Chapter 61
CECILIA
Julio offers to drive me home and I let him, not waking Gabriel up before I go. A sliver of guilt worms its way into my chest, but it’s better this way, I think. I need to talk to my parents and I can’t do that with Gabriel there, hovering.
If I woke him to say goodbye, I know he’d want to come with me. But I also know how he gets. Overprotective and overbearing. I’ll have enough of that coming from my parents. I don’t need it from him, too.
As I step through the front door of my house, the familiar scent of home envelops me, offering a fleeting moment of solace amidst the anxious energy that’s consumed my morning.
But even as I take refuge in the familiar surroundings, I’m not looking forward to the conversation I’m about to have.
I’m not ready.
My parents are waiting for me in the living room, their faces etched with worry and concern. And beside them stands a police officer, his presence a stark reminder of the events that unfolded less than twenty-four hours ago.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?" My mother's voice trembles with emotion as she rushes to my side, enveloping me in a tight embrace. “I’ve been so worried. They said you were attacked—” she chokes on a sob. “Oh, my god. What did he do to you?”
"I'm okay, Mom," I manage to tell her. “I’m fine.” Lie. “I’m okay.” She clings to me the way she did in the hospital. Before. Only this time, I didn’t try to take my own life. Someone else did.
I wince as her hold on me tightens, but I don’t have it in me to ask her to let go.
After more tears and whispered words, she finally releases me and reclaims her seat beside my father. She pats the space next to her, a silent encouragement to join them.
I don’t think I can have this conversation and look at them, so instead, I take the armchair kitty corner to the couch.
Thankfully, Mom doesn’t comment on my choice, but she doesn’t look happy about it.
Her eyes are glued to my face, horror spreading across her features as she takes in each splotch of blue and purple she can find.
It’s a good thing Gabriel’s sweats and oversized sweater hide the rest of my body from view.
With the way Mom is looking at me, I’m surprised she hasn’t insisted we go to the hospital.
Dad remains stoic, his gaze fixed on me with unwavering intensity. He’s trying to keep it together. This is his politician persona. But I can see the pain lurking beneath the surface, the silent anguish of a father who would do anything to protect his daughter.
For his benefit, I force out a small smile.
I hate this.
That I’ve inadvertently caused my parents more grief.
“Ms. Russo,” the officer begins. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”
“Sure,” I tell him, tucking my legs beneath me.
“Would you prefer to go somewhere more private—”
“She’s fine speaking here,” my dad interjects. There’s a knock on the door and my mom rushes to answer it. “And she won’t be answering any questions until her counsel has arrived.”
Mom ushers a man into the room. He’s vaguely familiar. Tall, mid-forties. His tan skin contracts nicely against his well-cut navy-blue suit.
I’ve met him before. Though only briefly. He works for Dad. I’ve seen him around on the campaign trail. “Cecilia, this is Mr. Ayala.” To him, Mom adds, “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”
My manners and the expectant looks on my parents' faces force me to stand up and shake Mr. Ayala’s hand before he moves on to shake the hand of the officer, handing him one of his business cards.
“Where are we?” Mr. Ayala asks, taking the last available seat.
The officer clears his throat. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” he says. “Ms. Russo isn’t under arrest. I’m just here to ask her a few questions. A lawyer isn’t needed for this conversation.”
“Officer—?” Mr. Ayala starts to interject.
“Koch,” the officer supplies.
“Ah, yes. Officer Koch,” Mr. Ayala acknowledges.
“While I’m aware Ms. Russo isn’t under arrest, it would be prudent that she has adequate representation.
” He turns to me, his expression softening.
“Cecilia, it’s just a precaution. Your parents want to make sure you're protected and that your rights are respected throughout this process.”
That’s uh, nice.
Officer Koch doesn’t agree, judging by his sigh. “Very well,” he says. “Is anyone else joining us today?”
“This is everyone,” Dad says.
He nods. “Alright then, we’ll begin.”
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for what I know will be a difficult conversation.
“In your own words, can you explain the events of yesterday afternoon, starting with the moment you arrived at the PacNorth campus pool?”
Opening my mouth, I answer his questions, doing my best to block out the tear-stained expression on my mother’s face as she processes my words. I try to keep my emotions in a box as I recount yesterday’s events.
How Austin grabbed me by the hair and held me underwater when tried to come up for air. That I hadn’t even known he was there until it was too late.
I mentioned Gregory Chambers and Parker Benson. How I saw them during the brief moments I was able to get some air. I stick close to the facts, leaving out what I was feeling. The terrified thoughts that’d run through my head.
And then I get to the moment help arrived.
I tell him about being pulled out of the pool.
About the guys saving me. I gloss over Gabriel beating Austin to a pulp, telling the officer I was too focused on catching my breath after being rescued to know what was going on around me.
Gabriel and the others will have their own questions to answer.
I won’t let my words contradict their story in any way.
“And what reason would Mr. Holt have for attacking you the way he did?”
I shake my head. “I don't know.”
“Is it possible that you may have inadvertently provoked—”
“I’d like to remind you, Officer Koch, that my client, Ms. Russo, was attacked. She is the victim here, not the aggressor. To suggest otherwise, that she provoked her attacker in some way, is inappropriate and beyond uncalled for.”
“I didn’t mean—” Officer Koch clears his throat.
“My apologies. I was only asking if there was something else that occurred prior to the assault that might help to explain why Austin Holt attacked you? We’re trying to uncover the young man’s motive for the assault and are experiencing some … difficulty.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I tell him. “I never did anything to Austin. Nothing to justify—” I wave a hand through the air. “All this.”
“Are you sure?” he pushes. “Have you had any prior altercations with him, or either of the other two men involved?”
Chewing my bottom lip, I hesitate. “Nothing related to—”
He cuts me off. “Austin’s family has implied that you’re fixated on ruining their son’s reputation. They claim false allegations have been made—”
“Stop!” I tell him. My heart pounds a rapid staccato in my chest. How does he know? He shouldn’t— No one else is supposed to know about that night.
My eyes snap to my parents, but all I see is confusion etched across their faces.
“I’m not trying to ruin Austin’s life,” I tell him. “I’ve never made false allegations against him.”
He flips through his notebook. “I have it here that allegations were made to PacNorth University’s—”
“It wasn’t false,” I cut him off, my chest heaving.
Thankfully, Mr. Ayala interjects. “I’d like a moment alone with my client.”
“That won’t be—” Officer Koch begins, but Mr. Ayala doesn’t let him finish.
“I’ll have to insist.” He pushes to his feet. “Ms. Russo, would you join me?”
Numbly, I follow him past our living room and down the hallway into my father’s study.
Sweat beads on my forehead, my palms clammy and slick. I feel dizzy, disoriented, as if the ground beneath me could give way at any moment.
Mr. Ayala closes the door behind us and my eyes snap to it. “Open,” I snap. Taking a breath, I try again. “Sorry,” I mutter. “But can we leave the door open?”
He scrutinizes me before cracking the door a fraction of an inch. Then he moves to the opposite side of the room, leaving a clear path for me to leave should I want to.
“Is this better?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes. Thank you.”
He leans against my dad’s desk, bracing himself on the edge. “I can’t adequately protect you if I don’t know the full story, so I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”
I’m not sure I have much of a choice, so I nod.
“Can you give me the short version of what Officer Koch was alluding to in there?”
“Austin, Parker, and Gregory raped me at a frat party last summer.”
He blinks. I’ve taken him by surprise.
“And you disclosed this information to …”
“PacNorth’s Administration,” I tell him. “I reported it in the Title Nine office.”
He nods. “And what came of it?”
Bitterness coats the back of my throat. “Nothing. They didn’t believe me.”
“And the police?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t go to them,” I tell him. “If the school didn’t believe me, I assumed no one else would.”
“Are your parents aware?”
I shake my head again. “No. I—” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t want them to know. It would break my mom.”
A flicker of sympathy softens the lines of his face.
“You’re aware this information is bound to come out?
There’s no way to keep this information secret given the recent assault against you.
The police are looking for a motive and won’t stop digging until they have one.
Austin’s defense will also use this information if they feel it can help their case.
There’s no keeping it quiet now. Do you understand? ”
A stone sinks to the pit of my stomach. I think I knew that already, but a part of me had hoped …
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I understand.”
“I’m going to need you to go back out there and tell Officer Koch about the first assault, in detail. Along with any other altercations that have occurred between then and what transpired yesterday. Can you do that?”
“Do I have a choice?” I mutter.
“Unfortunately, no,” he says. “Not if we intend for the charges to stick. I can request a few hours. At most, maybe a day. But you’ll need to make a statement, and it’s likely that you’ll be interviewed more than once by multiple officers.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Is there any way to do that without my parents around?”
“There is,” he says. “But in times like these, it’s often best to have a support system at your side. Your parents love you very much—”
“I know,” I tell him. “It’s just …” I chew on my bottom lip. “They’ve been through so much already. I don’t want to cause them any more pain.”
“Let them be there for you,” he suggests.
“It would cause more pain to be pushed away than to know everything that’s happened.
And forgive me for overstepping, but …” he tugs at his tie and purses his lips, almost like he’s struggling to find the right words to say, “I’ve been by your father’s side for several years now.
I know him pretty well and consider him a true friend. ”
I wait for him to continue.
“Your father was distraught when he learned you tried to kill yourself.”
My eyes water, and I quickly look away.
“He blames himself,” he tells me.
“He shouldn’t,” I whisper.
Mr. Ayala shrugs. “That may be. But parents often do. Especially when they can’t make sense of something. When they don’t have the full picture.”
I nod, understanding what he means.
“Alright,” I tell him. “They can stay.”
Mr. Ayala leads me back to the living room, and for the next hour, I tell Officer Koch and my parents everything that happened. Everything that’s been happening these past few months. I spill all my secrets. Even those I still believe are too painful for my parents to bear.