “I’m concerned about everything. But I’m…”
She pulled out a mini bottle of whiskey. “This might ease your nerves.”
“Thank you.” I seldom drank. Nina and I sometimes shared a beer or two after work, but I needed that numbing buzz. I opened the sealed bottle and took a quick drink, hoping the burn down my throat would quickly turn into a foggy mindset that would further dull my memories.
As Danicia examined me, carefully and telling me every step of the way what she was doing, I tried to block out the fear and stifle my tears. It was similar to a yearly check-up with the gynecologist, yet not.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently.
I didn’t, but some obedient part of me recognized her as a doctor, as a figure of medical authority, and the dam broke. Like someone else was narrating my life, I told her in a monotone, unattached way how the three men had raped me, taking turns to put themselves in both of my holes.
“Only one entered me… there…” My pulse raced as she cleared up the blood near my anus.
“With his fingers or his penis?” she asked clinically.
“Both? I shut down and…”
“I understand. The tear is superficial,” she said, “which will heal faster.”
I didn’t even want to think about how I’d heal. I felt so filthy inside out that I wasn’t sure I ever would.
“They used condoms?” she asked.
I shrugged, losing my control on blocking it all out mentally.
“I see no evidence of semen,” she explained. “And that’s very good.”
I choked on a weak laugh. “Good, huh?”
“I imagine they were cautious of STDs.” She smirked. “Selfish motherfuckers. But that’s a blessing for you. Less risk of anything passed to you.” As she finished up, she sighed heavily. “I’ll run some labs and make sure, anyway. Blood work, these swabs I collected. I’ll cross every T and dot every i.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have a family doctor you’d like this information to be shared with?” She took off her gloves as I sat up and lowered my legs beneath the sheet.
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want my parents to know.” And with Mom working for the largest healthcare network in the city, she’d find out quickly. If not from insurance claims, then from snooping on my chart.
“I have my ways to circumvent the insurance forms and?—”
“No. Please.” As I relaxed in the bed, the exhaustion of the long day and night added to the warmth from the whisky. I yawned, but afterward, I raised my brows in surprise that I could be tired.
“Okay.” Danicia nodded as she continued to explain how to care for my wounds, and she set out a few things from her bag that she brought with her. Antibiotics, salves, creams, painkillers, and another bottle of whiskey. She wasn’t a conventional doctor, that was for sure, giving me alcohol should I want it.
I listened the best I could as she explained how to tend to my wounds, and with her mention of the house being guarded, I sank further under the illusion that I was safe here. Even if I wasn’t, I was too weak to fight this fatigue.
After she backed out of the room and shut the door, I closed my eyes. Just for a moment. One minute turned into more, and I slept on and off for so long that I was disoriented when I woke. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, signaling that I’d slept in for a long time, a rarity I never had a chance to enjoy.
Waking up in an unfamiliar place was jarring, but once I spotted the lampshade that I’d zoned out looking at during Danicia’s examination last night, I tried to slow my heart rate. My blood pressure would likely stay high for a long time, but I attempted to convince myself that I was safe here. I hadn’t been moved. No one, it seemed, had come into this room and bothered me. I was still in the sleep shorts and panties Danicia had offered me. My clothes were intact.
That’s a lot more than what I can say about last night.
All the memories rushed through me, and I counted my breaths with the square method to avoid being locked down in fear again.
It didn’t work. The more I tried to resist panicking as I woke up more clear headed after a night of sleep, the deeper the horrors persisted. Getting over the trauma of what those men did to me would take more than a single night of sleep. I knew that. But I spiraled and freaked out.
In this room, I was grateful for my privacy, but I hated that I was alone at the same time. I couldn’t go home to my parents. I couldn’t even bear facing them at all, certain they’d judge and punish me for “letting” myself get raped.
A fleeting wish came of calling Nina. She was my best friend, and this was exactly what friends were supposed to be there for—talking down panic attacks. But she wasn’t here. I hadn’t been in contact with her. And I felt ashamed to even tell her about what happened.
Why? Why is this stupid sense of humiliation so strong? I hadn’t done anything to get raped. I fought. I pushed back. But I was hit with such a hard dose of shame.
A knock sounded on the door, and it jolted me from staying in my mind.
“Tessa?”
I furrowed my brow at Romeo’s voice, unsure how to face him, either. “Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
I winced. It was his house. He didn’t owe me anything, not even my privacy after all he’d done. Stopping those men. Getting me to safety. Cleaning my cuts and getting me medical aid.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him, but I felt even worse to be rude and shut him out.
My God. I’ll be a people-pleasing, obedient girl until I die. I rolled my eyes.
“Did Danicia help?” he asked as he entered and sat in the chair next to the bed. He roved his gaze up and down me as I sat up in the bed, but it wasn’t a creepy stare. More like something a concerned friend might do.
“Yes. She did. Thank you.”
He nodded, seeming pleased about my reply. “She’s on call should you need anything else.” Glancing at the array of materials and medications she’d left on the nightstand, he added, “Even to help with the wounds and bandages.”
I held up my hands, showing him the gauze. “Thanks. This should help a lot.”
“I want to help,” he said, gentle and sincere. “Please know that.”
Why? Emotions clogged my throat, and I breathed through the sting of pending tears.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, so observant to notice I was about to bawl again.
I never cried. Never. But this time, it wasn’t the memories of my trauma that got me like this. It was him. That he cared. Following the solo attempt of talking myself down from dwelling on the flashbacks, his genuine concern was touching.
“No one does.”
“What?”
“No one ever helps me.” Nina used to. We helped each other the best we could, but we dealt with the same hand of cards and weren’t in any position to really improve each other’s lives.
“I will.”
I wiped my cheek, hating the tear that slipped down. “Why? We’re strangers. I’m?—”
“You’re a woman I want to help. And I will.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. “I have, and I won’t stop.”
I stared at the angry gash on his knuckles. “Is that from punching that man last night?”
He nodded.
Sick anger built stronger within me, chasing out the despair a bit. “I wish you hit him harder.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you mean that?”
I nodded.
“Then it’s my pleasure to let you know he’s dead. All three of them are.”
I held my breath, letting his simply stated words filter through my mind a few times. I wanted justice, but that was fast. And grisly. “Dead?”
“Yes.”
I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, staring at him in a very new light. Strangers. We definitely were strangers, but I was plugging in more details about him.
He killed those men. He was a murderer.
Yet, I wasn’t afraid. “You…?”
He nodded.
“Holy shit.” I breathed it out in a rush, accepting his claim and letting it sink in.
I sat across from a killer. A murderer. A man who killed others was my rescuer. “Are you going to kill me?”
He snorted a laugh. “No.”
I licked my lips, feeling a rush to ask so many things but intimidated to speak at all. I'd never met a killer before. I didn’t associate with criminals.
But is he one? He wouldn’t tell me who he worked for, and I had so much to learn. But not right now.
“Will you…” I cleared my throat to get the words out. “Are you going to keep me here against my will?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I will do whatever you want me to do, Tessa.”
I gaped at him, wondering if he was joking.
“Just ask,” he prompted.
I sniffled, hit again with the need to break down.
No one, and I meant no one, had ever been that generous and considerate to me before.
“Can you…”
I heaved in a shaky breath.
“What, Tessa?” He furrowed his brow as he slid further to the edge of the chair.
“Can you just… hold me?” I asked, my heart cracking at how badly I needed that basic comfort.
Even from a deadly stranger like him.