Chapter 4 #2
“Has this happened before?”
“When I was twelve. I’ve been on meds for it ever since. My dad thought I might need to have the dose adjusted.”
“Let me take a look at what you’re on now.” She clicks around on my chart and recites the name and current dosage for my prescription. “We could try another ten milligrams a day to see if that helps.”
“Okay.”
“Has there been any change in your diet or exercise in the last few weeks or anything else going on?”
I’ve barely eaten or left my room in three weeks, but I can’t tell her that. “No.”
Is she trained to know what happened just by looking at me? I want to run away, but if I do, where will I go? How will I explain my behavior to the doctor or my dad? I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, and all she’s done is type some stuff into a computer.
“Are you all right?” she asks, her brows furrowed with concern.
“I’m just… nervous.”
I want so badly to tell her the truth, but when I think of how evil those girls have been to me, I can’t. No one would believe me, and things would only get worse than they already are.
“Take a few deep breaths and try to relax. We’re just going to talk, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I have a routine questionnaire that goes over some basic things.”
I answer a bunch of questions about my health—age of first period, most recent period and a full depression screening, which I’ve been through before.
The questions bring back memories from when I was feeling so low I wondered how I could still be alive.
I hadn’t known then that it was possible to go even lower.
“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
I want to die on the spot. Can she tell if I am, and will she know if I’m lying?
“It’s okay, Denise. You can talk to me.”
As if a dam has burst, I start to cry so hard I can’t breathe or think or do anything other than cry.
She stands by my side, holding my hand as the emotional tsunami overtakes me. I suppose it was only a matter of time before it broke.
“I’ll get you some water.” She hands me another tissue. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returns with a plastic cup of water, she rubs my back and holds the cup while I take some sips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. How can I help?”
“You can’t. No one can.”
“That’s not true.”
I release a bitter laugh as I mop up my tears with a third tissue. “In this case, it is.”
“I’ve found that it helps to talk about whatever is weighing on you. When you share it with someone who can help, it takes some of the burden off your shoulders.”
Her words settle over me like a warm blanket. I want so badly to tell someone, but I’m terrified of the consequences.
“Would you have to tell my dad whatever I say in here?”
“Absolutely not. It’s between us, but I may encourage you to talk to him or someone else who can help you.”
“Am I pregnant?”
“I can’t say for certain without further testing.”
A sob erupts from my chest as my worst fears come true. “Can you get pregnant the first time?”
“Yes.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. I’ve been tempted to ask Google that question for weeks but was afraid of the answer. The health classes that covered such things were years ago now, and I can’t remember the details. Besides, I’ve had no need to know those details before now.
“Are you in a relationship with someone?”
“Yes, but he lives in Spain.”
She doesn’t respond to that, probably hoping I’ll say more.
“This… What happened… It wasn’t…” I can’t speak or breathe over the wave of emotion that jams my throat.
“Denise, were you raped?”
Here it is. The moment of truth. If I tell her, it’ll never again be just my secret—and his. Someone else will know.
She continues to run her hand in soothing circles over my back. “You’re in a safe place. Whatever you tell me will remain confidential unless you don’t want it to.”
“W…will you have to report it to the police?”
“Only if that’s what you want me to do.”
Another long moment of silence passes before I can’t hold it back any longer. “I was raped. Three weeks ago.”
“Do you know the person who assaulted you?”
I nod. “We go to school together.” I can’t believe the profound relief I feel at knowing someone else is aware of what happened to me.
“And it was your first time?”
“Y-yes.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Denise.”
“My friends call me Neisy.”
“Neisy.” She provides more tissues as I need them. “Were you injured?”
“I think. Maybe. It hurt for a long time after.”
“Would you consent to an exam so I can check to make sure you’ve healed properly?”
“I don’t… I don’t think I can do that.”
“That’s fine. It can wait.”
“Wh-what should I do?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What would you do?”
“I’d want him to pay for what he did to me.”
“No one would believe me. He’s everyone’s best friend, a star athlete and student. He’s supported his longtime girlfriend through cancer treatment. I’m new to the school as of last year, and they all hate me. It would be my word against his.”
“If you’re pregnant, the baby’s DNA would back up your story.”
I hadn’t thought of that, and for the first time, I feel a spark of hope that I might get justice for what was done to me. But then I consider what’ll happen if I accuse Ryder Elliott of raping me, and I shrivel into a ball of dread.
“I can’t report it. I just can’t. It would be a nightmare.”
“You’re the victim of a crime, Neisy, a crime that wasn’t your fault in any way.”
“The girls in my school would say I was asking for it. They decided on day one that I was a slut, and they’ve been awful saying things about me ever since.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that.”
I shrug. “Most of the time, I don’t care what they say because I know the truth. But this…this would be different. They grew up with him. They’d defend him and say it was impossible. They’d make me out to be a whore, and say I had it coming.” I shudder just thinking about it.
“All those things might happen, but you’d force him to defend himself against the charges in court. Even if he’s acquitted, the accusation would stay with him forever. You may also find you’re not the only one he’s attacked.”
That possibility has never occurred to me.
“Or, you may be the first but not the last.”
A surge of bile from my stomach burns my throat and makes me gag.
She hands me the cup of water, and I take several careful sips.
Someone knocks on the door.
She goes to answer it.
“Your patient’s father is asking if everything is okay.”
“Tell him we need a few more minutes.”
“Will do.”
She closes the door and leans back against it. “If you’d like, I can run a pregnancy test, so we’d know for sure one way or the other.”
“What does that involve?”
“A urine sample.”
“Um, okay. I guess so.”
“Take a minute and then meet me in my office across the hall. I’ll have everything ready for you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If I’m pregnant, do I have to discontinue my medication?”
“No, we don’t recommend that.”
“Oh, good. Okay.”
“I’ll be right across the hall.”
After she leaves the room, I go to the sink and splash some cold water on my face. Then I take two full minutes to breathe before I open the door and cross the hall to her office.
“Do you know how to do a urine sample?”
I nod. “I had bladder infections when I was younger.”
She hands me the antiseptic wipe and the container. “The rest room is two doors down on the left. I’ll wait for you here.”
The possibility that I could be pregnant is too big to consider.
What if Kane doesn’t believe I was raped and thinks I cheated on him?
How will I ever tell him about any of this?
Will he still love me when he finds out?
The possibility that he won’t is more than I can handle.
He’s been my rock and very best friend through everything for the last four years.
Even with an ocean between us, we’re still best friends.
I love him.
I cannot lose him.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I go through the motions of providing the sample.
I wash my hands and gasp at my ravaged reflection in the mirror.
My dad will know something terrible has happened.
One thing at a time, Neisy.
I deliver the sample to the doctor.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
When she returns ten minutes later, I can tell by her expression the test was positive.
My heart sinks as I’m filled with despair. “What do I do now?”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
“How can it be up to me? I don’t know what the hell to do about any of this.”
“Would your dad be willing to help?”
“He’ll die if he hears I’m pregnant, and then he’ll want to kill the person who did this.”
“He won’t, though.”
“I don’t know. He might.”
“I have two other children, and in this situation, my first thought would be for the well-being of my child and making sure she has whatever support she needs to get through this.”
“What if he doesn’t believe me about how it happened?”
“Why wouldn’t he? Have you lied to him before?”
“Once. In fifth grade. I said I wasn’t there when kids were making crank calls, but they had my voice on a recording. It took a long time for him to get past that.”
“You were much younger then. Have you lied to him since?”
“Not once ever. I was so sad that he was disappointed in me the first time. I never want him to feel that way again.”
“I’m sure he’s seen the effort you’ve made to be truthful.”
Shrugging, I say, “I guess. He’s often gone on deployment and stuff.”
“What about your mom?”
“She has some problems. She, um… She drinks. A lot.”
“I see.”
“You’d never tell her I said that, would you?”
“Never. Our conversations are confidential.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks. That would make her mad. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“Do you want me to ask your dad to come in so we can talk to him together?”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. Whatever you need, Neisy. I’m here for you.”
“You must have other patients.” I’m looking for any reason I can find to avoid having to tell my dad. “They’re waiting for you.”
“I asked my colleagues to cover for me, so I could help you.”
Her kindness has me in tears again. “That’s very nice of you.”
“It’s no problem.”
I’m sure that’s not true, but I appreciate the kindness that gives me the courage to take the next step. “I guess I have to tell my dad at some point.” It may as well be with the doctor there to help me.
“I’ll ask him to come in.”
“Will you…will you ask him not to freak out? That won’t help.”
“I’ll do that.”
She leaves the room and a few minutes later I hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, one of which I recognize as my dad’s.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asks, his voice louder now.
“She’d like to speak to you about something upsetting, and she’s asked that you refrain from reacting until she’s told you everything.”
“What the hell? Where is she?”
“Right this way.”
The doctor comes in, followed by my dad, who stops short at the sight of my red, puffy face.
“Neise. Honey. What’s going on?”
“Would you please have a seat, Captain Sutton?”
He doesn’t want to, but he takes the seat next to mine and reaches for my hand. “Whatever it is, honey, we’ll work it out.”
That sends more tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
I look to the doctor, who nods in encouragement.
“A few weeks ago,” I say softly, “I went to a party in Land’s End with some kids from school. It was at Houston’s house. Remember him from the restaurant?”
“Sure, I do. He’s a nice kid.”
“Yes, he is. Normally I don’t go to stuff like that because, well, you know…
But he’s my friend, and I wanted to go.” I take a tissue from the box the doctor pushes across her desk to me and wipe my eyes.
“While I was there, another kid I know from school said he wanted to talk to me about his girlfriend, who I know from a class last year. She’s been really sick, and I wanted to hear about how she’s doing.
I went with him down this path away from the others.
I, um… He said some things about how I look at him, which weren’t true. Then he pushed me down and—”
“Oh no,” Dad says on a long gasp. “Neisy.”
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Sobs shake my body. “I swear I never did anything to encourage him.”
His arms are around me so fast I hardly seem them coming. “Shhh, it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”
As I breathe in his familiar scent and wallow in the warmth of his embrace, I’m relieved all over again because he knows, and he believes me.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t want to tell you that.”
“Denise is afraid you might harm him.”
“I swear on your life I won’t harm him physically.”
I’m well aware there’s nothing he could say that would mean more. I’ve always known I’m the most important thing in his life. “Ryder Elliott.”
“The football player?” He sounds as shocked as I felt when it happened.
“Yeah.”
To the doctor, he says, “Are you required to report this?”
“Not without Denise’s consent, and her concern is that it would be her word against his. It happened weeks ago.”
“So there’s no evidence.”
“There may be one piece of evidence.” She looks to me to confirm that.
He pulls back so he can see my face. “What evidence?”
“I’m pregnant.”
For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the expression on his face when that sentence registers. It’s a look of complete shock I’ve never seen before or since.
“Pregnant.”
“Yes,” the doctor says, “and the baby’s DNA could be used to confirm Denise’s claim from about nine to twelve weeks of pregnancy onward.”
Dad drops his head into his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
He pulls himself together and looks at me with a fierce expression. “I don’t want you to be sorry. This was done to you, and I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
“Yes, it is! This is my life. You can’t just go rogue and cut me out of it.”
“I’ll have a talk with Ryder’s father to start with.”
“If I may…”
He looks up at the doctor.
“I’d suggest you talk to the police first, but only if Denise agrees with that plan.”
They both look to me.
Here it is. Another moment of truth. If I go public with these accusations, I’ll be vilified like I’ve never been before.
But how will that be different than how they treat me now?
It won’t be. Houston is the only true friend I’ve made here, and he just graduated from college and got a job as a police officer outside of Boston.
He won’t be around to help me navigate my last year of high school or anything else after this blows up.
It’s up to me.
Do I want Ryder to pay for what he did to me?
Hell yes.
Do I care about the consequences?
Not as much as I probably should.
“I think I’d like to report it to the police.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Dad says.