My mind is numb and screaming 'Who?' at the same time. But I already know who. I know why. I don't want to though. I just want my life to go back to whatever equivalence of normal it was last at.
I want my mom to accept me for who I am. I want Josh to grow up. I want dad to be here. I want Ashley to be okay. I want to go to sleep.
I can't though. Not yet anyway.
Right now I'm sitting in a hard backed chair by a hospital bed, one hand grasping Ashley's, the other clutching a styrofoam coffee cup. Every five minutes our peace is disturbed by a nurse or a cop. Every five minutes without fail.
At this rate I'll never get her to talk about it. Of course I don't blame her for not wanting to. She's just survived a nightmare.
Echoing throughout my mind are Josh's words. "You just need some good dick..." over and over again. Enough to make me sick.
Come to think of it, I've already been sick. The slightly acidic taste in my mouth is a reminder of that.
I've been asked a thousand times by several differently ranked police officers who I think did it. I've told each one of them Josh and his friends.
Josh did it. He and his group of disgusting minions.
My own brother raped my girlfriend at least five times. That the officials' guess anyway. He and his friends raped her, beat her, and humiliated her. I'm told that she's lucky to be alive. She looks lucky to be alive too. With the amount of injuries that she sustained...
They left her for dead in a ravine just off of highway 41. Some joggers found her there this morning, naked bleeding, and barely breathing.
She has a few broken ribs, a broken nose, a fractured wrist, and several cuts that look like they came from a "sharp bladed object" - 'Say KNIFE you damn cops' - and multiple bruises around her face, neck, and chest.
Raped five times. 'One for each teenaged boy at our house yesterday,' I thought bitterly.
I've recounted yesterday's events about a thousand times.
"How do you know it was Josh?" Let me tell you for the fifty-second time....
Of course she won't talk about it. Think about how traumatic it must have been for her. She's gay! Men disgust her.
The look that I get from some cops tells me that I disgust them. I know they're thinking something along the lines of "What freaks - they're lesbians" but they just go back to work without saying anything.
Finally, after what seems like hours, I can think straight and the questions have stopped. The police are off taking action instead of taking statements.
I'm taking advantage of the lull in activity.
Looking her straight in the eye, I ask Ashley, "It was Josh wasn't it?"
She nodded. "And his friends, like you said. They followed me home and jumped me when I got out of the car. They knocked me out..." Her voice is cracking and her eyes are filling with tears so I motion for her to stop and I embrace her as tightly as I can without hurting her. "It was horrible," she says in a small voice when I let go.
"Don't think about it if it helps," I advised. "But it'll probably make it worse."
"Are my parents here yet?"
Ashley's parents were visiting relatives in Florida for the week. They had been informed of course, but it was only a matter of time before they could book a flight and come home.
"No, not yet. They'll be here by tonight though. I spoke with them on the phone before I came in here."
"They aren't mad at you are they?"
"Me? No, no way. Your parents love me."
Ashley smiled weakly. "I keep forgetting that don't I?"
"You're just used to my mother, that's all."
A long moment of silence passed after that.
Finally, I spoke up. "I'm so sorry about this," I blurted suddenly. "So incredibly sorry."
Ashley looks confused. "It's not your fault."
"But it's my brother."
"And you're my girlfriend. It's not your fault. You can't control his actions. Besides, I'd rather live through this than not have met you."
I honestly can't think of anything to say to that. She means so much to me and it's comforting beyond belief that I mean that much to her.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too."
Hours passed and I did not move from that uncomfortable seat. I did not take my hand from hers and I did not let my thoughts wander. I did, however, put that coffee cup down.
I thought only of her.
chapter 12