Pretty Little Dreams (7 page)

7.

NUMB

Olivia

“H
i, Olivia. My
name is Katie. I’m the forensic nurse that is going to perform an evidence collection exam that you agreed to have. This can be a difficult and intrusive process, so I won’t pretend that I can make you comfortable, but I will proceed at whatever pace works for you and want you to make sure to tell me if you need a break or have a question during this process, okay?”

I nod, feeling numb, not able to do much else.
I want this over now.

“I’m going to do a few things, including a vaginal inspection, collection of some hair and nail samples, and blood draws.
I will explain what I’m doing as we go. Do you have any questions before I begin?”

“Since I’m not positive that… he… ” I take a deep breath, but she doesn’t make me continue.

“It’s best to be precautionary. While findings and evidence is most reliable when this process is conducted within 72 hours of an assault, that doesn’t mean that any evidence we obtain here won’t be helpful down the line. It will also help to determine if you acquired any ailment or disorder. If that occurred, we will provide the appropriate care for you promptly.”

“Okay.”

Katie gives me a small smile while she eases on a pair of exam globes. “I’ve already gathered the clothes you were wearing when you were brought in, so we are going to start with hair and nail samples.”

“When was the last time you showered?” Katie asks unemotionally.
Her calm, steady speech and effortless, easy motions are simultaneously reassuring and unsettling. She has obviously done this many times.

“I…I’m not sure.
I don’t even know what day it is. It’s likely been a couple days at least, I guess.” I respond, trying to be equally impassive.

“Okay.
Don’t worry that you don’t remember exactly. That’s fine.” Katie proceeds to cut my nails, capturing each one in a plastic bag. “Next, I need to gather hair samples from your scalp. This is going to sting just a little. I need to pull one hair out of your scalp in five places. One on each side of your head, the center, and then from the front and back.”

I remain silent as I feel her selectively comb and then the sting and snap as she pulls a hair from each place on my scalp, and then places them in their own plastic bags labeling each one.

Next, she approaches me with cotton swabs.

“I need to take swabs of your saliva, please. Just open your mouth for me.”

I open my mouth and wrinkle my nose at the feel of cotton in my mouth as she swabs my gum line, and the inside of my cheek.
When she’s done, she smears the samples on glass slides. The process is repeated with two more cotton swabs, but these are not placed on slides.

“Normally I would collect samples of the blood from each of the scratches on your body, however each of your punctures and scratches were cleaned and medicated when you were brought in.
Next I need to retrieve pubic hair samples, as well as do a pelvic exam. Do you have any questions about that?”

“No.”
Is she crazy? I don’t want to ask her questions. I want to pretend none of this is happening and drift off to la la land.

“Okay.
I know this is going to be difficult with your leg cast, but we will make it work.”

“Okay.”
What else am I supposed to say? Should I say ‘great’ or ‘thanks’, because I don’t feel either of those things.

Katie comes to the side of my bed and presses a button that makes the bed rise into a sitting position.
She can’t lift it too much because the cast on my leg does make it difficult, as predicted.

“Are you ready?”

I can only nod – or at least I think I did, because she efficiently pulls the cover and sheet back as she deftly adjusts my gown to assist in providing needed access without undue difficulty.

“I now need to help you disrobe down to your waist.”

I start to try and awkwardly pull the hospital gown off my shoulders, but the bandage on my arm makes me clumsy, and I only manage to get one side – and not fully off. I can tell getting dressed each day is going to be an interesting experience. Joy.

Grabbing her camera from a nearby table, she matter-of-factly states that she needs to take a few pictures and begins taking photos.
I look down at myself and gasp when I see all the scratches and bruises covering my torso. There are even a few bandages on places where fluid has leaked through enough to show on the other side.

“Can you tell me how you got these marks, Olivia?”

“I’m assuming most of the injuries were sustained during my fall.”

“Yes, I would assume that too, however, what about the marks on your arms that look like fingerprints?”

I just stare at her. Is that a rhetorical question? I think the obvious hand prints speak for themselves.

“Did Deacon Brooks do this to you, Olivia?”

“Yes.”

I don’t realize until after she asks, that she’s making notes on a notebook.

“What are the notes for?”

“I have to make sure I have notes that correspond with each photo I’m taking.”

“I see.”

The flash is on the camera and it is blinding. I don’t realize how much I’m batting my eyes, until they start to water. I close my eyes, just trying to shut this out and more tears fall down my cheeks in silent succession. I want to blame it on the flash, but I know better.

“We belong together, Olivia.
Do you hear me? You are going to stay in this fucking room until you get that through your head.”

“Deacon, you’re hurting me.”

I open my eyes, hoping that doing so will make the images of him shaking me go away.

“Okay, let’s put this back up on your shoulders,” the sound of her voice startles me and I realize she had pulled the covers up in an attempt to provide modesty while she was taking pictures and writing, “then I am going to pull the bottom up to your waist and pull the covers down one more time.
We need to do a pelvic exam now, and I can take pictures of your leg and hips, if needed, at the same time.”

“Okay.”

Katie is gentle. There is kindness in her eyes, and I know she’s trying to make this as easy as possible. But, is there an easy way? Is that even possible?

Katie lowers the bed back down so I’m lying down once again, “Olivia, please bend your knee on this leg,” she says tapping my knee, “and relax it to the side.”

Oh God. I hate these things. Once a year is enough. I force myself to relax and open my leg to make her job easier. It’s not easy. I feel vulnerable and completely violated.

“This may pinch a bit.
I have to collect ten hairs the same way I collected the samples from your head.”

I squeeze my eyes closed.
This is humiliating. The first thing I’m doing when I’m better is getting back to the spa for a wax and a full-on pampering session. I try to remove myself from the situation. Luke’s face comes to the forefront of my mind. I saw the confusion and hurt on his face when he looked back at me as he left the room. He wanted to stay, he wanted me to tell him to stay, but I couldn’t. I don’t want him to know about this.

I feel alone, and on one hand I wish he were in here with me holding my hand, telling me it will be okay.
I want his lips in my hair and his sweet words in my ear. But, I know Luke, and I could see it on his face, in his eyes; he already blames himself for what happened to me. The last thing I want is for him to blame himself for this too. It’s bad enough already, and selfishly, part of me doesn’t want to deal with his emotions too. I can hardly handle my own.

I just want to move on and pretend this never happened.
Do I think that will be easy? No. Do I even think that is healthy? No. But I refuse to let Deacon dictate my life. I refuse to let him and his sick obsession ruin everything I want in my life.

“Okay, Olivia, I’m finished with the exam.
You can relax now.” She tucks my gown back down and covers me up again. “The last thing I need to do is scrape your fingernails in case you have any of his DNA trapped under your nails, that didn’t come off with the clippings.”

“Alright.”
I am patient and quiet as Katie goes about her task.

I could have lied to the police when they asked me if I had been physically or sexually abused.
I thought about it, for a moment, but I’m not stupid. I have no doubt the doctors already saw some of the marks on me during surgery, so if I lie, they will know it. Plus, I know that eventually, this is all going to come to a head and the more evidence I have on my side, the better. Documenting this is important. So I keep telling myself that, because knowing doesn’t make this any less demeaning.

“Oh, one more thing.
I’m going to leave this cup. The next time you get up to use the restroom, I need a sample.”

“A sample?”

“Yes, a urine sample, please.”

“Okay.
Why?”

“We have to run a pregnancy test.”

I feel faint at her words, “A… a pregnancy test?”

“Yes, that’s standard in a situation like this.
We have to do that as well.”

I can’t even let my mind go there.
Oh God, no. Absolutely not, I can’t be.

The nurse smiles at me with sympathy, obviously seeing my distress.
“Okay, Olivia, that’s everything. I’m going to ask one more time if you have any questions?”

“No.
I understand everything that occurred.”

“Olivia, what you have been through is very traumatic.
There is a counselor on staff with the hospital; I would encourage you to talk to someone. Can I have them come in and speak with you for a bit?”

“No.”

She looks at me questioningly, and I see her open her mouth in order to argue with me.
Before she can, I tell her, “I will remember that, and call a counselor when and if I’m ready.”

“Fair enough.”
Katie squeezes my shoulder, “you take care. We will get the evidence tested and will let you know when we have some results.”

“Results?”

“Yes, of course. The pelvic exam…”

I just stare at her blankly.

“Well they will check for STDs and HIV. We will let you know the results.”

I blink away tears.
How could that not even have occurred to me? “Yes, yes of course. Thank you.”

Katie nods and walks out of my room.
I breathe deeply trying to calm my fears and choke on a sob. I force it back when the door to my room opens immediately and Pyper walks in.

“Is it okay if I come in?”

I smile to myself because of course she asks this while she is already standing on the side of my bed. “Of course.”

“How are you feeling?

“I’m doing okay.” I wish I could tell her the truth. How I feel ashamed, dirty, destroyed…but I can’t. I won’t.

“Who was that lady that was just in here?
What did they want?”

Shaking my head, I change the subject, “Can you believe these hospital gowns Pyper?
What the hell? In all this time they haven’t updated them?”

Pyper does exactly what I hope she will – she allows the change of subject but not before she gives me a meaningful look, letting me know she is completely aware of what I’m doing.
“What’s the problem, Livvie? You don’t like your ass hanging out the back end?”

“Ha.
Very funny. But just for the record, no I don’t.”

“You may be able to catch the attention of a hot doctor in that gown.
Hmm, come to think of it, maybe I should put one on too.”

I laugh and I hope it sounds genuine, “I think you should.
I dare you to put one on and walk around the hospital halls with your ass hanging out. Tell me if it works. It can be a test.”

“I like this idea.
It can be like the movie,
How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days
, but instead, it’s how to snag a doctor in – hmm – how many walks down the hallway do you think it would take?”

“For what?
How many walks until you get a date with a handsome doctor? Or, how many until you get that sweet ass of yours kicked out of the hospital?”

“Either or,” she states matter-of-factly.

I laugh out loud, this time with a lot more feeling. Not only at her response but because at that very moment, she is rummaging through the closet in my room to see if they have any gowns in there.

Before I even think about what I’m saying I blurt, “It feels good to laugh.”

Pyper immediately turns towards me and the look on her face is one of sadness, guilt, and anxiety. “Olivia?”

Even with our fun and games I know she needs to get something off her chest.
It will kill her inside until I let her. “Tell me.”

She walks to my bed and sits.
Her mouth opens and she chokes on a sob. She snags some tissues from the side of my bed and I reach my hand over to clasp hers, and wait.