Page 80 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
A shout and rattle of the baby gate told me Bailey was up. I was a mother first. No rest for the wicked. I dragged myself up the stairs, brought her down, and plopped her in front of the television. I figured impending mental collapse was as good of an excuse as any for bad parenting.
I curled up on the couch, watching the dancing letters. Sanity slid away like a balloon lost at a carnival. I felt its loss with relief.
“Allie? What happened?” Shelly’s voice, garbled and distant. She was still above the surface, but I was down, down, down. Thank God she was here, I thought, someone to watch over Bailey. Because down here it was black.
The doctors and nurses left, leaving only the two cops on either side of my hospital bed. The woman cop shifted on her feet, very pregnant.
“Go on down,” the man told her. “I’ll wrap up and meet you there.”
She bit her lip, deliberating. She probably didn’t want to appear weak, like she wasn’t holding her weight against a man. Then again, she looked very uncomfortable. That appeared to win out, because she nodded and said, “I’ll see you in the cafeteria.”
“You’ll be okay,” she said, squeezing my hand. “It wasn’t your fault.” Practiced words, probably recited to all the rape victims, but they warmed me. Maybe there was hope.
After she left the room, the man took off his jacket and draped it across the foot of the bed. He questioned me, scribbling my answers on a notepad.
Yes, I knew my assailant. We’d been friends.
No, I hadn’t had sex with him before. Not with anyone.
Yes, I told him no. I’m sure he heard me.
The cop had just been a person-shaped blob to me in that room full of people. But he’d come closer to the bed, and only then did I notice his eyes were green. Green eyes, so rare. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen them before in real life. At least not ones so brilliant, so bright. The green eyes were narrowed.
“Reporting a rape is an important matter, Ms. Winters.”
I said nothing. He shifted closer to the bed.
“I can see that you’re upset,” he said. “But false accusations of rape have serious implications.”
I sucked in a breath. False accusations?
He pushed aside the flimsy paper that clothed me, exposing my breasts. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about you.”
No, I’d been wrong. There wasn’t any hope.
He pulled out a condom, speaking calmly while he put it on. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re a slut.”
She’d been wrong too, the other cop. I wouldn’t be okay.
“Look at me,” he said. I refused, but his hand firmly turned my head toward him.
He pulled my face closer, until I looked him right in the eye. I shut my eyes.
“Nobody likes a tease,” he said. “But don’t worry. I can get you through this.”
I wanted to die. I prayed that I would, that second, but no one heard me. No one cared.
It was my fault. It had to be, or why else would this be happening? It didn’t make sense. Make it stop.
And I thought, then, in the absence of any fucking clue of what to do, I would do as I was told. I’d said no before, and it hadn’t worked. It had only made him angry. With my eyes tightly shut, I opened my mouth to protest, to scream, but nothing came out.
“That’s right,” he whispered. “I can help you.”
I tried to open my eyes, but they were weighted shut. No, they were already open; it was just dark in here. It hadn’t been dark when I’d last been awake. What time was it?
I rustled in the linens. Bed. I was in bed. And it was night.
Fuck it all to hell.
