Lost (39 page)

  I tried to let go of the tension holding me still with my legs pulled tightly closed.  I tried to forget a man was looking at me and seeing what was done to me, and I tried to forget a man had taken me earlier and saw everything he did to me while he did it.
  “Sophie... Almost done.  Are you aware of any anal penetration?”
  “Um... No.  I don't know.  But I'd feel it right?  Everything hurts, but not there, and I've never done that, so I'd feel it, right?” I begged through my near hysteria.
  “I'm going to take an anal swab anyway, just to be sure, but I don't think your anus has been compromised,” he said so seriously, I actually found it a little funny. 
  “A compromised anus?  That sounds like a porn movie,” I giggled to my horror.
  I was totally losing it then.  I knew it, and Dr. Newman, and nurse whatever knew it.  I was laughing at stupidity when I should have been crying in horror.  Dr. Newman continued on though like I wasn't being ridiculous. 

  “Sophie... You have a small vaginal tear, which I'm going to leave alone because stitches are often worse for potential infection in that sensitive area.  You also have much internal swelling, which though uncomfortable should lessen in a day or two.  And as I said, I don't believe you were abused anally, but we'll know for sure after the swab,” he said clinically.
  “Okay... Thank you.”
  “I’m going to take a few photographs of you now quickly.  And after I scrape under your fingernails I'll be giving you antibiotics to fight infection, plus the morning after pill to prevent a pregnancy.  I'll follow up with a prescription to fight any potential STD's until your blood work and the test results come back, which should be in a day or two, at the latest.  The hospital rushes test results after a sexual assault so the victim doesn't have the added stress and worry of STD's as well,” he said finally sitting further away from my nasty vagina.
  “Oh, that's good.  I'll probably have a lot more to think about anyway,” I laughed again.
  “We have a rape counsellor on sight, waiting to speak with you after the Detective does, and I'd like to administer more pain medication once you're through speaking with Officer Dolby,” he said after raising the table end and lowering my legs gently while covering me up again with the sheet.
  “I don't want to talk to him.”
  “Sophie,” the nurse soothed. “You have to talk to the Detective to catch the person who hurt you.  You should try hard to remember any detail you can, so it'll be easier to find the assailant.”
  “I don't want to talk to
him
.  I don't like him,” I cried.
  “We can get another Detective if you'd be more comfortable.  A female?”
  And nodding my head, I whispered, “Yes, please...”
    After Dr. Newman took some photos of my body and face, he gave me some medication- the morning after pill I think.  He then recommended I speak with the Detectives quickly, so he could give me the pain meds I needed.  He didn't like the fact that I wasn't as numb as I should be for the shoulder adjustment but he knew I couldn't be mentally impaired in any way while making an official statement, at least that’s what he said.
  Eventually, a female Detective joined me in my room alone, after I insisted my mom stay in the hallway.  I loved my mom, and she was a comfort to me totally, but I honestly couldn't handle telling the police what had happened with her looking at me.  I just couldn't do it to either of us.
  Detective Dent was much better than Dolby.  She was straight forward and professional, but she seemed to have some emotion as well.  She nodded when I cried, and she was patient with me when I paused.  She listened and took notes, but she seemed to still be emotionally in the room with me, as I told her the truth.
  “I didn't know I wasn't dreaming at first, and I had an orgasm from whatever he was doing to me, but then I woke up more and I was being held down against my back with my face pushed hard into my pillow, nearly suffocating me, and then I couldn't really breathe and I think I passed out because I woke up on my back just before... he finished.”
  “Did you see his face?”
  “Never.”
  “Did he speak to you ever?”
  “I don't think so...” But then I remembered.  Jumping in my bed, and moaning in pain from my shoulder down, I remembered. “I heard him say a name!  I don't know what he said exactly though.  I don't know because everything is blurry, but I think I heard him say Perry.  Oh my god, I think he said something about Perry.”
  “Who's Perry?” She asked still writing quickly but looking up at me.
  “He owns the art gallery in the village.  I met him last month.  He had my paintings and I bought them, and he was a total asshole to me, but I don't think it was him, 'cause the guy was big enough to weigh down my whole body
and
still push my head down, but Perry is all wimpy and skinny, and he seemed gay, too, so he wouldn’t do this,” I almost laughed.
  “Okay.  You heard something 'Perry'.  Can you think of anything else?”
  “No...”
  “Now, what about Peter Connor?  You've mentioned him a few times, and-”
  “It was NOT Peter.  Peter is my ex-boyfriend, and I think he's a cop, or in the military, and I would know Peter anywhere, especially if we were together.  It wasn't him, but I thought it was when I was sleeping, and that's why...” I choked.
  “You had an orgasm,” she said matter-of-factly.
  “Yes...” I moaned.  “I’m such a slut,” I shook as I cried in both pain and embarrassment.
  “Sophie... You're not a slut.  And you are not the first victim who had an orgasm while being raped.  Yes, it's rare because the act is typically very violent, but from what you've described, your assailant began while you were sleeping, and you didn't realize what was happening, but once you did, it was no longer an act of pleasure for you but of force, right?”
  “But who does that?  What kind of woman gets off with a rapist?”
  “A woman who was confused by the circumstances she suddenly found herself in, in her own room, while sleeping, unaware of the reality of her situation.”
  “I guess... But I feel like a pig.  I got off and I enjoyed it.”
  “Until you didn't...”
  “Right,” I nodded.  “Until I knew something was wrong.  Then I tried to fight him, but he was too strong for me.”
  “That's right.  You fought him as best as you could until he hit you a few times and fled the scene.”
  “Yes, that's what I did.  I fought him once I knew it wasn't Peter.  I didn't like it and he was hurting me, and I tried to breathe, and I tried to fight it.  Thank you.  You're good at this, Detective Dent,” I gave a little smile.
  “I'm not good, I'm being honest.  You did nothing wrong, Sophie.  And you need to remember that as you recover.  This was a violent act done
to
you, not done with you.  Do you see the difference?”
  Nodding slightly, I did see the difference.  Staring at her I still felt dirty, but suddenly a little less so.
  “Do you know Peter Connor?” I asked desperately.
  “No.  Does he work out of this city?”
  “I think so.”
  “Would you like me to try to find him?  Do you want me to have him get in touch with you?”
  “Yes, please,” I begged.  I wanted Peter to help me so badly, it was like another pain in my body. 
  “How did he get in?” I suddenly thought to ask.
  “We don’t know for sure, but we believe through the kitchen window, because there was no other point of entry.  When Officer Dolby arrived you were behind your locked door, and we found a small blood sample on the kitchen floor, but otherwise, there was no other entry.  And considering how far your bedroom is from the kitchen, I doubt you would have heard him entering the kitchen even if you had been awake.”
  “Oh... What do I do?” I asked scared.
  “I would recommend a security alarm because you're on the ground floor of a building with lots of coverage and places to hide.  Almost every window in your apartment has the ability to hide an intruder, plus the courtyard offers zero protection on your bedroom/bathroom side.  I, myself could see right into your bathroom from the tiny gaps in your blinds,” she said as I gasped.
  “I didn't know that.  I never knew that.  I thought the blinds were perfect when closed.  I thought I was covered.  Oh god, people could see me use the bathroom, or even naked in the shower?  I didn't know.”
  “No one knows until it's pointed out.  Please, I'm just trying to help you, not scare you.”
  “I know, but...” I was still shaken.
  There was nothing safe anymore.  I had been beaten up and raped in my own home.  People could watch me pee, and I hated that someone may have watched me naked in my bathroom.  Everything just sucked so badly, I started to really cry.
  “We're through for today, Sophie.  I'm going to give you my card, and I want you to call me with any information you remember, no matter how small.  Call me anytime, and I'll talk to you right after the test results and DNA samples come through, okay?”
  “Okay...”
  “I'll send Dr. Newman back in with your meds now.  Take care, Sophie.  I'll talk to you soon,” Detective Dent said walking to the door.
  “Thank you...” I whispered as she nodded and left the room.
  After she left, I was alone for 5 minutes.  I was completely alone with a body that ached and throbbed everywhere.  Amazingly, even my feet hurt, which I couldn't understand.  For whatever reason, there was nothing that didn't hurt on me, and my shoulder was absolutely on fire.  I needed pills so bad, I almost hit the emergency call button myself before Dr. Newman had time to arrive.
  Panicking still, I sighed an audible sound of relief when Dr. Newman finally returned.
  “I hurt everywhere, Dr. Newman.  Can I please have pain killers now?  Please?”
  “Would you like to speak with the rape counsellor first?”
  “Not now.  Please, I just want to sleep and take some pills to help the pain everywhere.”
  “Of course, Sophie.  Just give me a second and Rebecca will come back to administer them.  Within minutes you should be sound asleep and pain free.  But I'll be back throughout the day to check on you, and to make sure your shoulder was set properly, okay?”
  Nodding again, I was in pain and tired.  I didn’t care what Dr. Newman said to me or if he came back, I just wanted to sleep my nightmare away.
  I wanted Peter to help me with some of his scents, and herbal concoctions, and with his chakra therapy, or breathing exercises.  I wanted Peter to fix everything. 
  I wanted Peter with me, period. 
 

CHAPTER 31

  The following afternoon I was released from the hospital when my shoulder had been x-rayed again and the doctors were pleased with the set of the dislocation.  My body still ached and burned everywhere, but I think it was more psychological than physical at that point.  My vagina was healing I was told after another horrible internal exam, and though peeing still burned, I otherwise tried to ignore my body.  Actually, I tried to ignore everything.
  I spoke to the rape counsellor twice, but I hated how she kept talking about the events, and how I could move past them, and what I should do to move on.  I hated talking to her because she seems like a total know it all, and she was just annoying with her soft, calm voice, and her constant nods of understanding, no matter what I said.
  I couldn't talk to my mom about anything either, though she tried.  She tried a few times to engage me gently, but I closed down still horribly embarrassed by everything that had happened when I became aware in the hospital room. 

  The fact that I originally yelled to my mom, 'I came!  I orgasmed!  I enjoyed it!' was too much for me to handle.  My mom was super cool, and I wasn’t a verbal prude by any means, but screaming 'I came!' to my mom was beyond embarrassing and not something I wanted to further discuss.
  I wasn't able to see my dad or brother either, because they were men and I didn't want them thinking of me ever having sex, never mind being raped.  I didn't want my brother getting visuals he'd have to bleach from his brain, and I didn't want my dad thinking of his daughter getting off and then fighting her rapist.
  Pulling it together, I decided it didn't happen, and I wasn't going to discuss it anymore because it simply didn't happen.  Therefore, I wouldn't talk about what didn't happen anymore.  And that's what I did.  I stopped talking about it.
  When I was going to be released and I informed my mom I wanted to go home, she finally raised her voice at me instead of being the quiet, calm woman I didn't recognize as she fought my decision hard.  She demanded I come home with her and she explained how I might feel in my apartment and how the memories might be too much.  She even told me of the shock I may go through when I entered my home again.  She was very logical, albeit loud, but I didn't give in.
  I fought back, until I was so damn tired, I eventually cried out in frustration until she gave in, but not before she told me she was staying with me for a few days.  She told me so sadly and lovingly that she was staying with me in my apartment, I just couldn't refuse her.