Some pieces of my memory are so vivid so clear, while other pieces are broken and I struggle for things to make sense. I so wish my memory was better, that I had a clear timeline, maybe then I would have been valued and helped. Maybe then I would have been believed.
It was a Tuesday night, I remember it being cold outside, I was terrified about what the night might hold. Calvin knew I wasn't ok, and said either I was going to tell or he was. He was the first person I remember being angry about what happened to me. He was upset I was hurt and said that it wasn't ok. This was my life, I was shocked that he was upset, and said what happened to me wasn't ok. What did he mean this wasn't ok? Such a foreign concept to me.
I was afraid, terrified of speaking the words and wanted a buffer. I said I wanted to tell the youth group leader first. I can remember Calvin going to get Joan. I can remember sitting on the edge of the bed. I am pretty sure it was Calvin that said the words. Sherri was raped. I remember the look on her face, and her very first words were......"should we get a pregnancy test?" That was her first thought, nothing about my personal well-being. I remember feeling more than alone, there was no care or concern, it felt shameful and embarrassing, it felt like I was making a mountain out of a mole hill. I was never asked if I was ok, if I was hurt. If they would have seen my skin, I was still black from the bruises, clothes hurt my skin, so many things were still so very painful. I felt like I had done something terrible. I felt like there was all this outside chaos, and commotion but my world had stopped in that room, and no one really cared.. I could sense all the things going on outside that bedroom room door, but inside there was me alone, yet again, thinking how in the hell am I going to do this. Joan's husband Bob took my father out in the car and told him. I was told he was very upset and tried to jump out of the car. My mother came in the room where I was , she kind of gave me a hug, but I felt nothing. I remember the sweater that I was wearing, it had al these different colored specks on it, and during this time, that was my focus, that sweater. That sweater was my comfort. Finally everyone had left the room, Calvin came back in and he asked if I was ok. I can remember it hurt so much even lifting my arms, but I reached for him and held on, that was the only time that I cried; I was worried that I wouldn't be able to answer all their questions. Guess I got lucky because there were no questions and nothing was asked, no care was given. I felt like I was in that room for hours, and no one stayed with me, there were concerned about everything else but me. By the time I left the room, everyone had gone home and Bob took me home. I had no idea where my parents were.
He was of no comfort. When we got home; to my house. I can remember him sitting beside me on that couch. That same couch that I was tied too and he told me how different that things were going to be. I am sitting there with a flashback of what had happened to me in that room; he was telling me how things were going to change. We were not even in the same galaxy. The room was dark, and I felt everything and nothing, memories were on repeat and I just wanted to get away. Still people were talking at me, nobody was just there with me in case I needed anything. Not one person was there for me. I can remember just wanting Bob to leave, he was talking but had nothing to say. This was my normal and no one understood that.
This was a little more violent, but I truly believed this Is what happens to me.
I don't remember my parents coming home, or Bob leaving. I just remember finally being in my own room, and feeling the entire world on my shoulders, not one adult asked me what happened, if I needed anything, or even if I was hurt. I cried myself to sleep, embarrassed and ashamed that I just couldn't be ok. I had no idea what the 48 hours would hold.
I woke up in the morning and both my parents were standing over me just staring. It was like they wanted something, and just expected me to know what it was. I don't remember them saying a word to me. This was Wednesday morning, too late to go to school. Guess I would be staying home. I was only in 8th grade. Still no one really talking to me, finding out how I felt, where my heart was. I felt like there was a lot of whispering, talking about me. It was like somehow there was this huge secret in the house that they were trying to keep from me. I became an intruder in my own home. I can see my mother making phone calls, lots of them. I was just trying to stay out of the way. She called the police department wanting a rape crisis center. I remember them asking if they wanted a detective, but that was a resounding no. I think I was shocked, a part of me relieved, because I thought I was the one who had done something terribly wrong. A part of me believed, that maybe things would be different, I was so wrong.
A little later that afternoon, there was the appointment at the rape crisis center. An old building in Lewisville, right on main street by the hospital, there was an IHOP next door, and 35 was right there. It must have been early afternoon, I remember that I got a happy meal before our appointment. One of the few times I was actually in my own skin these two days. I can remember the sun being warm, and the chicken nuggets, smelled amazing, I didn't eat, maybe the morning sickness but that sun allowed me to feel its warmth and I was grateful. I was lying in the back seat, enjoying the sun, sitting was still painful, not one person asked about me physically; for a few minutes, I just enjoyed the sun on my face laying in the backseat. You know That feeling when its cold but the warm car, it was like that and was the only good thing that happened that day. Finally it was time for the appointment, so my mother, father and I all walked in. Such an uneasy feeling. I wanted to throw up.
We walked into this tiny office with wood paneling. It was bright and welcoming actually. I remember so many things but very few words. The chair I was in had no sides, there were big potted plants. The counselor her name was Cynthia Hodges. I remember she had an under bite. She wore LOTS of turquoise jewelry, rings, bracelets. She wore a lot of makeup and her lips were shiny. Every time she moved her hands her jewelrywould all jangle, it felt so loud. And her legs, she was tall and very skinny, she did this thing with her legs wrapping them around each other, Kind of like a contortionist, I always wondered how she did that.
Home to more awkwardness, more phone calls and, disbelief. The phone call from Joan to my mother saying she didn't believe me, I was lying. I didn't show enough emotion if that REALLY HAPPENED! There were phrases like I was the chubby unpopular kid; who would want to do that to me? There were accusations that I just wanted attention. Yep, attention, that was the last thing I ever wanted in this life. How crazy to think I would have been embraced , cared for and protected. Hearing that phone call was crushing, I was less than human yet again. Minutes felt like years, there were so many things I wanted to say, so many things to get out; but no one ever asked. I was placed in a silent box where everyone else was allowed to give their thought and opionions. I was expected to sit take it all in, and move on . I don't remember that night , just more silence, more whispers, I am sure if they listened they would have heard my breaking heart.
I so hated the night time, the dark, sleep and the nightmares. At least when it was time to go to bed, I was in my own room surrounded by my things, and the tears were able to fall. From Calvin's reaction that I was important and should not be hurt like that. He was angry at what happened to me; I was confused, this is what I knew my entire life!!! There was still 24 hours of silence before I could go back to school, people ignoring me, everyone involved was only worried about themselves.
So now it was Thursday. I wanted to be back in my safe little world where no one knew my life, where rape wasn't my reality. You see because its so much better when you keep quiet, keep things to yourself, then no one can do anything because they don't know. BUT now, people did know and still did nothing. Now people did know, and blamed me called me a liar and said the most terrible awful things. The nightmare had just begun, no one cared.
So more phone calls, I don't even think we knew that many people. Who could have been so important, and I was banished to silence ,not believed. Calls to Dr. Culpeper, a Dr appointment was made. It was early afternoon. My mom and I drove there, silence in the car, my stomach was in knots, Watching each building pass as we got closer and closer to his office. If he saw the marks, if he asked questions, nothing would ever be the same. He had been my Dr for a long time, he always cared for me and was kind. I loved his office, there were huge fish tanks, a gigantic pirate ship that littles could climb on. I remember the office being exceptionally quiet that day. I wanted to climb in one of the fish tanks and just hide among the rocks. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
That day dream was broken by the nurse calling me back. My mother went to an office and I was led to a room. Time is irrelevant, I felt like I was in that room forever. Dr. Culpeper finally walked in. He touched my shoulder, I moved away, but only because the bruising was so painful. He sat down in front of me, asked how I was. I gave the I'm fine, and a slight smile. He smiled back, and knew I wasn't ok at all. He saw me, he said that I couldn't keep everything bottled up. I sat there wanting to scream , tell him everything, but every cell in my body, every bone that kept me upright believed I was a lying slut that just wanted attention. He gently spoke for a few minutes, I don't remember the words, but they were kind and caring, and tears began to roll down my face. Then he asked, if he could do an exam. The world stopped, my breathing ceased.I shook my head no, crying harder. The tears coming faster then I could wipe them away. I couldn't imagine him seeing the shape I was in, there was still a lot of bleeding, my skin was covered in these blackish purple bruises that covered most of me. I was a mess, a mess that deserved to suffer in silence. He very gently put his hand on my knee, he heard me. Of the last 2 days, he was the only person that heard me. He said it was ok, He understood. Looking back I know I should have said yes, but I was more than ashamed of being in my own skin., of what had happened to me. I left being relieved, but there was a sadness, if he would have seen under my closes, evveryone would have known just how badly that I was hurt, and I was telling the truth. A physical exam would have shattered me. I left the office feeling heard for the first time, that kept me breathing. I just stared out the window on the way home, not wanting to go, not wanting anything really other than for someone to reach out and tell me I wasn't so gross and disgusting.
We got home more whispering, then they got louder and louder. I was in my room, they were in theirs. My father was furious, saying he didn't know if I was ok. So much screaming! I came out of my room, and caught his eyes, if looks could have killed. He really hated me, I quietly went back to my room. This was my life, keeping everything in, smiling regardless of pain and brokenness. Another night, this long painful 48 hours was coming to an end. Nothing changed, other than the fact in the belief that I was a liar and asking for attention. I was grateful for Dr.Culpeper, at least someone listened.
Just like that I woke up Friday morning, carefully took a shower, carefully put clothes on and went to school.
No words were ever spoken about it in my house ever again. Just a mere 48 hours mostly in silence, blamed, screamed at and mostly ignored. No questions about what happened to me, no one to sit and let me cry. Just like that for them it was over. For me nothing would ever ever ever, be the same. I just faded further into the background. It would be a very long time before, I would be able to speak, and still fighting for that right.
I heart your heart.
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