Ch. 31

At the hospital, they have a female police officer come to take my statement while the doctor assesses me. A second female officer waits to take photos of my injuries and there is a nurse assisting.

"Young man, you are going to have to step out while we do a more thorough examination," the officer informs Ian, to me she says, "Is that okay?"

"Grace I'll be right in those chairs, I'll be right here when you need me, okay?"

"Ian..." I can feel panic seize me, my throat closing.

"Gracie, you're so strong, I know you can do this, okay?" he leans over and kisses my forehead.

"Okay," I agree meekly and he walks out from behind the curtained area and goes to a sitting area. The police officer that took my statement follows to question Ian while the doctor, nurse and officer with the camera continues with my examination.

"Grace, we need you to take off your shirt, please." I start to shake, but I comply. The officer and doctor take notes on bruising around my collarbone, then collect my shirt as evidence, since it is torn. "Now your bra please."

My breasts are sore from being squeezed so violently last night, and bruises in the shapes of finger prints are visible.

"Grace, I'm going to have to take some pictures now," the officer says gently.

I try to be brave and lay down with my eyes closed. I can hear the camera clicking and I fight the urge to vomit. The nurse can tell I'm uncomfortable, so she gives a bottle of water and a blanket while they talk to me.

"So the bruising around your neck?"

"I don't know how I got that, maybe from when he was holding me down when he was trying to undo my pants?" I offer.

"Grace, I'm going to need you to lay back down so we can examine your pelvic area. You're doing great, okay? Just a little bit more."

I bite my lip nervously and lay back again. The officer takes photos of the scratches on my lower stomach, where his nails dug in while trying to get my pants undone. Then I have to remove my pants, so they can do an internal exam.

"Are you sexually active, Grace?"

"No, I've never sex. What Chad did was farther than I've ever done."

They examine scratched sore skin, four distinct nail marks, and then a gloved hand examines me inside. I am terrified and in pain. The doctor and the officer confer and make some more notes. The nurse holds my hand and the officer readies her camera.

"It's okay Grace, this is the last set of pictures, okay?"

"Please stop saying it's okay, it's not okay." I can hear my voice raise, but it's not me.

"You're almost finished, just hold still for a second." the camera clicks a few more times, then the nurse hands me the pants that Ian brought for me and the blanket again. I cover myself as quickly as I can, but I'm shaking and its so hard.

"You did great Grace," the nurse pats my leg.

"What happened?" the officer asks.

"He got my pants open and was trying to stick his fingers inside me while opening his pants. He was going to..." I retch and start to sob. "I could feel his...he was hard...and was going to...." I can't finish a sentence, a thought, and I'm back in that car again, trapped.

"Why did he stop?" the officer questions

"Ian..." I begin, then it turns into me calling for him. I need him. "Ian! Ian!"

"I'm coming Grace," he responds from the other side of the room. I can hear his footfalls rush across the room and I curl into a ball again, willing myself to disappear. "It's okay, Gracie," and his hands are stroking my hair again.

"How did you happen to stop the attack, Ian?"

"I watch out for Grace and she watches out for me. We've always been that way."

The nurse makes a noise between a gasp and a chuckle and it shocks me into opening my eyes and my head whipping towards her.

"I'm so sorry," she responds embarrassed, "only I've just remembered why you two seem so familiar. Rabies shots, right? About four or five years ago?"

"That's us," Ian tells her.

"They really do take care of each other. Last time I saw them here, he was getting stitched up from protecting her from a rabid dog," the nurse explains, "only she was the one who stopped the dog and saved him."

"I still have the scar to prove it." Ian lifts the corner of his shirt to show everyone. "Last night I returned the favour. I was in my room when a car pulled in next door. I recognized the car and knew that he's not the type of person Grace normally hangs with. I watched for a minute to see if everything was okay, but when she didn't get out of the car, I went downstairs to check on her. I heard her screaming when I got outside and I pulled her from the car just as Chad was trying to..." his voice falters, "he was undoing his pants, he was going to force Grace, rape Grace. I mean the bastard was enjoying it...and I had to stop him." Ian is crying and I put my arms around him.

"Thank you Ian, thank you, thank you." I cry quietly.

"I beat him up, I mean I punched him to get him off Grace, and pulled her out of the car, then he came after me and I hit him until he left so I could get Grace inside."

"Why didn't you call the police last night?"

"I was in shock, I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to keep Grace safe and she was shaking so much. I just wrapped her in a blanket and stayed with her all night. I was so worried about her."

"I was drunk and he offered me a ride home, we kissed at the party and that was all. I didn't ask for this, any of this. He told me I was a cocktease and that I asked for it..."

"While drinking might have gotten you into a situation that wasn't safe, you said no, and people have to listen to that, respect that," the officer tells me.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." I repeat.

"What happens now, officer?" Ian asks.

"There's enough evidence to press charges, but he may press assault charges against you, Ian, for attacking him. They probably wouldn't stand up in court though." she turns and looks to me, "as for Grace, we have victim services and counselling available and I think that in order to move forward, they can really help."

Later, after filling out forms and making appointments, Ian drives me home. When we pull in his driveway, I can see that someone, most likely Steve has cleaned up my vomit from last night, washing the driveway clean of my attack. My shame. My nightmare. If only it was that easy to wash away my thoughts. Revulsion fills me and I stumble from the car, retching and shaking. Whatever strength I had is gone. Ian catches me and eases me up the steps of my house.

"Grace what do you need? What can I do?" his concern startles me back from where ever my mind was going. I don't deserve his help.

"I need a shower, sleep." I mumble, almost incomprehensible.

"Okay, Gracie. Do you need me to come in?" Ian asks gently.

"No," to that I am adamant. Who knows what will greet me in the house.

I slip from his strong, comforting arms and go into my cold, bleak house. And I know he goes home. His warm caring home.

My mother is sitting on the couch when I come in. She sees what she wants to see. She sees me disheveled, wearing someone else's clothes, and obviously in a state of pain. She mistakes it for a hangover, and it re-enforces her beliefs about me. Who can blame her, really? I've been terrible lately, on path with destruction, and now I've met it head on. I drag myself past her haranguing, catching the words 'slut,' 'whore,' and 'useless' on my way to the bathroom upstairs.

I am numb to her, numb to everything. I stand in the water, scalding at first, eventually going cold, but I still can't get clean. Eventually I climb out of the tub, wrap myself in my robe and go to bed. I cocoon myself in my blankets and sleep a dead sleep, my brain shut down.

If only we hadn't turned our backs on her. How many times had she seen us injured and hurting and known just what to do? But we turned our backs, didn't try hard enough, didn't force ourselves to be heard, and now she's the one who's damaged, almost beyond recognition.