26. VANESSA
VANESSA
Paris drops me off at my place, but he doesn’t linger, not even after I beg him to come inside. I look out the window and watch him leave with tears in my eyes. He swore he wasn’t angry with me for lying, but my heart tells me otherwise. I didn’t trust him. Now the guilt is consuming me.
Heather walks into the living room. “What happened this time?”
Wiping my cheeks, I turn around. “Fucking Ryan happened.”
Her face is a cold mask as she studies me. “Are you talking about the TikTok video?”
“You’ve seen it?”
“I don’t think there’s a soul on campus that hasn’t seen it. What happened to your face?”
Shit, I forgot that Heather didn’t see me yesterday. I touch the cut, which, mercifully, Lydia didn’t rip open again. “Ryan.”
Heather’s blue eyes turn as dark as a stormy sky. “He did that to you? When?”
“Yesterday. He stole my phone while I was texting Paris and found out about us. When I tried to get my phone back, he pushed me. I fell and hit my face on a bench.”
“And you still didn’t report him?” Heather’s voice rises, and I wince.
“I didn’t have a chance, okay? I’m going to, but I was a fucking mess yesterday, and then Paris showed up. I couldn’t tell him what happened. He’d probably have flipped and committed murder.”
Heather puts her hands on her hips and glowers. “Now Ryan has that TikTok video. Anything you do will seem like a revenge plot.”
“That’s probably why he did it—to discredit me. But there were a few people around when he pushed me, and one guy helped me get rid of him.”
“Good. Will the guy confirm your story?”
“I think so. You might know him. He’s a Pike pledge.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What’s his name?”
“Philip Meester.”
She squints as if she’s thinking hard about it. “God, I don’t know if I remember him. But if he hopes to become a Pike, he will cooperate.”
Heather has been dating Leo for a long time. I don’t really get the sense that they’re crazy in love like Paris and I are, but whatever they have going on seems to work for them.
“Okay, get ready. I’m taking you to the police station now.”
“What?” My eyes bug out while my heart leaps into my throat and gets stuck.
“You said you were going to report Ryan. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to prove he did anything. Time is not your friend now that Paris knows he hurt you again.”
She’s right. Paris will do something stupid.
I know it deep in my bones. Nausea hits me suddenly and so violently that I don’t have time to run to the bathroom or the kitchen sink.
I puke into the vase that holds the flowers Paris gave me.
There isn’t much to spew, since, thanks to the altercation with Lydia, I didn’t eat lunch.
When I’m done emptying the contents of my stomach, Heather offers me a napkin.
I wipe my mouth, and then say, “I know what I have to do. I’m just afraid no one will believe me.”
She narrows her eyes. “Do you seriously think you were Ryan’s first victim? Trust me, the moment you report him, more girls will come out of hiding and do the same. I know at least two that I suspect were victimized by him.”
I blink fast as I process her words. “How would you know that?”
“I’m head cheerleader, and I’m dating the president of a fraternity. I run in different circles than you, and drunk girls talk.”
“Okay, but since when do you have information that Ryan is a bastard?”
Her shoulders sag as she sighs. “Don’t hate me, but I heard those rumors while you were dating him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I shriek.
“A few reasons. I didn’t know if they were true, and Ryan seemed to treat you well. And you needed to get over Paris.”
I cover my face with my hands. “I had to go and pick the worst sort of distraction from him.”
“I don’t blame you for going for Ryan. He’s the exact opposite of Paris—clean cut, and attractive in a cold way. In hindsight, he has the looks of a serial killer. But enough stalling. Go take a shower and get ready so we can nail that son of a bitch.”
“Okay.”
I head to my room, and when I’m alone, I call Paris. Maybe if he knows I’m going to report Ryan right now, it’ll stop him from doing something stupid.
He doesn’t answer my call, and the invisible knife stabbing my chest moves deeper.
I sit on my bed, barely able to breath as I type a message to him.
My hands are shaking, and I have to retype words several times to get rid of the typos.
By the time I set down my phone and stare at the bedroom’s closed door, I’m spent.
The desire to curl up in a fetal position again and not move for hours is overwhelming.
But I have to find the strength to do the right thing. Ryan must be stopped.
* * *
I’m a bundle of nerves as I sit across from the police officer taking my statement. It’s a woman, but still, I feel like she’s judging me and not believing a word that comes out of my mouth.
“Tell me again why you didn’t report the assault as soon as it happened?”
“How many times are you going to ask my sister that?” Heather butts in. “Honestly, it’s no surprise victims of sexual assault don’t report it.”
“I didn’t want the stigma.” I answer the cop before she decides to arrest Heather. “I know it’s not a good excuse, but that’s what I was thinking at the time.”
“And then you encountered your ex twice after he allegedly assaulted you.”
She keeps using that word— allegedly —and it’s setting my teeth on edge. It takes all my willpower not to lash out at her like Heather is doing.
“Yes. The first time I was with my teammate, Sadie Clarkson, and the second time was when he caused this.” I point at the cut on my face.
“And you said Philip Meester witnessed the altercation?”
“That’s correct.”
“We’re going to need his contact details to confirm the story.”
“Isn’t part of your job getting his information?” Heather asks, not hiding her annoyance.
The lady cop gives her a nasty look but mercifully doesn’t offer a retort.
“There’s something else you should know,” I cut in. “Ryan recently posted a TikTok video making accusations about me.”
That piques the cop’s interest. She sits straighter and arches one of her brows. “What kind of accusations?”
“He said that I cheated on him with Paris Andino, the guy who stopped the assault, and that it’s been going on for years. That’s a lie. I didn’t start dating Paris until after I broke up with Ryan.”
“I see.” She switches her gaze to her desktop and types away. “Does he have any proof that he’s telling the truth?”
“How could he have proof?” My voice rises an octave. “He’s lying.”
“I have to ask the tough questions, Miss Castro. Since the Me Too movement started, there’s been a rise in reports of sexual assault, but unfortunately, some of those claims have been false.”
“Oh, so we now have to blame a good initiative for that?” Heather chimes in. “Watch Ryan come back to say he’s the victim.”
“He’s already doing that by claiming I cheated on him,” I grumble.
“I think I have everything I need on my end,” the cop says. “I’m going to ask you to follow my colleague, who’s going to take pictures of your injury.”
“Okay, and then what?”
“Then we’re going to interview your witnesses, although I have to say, Paris Andino’s testimony might not hold a lot of weight, since he’s in a relationship with you.”
“That’s bullshit,” Heather blurts out.
The cop gives her another stern look. I’m surprised she didn’t have Heather arrested yet. She’s really pushing this cop’s buttons.
“I also agree that it isn’t fair,” I say. “I wasn’t dating Paris when Ryan decided that raping me was the way to handle our breakup. If Paris hadn’t been there, Ryan would have succeeded.”
“I understand your frustration. However, there isn’t any physical evidence of the first assault, so it will be your and Paris’s word against Ryan’s.
” She links her hands and leans forward.
“As horrible as it sounds, that cut on your face is the only solid proof we have that your ex has been abusive—that is, provided that your witness confirms your story.”
“So, I’m lying until a stranger says I’m not?”
“You could have tripped on your own and decided to use the accident to get back at your ex for the video,” the cop says matter-of-factly, like just being here wasn’t already difficult.
“Okay, but when you get the statement from the witness, are you going to arrest Ryan?”
“We’ll bring him in for questioning, but I have to say, I don’t think he’ll even warm the bench in a cell.”
“Has anyone ever told you how great you are at making victims feel safe and heard?” Heather pipes up.
“Lying is not in my job description. Ryan Watergate is from a prestigious family. Do you know how many guys like him stay in prison for any significant amount of time?”
“Maybe if the police did a better job collecting evidence, they would stay in prison,” Heather retorts.
The cop stands and signals someone behind us. That’s it. Heather has gone and done it. She’s getting arrested for pissing off a cop.
To my surprise, though, the cop didn’t call for backup. She’s called over the person who’s going to take my picture.
Before I follow the second cop, I turn to Heather. “Please try to keep your thoughts to yourself while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry. I’m done wasting my time.”
No exactly the answer I wanted, but when it comes to Heather, it’s the best I’ll get.
I follow the second cop—a short and chubby guy in his forties—down a narrow corridor and into a small room where there’s a backdrop and a professional camera already set up on a tripod.
“This won’t take long, sweetheart,” he says, sporting a kind smile.
I thought giving my statement to a female cop would make the process easier, but she turned out to be a mean witch. This guy is already much better. And he’s right—taking the pictures goes fast.
When we’re done, he asks, “Does it still hurt a lot?”
“Just a little.”
“And your ankle? Did you also hurt that when you fell?”
I shake my head. “No, that one was on me. Although, it was probably the reason I couldn’t avoid hitting my face on that bench when my ex pushed me.”
“We’re going to get him, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
I tilt my head. “That isn’t what your colleague said.”
“Don’t listen to Officer Sanchez. She’s a bitter old hag.”
His comment makes me laugh. “Thanks for saying that.”
He shrugs. “Well, someone has to say it. But don’t tell anyone I did. She’ll have my balls if she finds out.”
“Your secret is safe with me. What happens next?” I ask again, because I’d like to hear his answer.
“You’ll be assigned a detective who’s going to call you again to set up an interview. You’ll have to answer the same questions you already did, on top of more detailed ones.”
“Great. I can’t wait.”
“Don’t worry. The detective assigned to you will have experience dealing with your type of case.”
“That’s good to know.”
Fifteen minutes later, Heather and I walk out of the precinct. Despite the second cop’s assurances, I feel flat and depressed.
In a rare display of affection, Heather tosses her arm around my shoulders. “We’ll get him, sis. I promise you.”
“I wish I was as optimistic as you are. You heard that first cop. She didn’t believe a word I said. And if Ryan is arrested, I bet his lawyers will use the same arguments that she did.”
“Then we’ll find another way to get evidence against him.”
“Unless we catch him on camera, I don’t see how. I have zero faith anyone else will report him if I become a laughingstock at school.”
“We’ll think about it tomorrow. There’s another matter we have to take care of.”
“What?”
“We need to cut a bitch.”