In shame I grabbed my things and quietly made my way out the door. Before I left, I looked them all in the eye: my friend, her brother, and both of her parents.
And then I put my head down and silently got into the patrol car.
Please don’t leave me alone with my parents. They will hurt me.
While we are there they aren’t going to hurt you.
But you have to leave at some point, what happens then? What do I do?
Your parents aren’t going to hurt you.
Will you stay to make sure I will be ok?
I was nervous as they drove me. My own brother- my middle brother- had betrayed me. I thought I could trust him. What happened? Knowing my parents were not going to be happy about me telling the family secret, I didn't know what I was about to walk in to, but I was scared. There was not anything I could think to do. Since I had told the school, CPS, and the cops, I thought I would be safe. Yet, here I was being delivered back to the house to my angry parents by the cops of all people. My sense of safety had been challenged far to much in one day. Everything that I thought I knew about the world was being ripped away. There is no justice in the world.
What do I do?
As we stopped in front of my house, I again grabbed all my stuff in shame. Instead of shuffling quickly like I had everywhere else, I slowly stepped to my doom. I knew what faced me on the other side of this door was not going to be good.
Please don't leave me here. They are going to hurt me, I pleaded quietly one last time to the police.
Youre going to be just fine.
The officers knocked on the door. My parents opened it. They were upset, but not maliciously. The police officers walked in about 4 or 5 steps, not even fully into the etranceway of my house.
Well, it looks like everything is fine. Have a great night.
Spinning around in terror, I tried to catch the eyes of the two police officers to make one more silent plea. They never even looked back. The door closed. Then it locked. Both of my parents stared at me, their faces both contorting into rage. Suddenly neither one of them looked like the happy white family with problems they had first appeared to be. That's when I noticed we were alone in the house. My body went limp, all of my resolve draining from me.
Instead of confronting my parents, I tried to act nonchalant and walked into my bedroom to drop off my stuff. My stepmother followed me in to the room.
She must have held me down on the floor for over an hour and a half. She screamed at me and pulled my hair, slapping me when I did not tell her what she wanted to hear. All alone in my room, I knew there was not going to be anyone to save me.
Say it isnt true. Say he didn't rape you.
I cant. Its not a lie.
Youre lying. I want you to confess that you made it up.
I really wish I could, but Im not going to lie to you to make you feel better.
It happened. I dont care if you believe it or not. Im not going to start lying now.
Clumps of my hair were caught in her fingers because she had pulled so hard for so long. Again I would go to school without visible marks. CPS wouldnt believe me again. Part of me wanted her to beat me to a bloody pulp so someone would believe me. The rest of me wanted it all to be over, but it went on for what seemed like forever. My voice sounded further and further away as she berate me, trying to get me to crack, to admit it was all a lie. If I had to deal with it being true, then she had to too. Eventually I lay there motionless, all my energy gone. My eyes unfocused. My breathing slow and shallow. She finally let me be.
As she got up, I only remember her being frustrated at my responses. She slammed my bedroom door behind her as she left the room.
After a moment, when I was sure she wouldnt return, I got up and combed through my hair with my fingers. Bigger chunks of hair came out. Slumping in fear and shame I crawled onto my bed and lay down. I pulled my knees to my chest and lay there crying in the fetal position.
The cops just left me. They didnt even check to see if I was going to be ok.
Grabbing the blanket, I pulled it up over my head, as if hiding would help. In a deep depression, I quickly lost consciousness.
In the morning, I awoke before my father even opened my door. The fear had startled me awake as I heard him walk towards my room. The last thing I wanted was to be punched again.
Again I stuffed my backpack, but this time I packed it without the thought of getting any other items from my room. After everything that happened, I knew I couldnt even trust my own brothers, my father, or the stepmother who I had wished was my real mother.
I am all alone. What am I going to do? I cant trust anybody!
My father and I did not speak in the car the whole way to school. This time as I got out of the car, I didnt say goodbye. All my energy was gone. Instead I closed the door behind me and stood still, listening as the car drove away.
Bye, Dad, I thought to myself.
Then I walked into class, a shell of my former self.
This time I didnt tell anyone what happened. What good would it do?