Friday, April 20, 2007

120. Record

I haven't written in a long time, but I haven't really felt like it. I didn't want to compromise any legal ongoings. I think we're done with that, and no names are mentioned, so I reopened 119. To the best of my memory, this was what has happened. Cut for triggering. It's mostly for my own record, ayhow. On Sunday, April 1, instead of walking into the store I work at, I crossed the street and walked into a Massachusetts State police station. I intended only to asked, "If a young women reports a rape, but she was drinking at the time, can she be charged with underage drinking? Can ehr friends be chracged with supplying alcohol to a minor?" I didn't get past the first few words before I started bawling. The officer took me in the back and asked me if I was talking about myself and if I wanted to report an assault--I didn't have to. I told her everything. She called my city's police and two detectives came over. I told them my story again. The first officer couldn't find any tissues, so she got me a roll of toilet tissue. I rode in the back seat of a police car for the first time in my life. The detectives took me to the hospital, and the older detective offered to talk me inside and explain the situation to the nurse. I wanted him to. A rape kit is the most humiliating thing I have ever experienced. You dont get to leave the room. If you need to pee, you have to do it in a commode, and the nurse has to be in the room. They cut your hair. They comb your body. They take your clothes. But I already changed, I told them, so they let me keep my clothes. It was just my work uniform, anyhow. They gave me antibiotics and shots and it was terrible. I never threw up, but I felt sick for a long time. I kept calling Katy, and finally I got through and she came to the hospital as fast as she could and all I could do was cry. She didn't know I was planning on reporting. Finally, the detectives from the Special Victims Unit came. Their unit wasn't realy called that, but I can't remember what the name really was. I told them my story for a fourth time, the third being when I told the nurse. They took the rape kit and left. Katy drove me home. It was 4:30. I had been at the hospital since 10:15, I walked into the state police station at 8:10. I went to bed and didn't wake up until 9 the next morning. I called out of work again, and the new assistant manager sounded pissed. Fuck him. I stared at my phone for another half hour before I figured out how to tell my mom. She and my dad dropped everything and caught the next flight up. I slept for the rest of the day until they arrived. When they got here, I went with them to the hotel and spent the night there. We watched PPV and ate pizza, and me and my mom went to pick it up and the pizza guy let us have a free 2 L. bottle of soda. I didn't tell anyone but Katy, and I know a lot of my friends were worried and I am really sorry about that. The next week didn't feel real--I was in and out of offices, laying in the hotel bed watching TV while my dad made phone calls, making phone calls myself. We finally got an appointment with the DA. I went and told them what happened again. They decided that we wouldn't be able to pursue anything because even though I was drunk and blacking out, I was not drunk enough accourding to MA law. In addition, even though I said no and even though witnesses can attest that I didn't like the guy, I also didn't shout for help or scream. It didn't help that I remembered getting the condom, although they thanked me for my honesty. They did tell me that even though they won't press charges, the kid's name is in the system. If he ever pulls anything like this again, they'll have all the more evidence against him. I hate him. I'm home now with my parents for the rest of the semester. I don't want to go back to the apartment. I don't want to be around people. I quit both my jobs. I've barely started on any classwork, but they're letting me finish the semester. I want to forget all of this--I wish it never happened. I hate him, and I hate myself for getting so piss drunk. My friends have been good to me. Most of them. I know who is worth keeping, at least. I'm safe now, too. My body is all checked out, any tests came back negative and I am not pregnant. That's a plus, right? But everyone is breathing down my neck to get counseling, call crisis numbers, blah blah blah. I made an appointment, isn't that enough? I'm not comfortable on the phone. Even with my best friend, I can't have long conversations because Id rather be there in person and not need to fill in silence. Silence over the telephone is creepy. But speaking of my friend, we reconnected and I get to see her soon and I miss her so much and she is too good to me. A lot of people aretoo good to me. Thank you.

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