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  “Oh, no? And why’s that? You must think it’s funny to lead me on. Is this how you get your kicks?” He is inches from me when he speaks, his breath hot on my face.

  My shoulders are trembling under his hands, and I feel the lump in my throat growing bigger, which is making it hard for me to breathe.

  “I’m not jerking you around, I swear. Listen, I’m not good at this stuff. It’s not you.” My voice is shaky, and I hate that.

  He pushes his body up against me and buries his face in my neck. I gasp for air and let out a whimper. I don’t want to cry, but my emotions are all over the place right now. He thrusts his hips against mine, and that is my undoing. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I’m pushing my hands against his chest, but he won’t budge.

  “Jack, stop! What are you doing?” I am freaking out as he completely smothers me. Fisting my hands, I start smashing them into his chest, trying to get him off of me. I can barely see through my tears, and I wind up punching his lip. He takes a step back and wipes his mouth. It’s bleeding. He looks up at me with a murderous glare, and I know he’s about to lose it. I bolt for the door and run.

  My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I struggle to breathe as I run down the stairs. Bumping shoulders with people in the crowded living room and stumbling over my shaky feet, I find the door that leads out to where Jack’s car is.

  I notice I don’t have my wristlet purse that has my cell phone in it. There is no way I’m going back inside though. I quickly decide to just walk home and deal with the purse situation later. It won’t take long for me to get home if I cut through behind a few buildings. I walk fast and try to grasp what just happened, but I can’t clear my head enough to focus. My heart is starting to slow, and the tears return. I am overwhelmed, and I think it is so much more than what just happened with Jack. Confusion doesn’t even begin to describe my current state of mind.

  “Candace! Wait!” I hear Jack’s voice calling from behind me.

  I turn to see my tiny gold purse clutched in his hand, but fear creeps over me, and suddenly, I don’t care about the stupid purse anymore. I run.

  I run fast.

  I hear his feet pounding against the ground, and I know he’s running after me. FUCK! I will my legs to move faster but they won’t. My throat is on fire, and I can’t breathe. I don’t turn around to see, but I know he’s close. My whole body is burning with panic. Quickly, I cut behind a building and suddenly feel an intense stinging as the side of my face slides against the pavement. Jack is flipping me over onto my back while I desperately claw my nails into the road, pleading to break free from his grip on me. The flesh on my cheek burns as he slaps me across the face. I can’t see. Why can’t I see? I force out a weak scream and am instantly muffled by his hand.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he violently snarls in my face.

  I can barely make out his face with the tears that flood my eyes. I squeeze them shut because they are burning intensely. My body is weighed down, and I can’t move beneath him. I’m not sure what’s happening, but the terror rushing through me is frightening.

  He reaches down, rips open my jeans, and starts yanking on them. I try and kick my legs uncontrollably, but he’s sitting on them. Somehow, he manages to pull them off of one of my legs, as he releases his hand from my mouth.

  “Plea-hease. Stop!” I scream, and he quickly clamps his hand back over my mouth. I desperately try to bite him, but I’m too frantic. I’m sobbing and barely breathing. It takes everything I have to choke out any sounds. But, it’s no use. I hysterically pound my fists as hard as I can against him, but he won’t stop. God, please stop!

  Grabbing the neck of my shirt, he jerks down, tearing the soft worn fabric too easily. With everything I have in me, I try to lock my knees together, but he’s so much more powerful than me when he knees my thighs and forces them open. Consumed by rampant fear, I fight as hard as I can, screaming against his hand. I feel him pulling my bra down, and my breast begins to burn. I’m in such a panic when I realize that he is biting me. Shrieking in desperation as the pain shoots down to my belly, I dig my nails into his arms in response to the pain.

  “Bitch!” He shouts through clenched teeth as he pulls back and backhands me across my face. The blood pools in my mouth, and my body heaves as I begin to choke on it through my cries. Somebody help me! The fabric of my underwear cuts into my skin and stings when he rips them off of me. “You’re not gonna fuckin’ tease me anymore, bitch.”

  He pins my wrists above my head with his large hand, and my body shakes in horror when I realize that I’m completely helpless. God, please don’t do this!

  I manage to let out another choked sob as I frantically try to jerk my body from underneath him, but my muscles are so weak, and the weight of him is too much for me to fight. He’s so heavy on me. I wail when I feel a sudden burn as he violently rips and pounds into me. My whole body locks up.

  What’s happening?

  Is this happening?

  God, is this happening?

  Is this really happening?

  My head falls to the side, and my body goes limp aside from the involuntary twitches from each of his assaults. I focus every ounce of strength I have left on the corner of the dumpster that’s next to me. It’s painted dark blue, but maybe it’s a lighter blue during the daylight. I can tell it’s been painted five or six times . . . I can see every layer. It’s chipping away, and the dark grey metal from underneath is exposed. The line along the chipped paint is ridged and there is a thin vein of white between the blue and grey. Gritty dirt clings to the wheel, and the wheel lock is beginning to rust. The dumpster is worn and full of dents . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . .

  I snap out of my thoughts when Jack grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Tell me you like this,” he taunts, and my sobs are excruciating as I feel his body jerk into mine, and he stills himself, grunting loudly.

  He yanks his pants up and starts running his hand down my naked torso. What else does he want from me?

  “You’re nothing but a cunt,” he lashes when he abruptly jabs his fingers inside of me and then spits in my face.

  I begin to yell and thrash my body, fighting to escape. “God, please! Stop!”

  He lifts up, and suddenly, I see a flash of light that is devoured by darkness and silence.

  Chapter Six

  Where am I? Why can’t I see? I hurt.

  I try and move but something is holding me down. I feel my body rattling on something hard, and I sense that I am moving.

  Am I dreaming? I’m so confused. What’s happening?

  I feel like I’m in a car or something, but I can’t move.

  Why can’t I move?!

  I’m panicking. I can feel it, feel my heart beating harder and louder.

  Open your eyes, Candace. Focus—open your eyes.

  “Miss?” I hear a man say.

  Someone’s here. Help me! Wake me up!

  “Try and relax, Miss. We’re almost there.”

  Where? What’s happening? Someone fucking help me!! Where am I?!

  Sheer fright shoots through me, and I feel the strain in my eyes as they start to open. I squeeze them shut immediately because they burn. I start to feel my body come to life and wriggle my wrists, but something is holding them down. I’m terrified and turn frantic as I keep trying to free my arms. The wriggling quickly turns into erratic jerks. I’m strapped down and I’m terrified.

  “Help me! Get me out of here!” I shriek out in a hoarse voice. I try to move my head, but I can’t. I feel something is wrapped around my neck preventing me from moving.

  “It’s okay, we’re almost there. You’re in an ambulance. You were knocked unconscious. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

  I try and open my eyes, but they still sting. I blink several times when I feel a damp cloth cover them. I start crying at the calming feel of the cool wet cloth. He presses it down gently on my eyes and forehead, then wipes softly.


  “Try opening your eyes,” the man says.

  I do as I’m told, and he wipes one more time. After a few seconds the sting starts to subside.

  “You have a lot of dirt and sweat that has gotten into your eyes.”

  Blinking a few more times, I start to focus on the man hovering over me. I keep trying to move, but I can’t get my limbs free.

  “Just try and relax,” he says in a soothing voice. “You are strapped down to a backboard and are wearing a neck brace until we can assess your injuries.”

  I stare up at the bright white light that is above me in the cab of the ambulance and focus on my breathing.

  What just happened? Is this even real?

  “Miss, how do you feel? Can you tell me if anything hurts?” he asks.

  How do I feel? I don’t know how I feel. I don’t even know what the hell just happened. I feel scared and numb. I feel everything and nothing all at once. I feel like this is a dream—a very, very bad dream that I can’t wake up from. I don’t understand. I’m so confused. Fear and misery rip through me and create a new emotion that I can’t even begin to describe. My heated tears roll continuously down the side of my face as I remain staring at the white light.

  “Miss?”

  “I don’t know,” is all I can manage to say, my only attempt at a response to his very confusing question.

  I move my eyes downward to look at my body, and I am covered in a grey wool blanket. Suddenly, I remember that I am naked beneath this blanket. Embarrassment wells up inside of me, and I begin to sob uncontrollably.

  “I want to go home!” I choke out. “I want to go home!!” I barely recognize my own voice. The panic I hear in myself is frightening.

  We stop abruptly, and the smell of fresh air envelops the ambulance as the doors to the cab open. As I am rolled out, I watch the white light move up and over the top of my head. I want to cover my face with my hands, but they are still strapped down. I start choking on short breaths between sobs. Where are they taking me? What’s going to happen? I feel completely out of control, and I live for control.

  There is a lot of noise and people chattering while I am being wheeled into the hospital. I’m finding it hard to hear what they are saying over my crying and heaving breaths. But the whole world stops moving when I hear that unmistakable word. Don’t say that word. I can’t move. I can’t blink. I can’t do anything. This isn’t me. This can’t be me.

  I am wheeled into a private exam room, and there are several nurses moving around and checking the IV that must have been put in place while I was unconscious. My legs and arms are finally unstrapped, but I no longer feel the need to move. I just lie there. Still. One of the nurses stands by me and asks, “Ma’am, my name is Allie. I need to ask you some basic questions. Is that okay?”

  I nod my head.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  I look at the nurse and she looks to be in her thirties. She’s pretty, with a short blonde bob and almost emerald eyes. Her scrubs are green, which make her eyes appear extremely vibrant. She has flawless makeup, especially her black eyeliner. The stethoscope’s cord that hangs around her neck is hot pink, and I figure that outside of work, she must have a flair for style. I don’t really know, I’m just imagining.

  I feel my hand warm, and I look down to see that she is now holding it. I look back up at her green eyes. “Candace,” I whisper.

  Taking her hand from mine, she starts writing on the clipboard she is holding.

  “Last name?”

  “Parker.”

  She continues through the questions as she fills out my chart with all of my information. When she finishes, she tells me that she is going to call another nurse who handles cases like mine to come in and talk with me.

  “Would you like to call anyone?” she asks me.

  I shake my head no. I don’t want to talk to anyone. How would I even begin to explain this?

  “Would you like me to call someone for you? Sometimes it’s easier if you have a friend here with you.”

  Looking up at Allie, my eyes begin to fill with tears again. I do want my friend here. I want him here so badly, but I am so embarrassed. What will I even say? All I know is that I want Jase here.

  “You’ll call for me?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “Of course,” she says softly.

  “Jase. You can call Jase,” I say. I give her his number, and she leaves the room.

  I am only alone for a few minutes when a doctor wearing a white coat enters my room, along with another nurse who is carrying a white cardboard box. She sets it down on a table, walks over to me, and stands next to the doctor who is holding a steel box clipboard and is looking at it intently. When she looks up at me, she says, “Hello, Ms. Parker, I’m Dr. Langston. I am ordering a CT scan to rule out any evidence of a cerebral hemorrhage and a set of x-rays to be certain you don’t have any fractures or broken bones.”

  I hear her words, but nothing makes sense to me. So I just lie there while tears stream down my temples and into my hair.

  She sets the clipboard down, walks over to me, and assesses my face. She shines a small flashlight into each of my eyes then steps away as she puts the light back into the pocket on her white coat.

  “This is Julia, and she is the Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner for the hospital. She’s going to talk to you while we are waiting to run those scans, okay?” She says this all so matter-of-factly, and I’m not sure how to even react, so I just whisper, “Okay.”

  Dr. Langston proceeds to walk out of the room and closes the door behind her.

  “Hi, Candace,” Julia says in a soft, pleasant tone. I wonder if they teach everyone here how to talk to people like me, because they all sound the same. Gentle, as if they could break me with their words. “I need to know if you want to complete a sexual assault evidence kit examination.”

  I feel my heart rate pick up and anxiety kicks in. “I’m sorry. What?” I ask.

  “A rape kit,” she says. “It is an exam that is used to collect DNA evidence.” She continues to talk to me and goes into more explanation, but her voice becomes distant. How is this happening to me? I don’t know what to do. I look back at Julia to see her looking at me, and she’s no longer talking.

  I shake my head and say, “I don’t know. I . . . I don’t know.”

  “How about if we just talk? Can I ask you a few questions about what happened tonight?”

  “Okay,” I say unsurely.

  She picks up her clipboard and pen, and then asks, “Do you know who did this?”

  I hesitate before answering, “Uh huh.”

  “Can you tell me his name?”

  “Why? What’s going to happen?” I’m extremely nervous, and I’m not sure how much I should say.

  “Nothing will happen unless you want to press charges.”

  “I don’t,” I immediately say. God, I don’t want anyone to know about this.

  The door slowly opens, and Allie pops her head in as she quietly says, “Jase is here. Would you like me to send him in?”

  “Does he know?” I ask. “Did you tell him?”

  Stepping in, she closes the door behind her. She walks over and sits down on a chair that’s next to me.

  “No. All he knows is that you were brought here by ambulance,” she says softly.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I look at Allie with a pleading expression on my face. There is no way I can tell Jase. I mean . . . I want him to know, I just don’t want to be the one who tells him.

  Nodding her head, she says, “It’s okay. We will help you. Would you like me to bring him in?”

  “Can you talk to him? Alone?” I ask. I don’t want to hear what she is going to say, and I definitely do not want to see his reaction when she tells him.

  “If you want me to, I will. How much do you want me to tell him?”

  “Everything,” I say softly.

  “Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Allie stands up and makes her way out of the exam room
.

  I let out a sigh, and Julia continues asking questions about what happened. I don’t tell her Jack’s name, but I go ahead and tell her everything that happened tonight, starting from my house. She asks me to go into detail about the attack. She wants to know every part of my body that was touched, all the places his saliva could possibly be, and the questions seem to go on forever.

  I look up when the door opens again, and Jase is there. I fall apart when I see the horrified expression on his face, and he rushes over to me and wraps my head in his arms. He keeps kissing the top of my head and repeating that he loves me as sobs wrack through my body. I slowly start to calm down, and the tears begin to subside. Jase sits down and looks at Julia.

  “So, what’s going on? Is she okay?” he asks her while holding my hand.

  “We have just completed the written account of the assault.” She looks at me and continues, “The next step, if you choose, is to complete a physical exam to collect evidence. We can do this whether you choose to press charges or not.”

  I look at Jase and shake my head, not knowing what to do.

  Jase looks back at her and asks, “What’s the exam?”

  The nurse picks up the same white cardboard box that I saw her walk in with. “This is the rape kit. There are sixteen different pieces of evidence we collect. You are in total control of the exam. You say ‘stop,’ we stop. I will explain each step as we go so you know exactly what to expect.”

  “How long will this take?” I ask.

  “It can take around four to six hours.”

  “What?! No,” I say to her. I look back at Jase with wide eyes and sternly repeat, “No.”

  “Candace, I really think you should do it. I get that you’re scared right now, but maybe in a few days you might feel differently about this.” He turns and asks Julia, “If she does this exam, then what?”

  “If she decides to press charges, we will hand over the kit to the police. If not, we keep the kit here. If she changes her mind about prosecuting, then at that time, we will hand the kit over to the criminal lab.”

  Jase squeezes my hand, “I’m right here. I think you should do this, sweetie.” I have never seen this look on Jase before. I know he loves me, and I can trust him. I nod my head, and I fight back the tears that are threatening to spill over.