April Raintree (18 page)

“So, you're a real fighting squaw, huh? That's good 'cause I like my loving rough.” He laughed at that.

The driver said, “Hey, we're only supposed to give her a scare. You're talking rape, man.”

“Shut up, dummy. And slow down. We don't want to get stopped now. You're in this as much as us,” growled the man beside me. So, he was the leader, I thought.

The other man in the front snickered and turned to eye me. I wondered how he knew I was part-Indian. Just because I had long black hair? I didn't pay too much attention to what the driver had said about just giving me a scare. I figured that this had started as a lark to scare women and now the leader and his accomplice wanted to rape me. Maybe I could count on the driver to help somehow. And maybe they weren't out to do any killing. I just didn't know. I hadn't been in Winnipeg long enough to know whether there had been a rash of rapes and killings going on. Maybe that's what was going to happen to me. If they had knives it would be a whole lot worse. They could torture me to death, cut me to pieces, or beat me up and leave me to die in the cold somewhere, all bloody and broken.

“Oh, God, I want to live. This isn't the way I want to die. This isn't my moment to die,”
I thought. I trembled with fear. More horrible thoughts rushed through my mind.

The night ahead could only be shameful, humiliating and even if they didn't physically wound me, it would be tortuous. I braced myself mentally and physically so I would be able to face up to anything they did. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop them from abusing me physically so I'd try to be like a rag doll. But I'd close my emotions and mind off. Maybe it wouldn't affect me so much.

The leader was groping at me and he grabbed me again, roughly. I grit my teeth and sat rigidly, trying hard to ignore his hand, trying hard to be like a rag doll, trying hard to show no reaction. I smelled the liquor on his breath as he leaned toward me. Then his hand slid across me. I pushed his hand away and pressed against the side of the car. He was saying vulgar things to me, watching my face at the same time. I guess he wanted to reduce me to nothingness.

“Hey, you guys, we're going to have to teach her some manners. I'm trying to make her feel good and she pulls away. The ungrateful squaw.”

As they laughed, the leader grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. One minute he was laughing, the next he was saying in a low, frightening voice, “Listen, you little Indian, I know you want it so quit pretending to fight it, okay? Or I'm really going to give it to you.”

The man beside the driver was watching and he asked, “Hey, man, could I have a turn with her?”

“Don't worry, you'll get your turn soon enough,” the leader said ominously.

We were out in the countryside somewhere. I didn't know where because I had lost all sense of direction. They had turned the interior lights on. The leader moved in on me, trying to take off my jacket. I pushed his hands away and for a few minutes my anger overcame my fear.

“You filthy, rotten freaks!” I yelled. I threw myself at the leader, trying to scratch and bite him. “You keep your filthy, rotten hands off me!” I was panting from a mixture of my anger and exertion.

I could hear them laughing like lunatics. The leader held me from him with ease but I managed to scratch his face, drawing blood. This enraged him and he swore. Then he followed his cursing with a hard punch to my midriff. That knocked the wind out of me and sent me flying back against the left side of the car again. My head hit the window. The leader than grabbed the front of my blouse and ripped it open tearing the buttons off. Undaunted, I tore back into him, again.

“Why you little savage! You're asking for it.” He gave me a back-hand across the side of my head, which made my ears ring. He resumed trying to take my clothes off and I tried my hardest to stop him. That's when he systematically started hammering into me. I could hear the driver making weak protests.

After his merciless onslaught, I was too weak to try to defend myself anymore.

“All right, you guys, mission accomplished. Hey, dummy, you gonna drive all night? Park this thing someplace. Maybe we'll let you join the party,” he laughed, as he turned his attention back to me. “Yeah, you little savages like it rough, eh?” As he prepared to actually rape me, I shifted, trying to block him once more. Without saying a word, he slammed his fist into my ribs, which felt as if they'd already been broken.

Then he said very softly, “You do that again and I'm going to lay you wide open. You understand?”

Defeated, I lay there listessly, my eyes half-closed because I didn't want to see his face but at the same time, I didn't trust him to close my eyes completely.

Suddenly, I felt the pain of his thrust tear into my body and my eyes opened wide with terror. I struggled again to get away from him. Again, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head to the side. “You want me to lay you open?” He could see the terror in my eyes. I think that was what he enjoyed the most.

“What's the matter, she giving you trouble?” the man in the front seat with the driver asked.

“Shut up! I can handle her.”

He thrust into me again as if he were stabbing me with a deadly purpose. It was pure agony. Inside my head, I screamed long and loud, trying to block everything out.

“Hey, she likes this, boys. These squaws really dig this kind of action. They play hard to get and all the time they love it. You love this, don't you, you little squaw?”

After what seemed an eternity, he withdrew, only to exchange places with the man beside the driver.

I don't think I could have fought anymore, even if my life had depended on it. Besides, I thought, the worst was over. But it wasn't. The rape by the second man inflicted a whole new pain but of the same intensity. My moans were muffled into the car seat. And all the while, he giggled wildly.

When he finally withdrew, he said to the driver, “It's your turn, dummy.”

“Naw, I don't think so. I don't feel like it,” the driver said and I knew he was scared. The others knew it, too.

“You're going to, dummy, whether you like it or not. You're in this with us all the way. Now get back there and do it,” the leader ordered.

The driver came to the back. He pretended to and then he told them he was finished.

“You sure?” the leader asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” the driver answered.

I lay there not daring to move, lest it drive them back into more activity. But now that they had finished, what would they do with me? Would they kill me or let me go?

To my great dismay, the leader exchanged places with the driver and came to the back again. I raked my mind desperately for thoughts on how to put a stop to all of this but my mind was jumbled up. Then one idea came. I put it into action. I began to pretend to vomit. That had its desired effect.

The driver yelled, “She's going to puke all over the place. Get her out of here.”

The leader and the driver both jumped out of the car, the leader to put on what clothing he had taken off and the driver to reach in the back and drag me out. Then he grabbed all my clothing and my purse and threw them out after me. I continued with the pretense of wretching.

When the three of them had straightened their clothing, the third man who had been laughing through all this, yelled, “You dirty squaw!”

I heard the leader also begin laughing, as the car doors slammed. I didn't let up on my pretense. When the lights came on, I was able to make out the license number just before the car sped off.

CHAPTER 12

I was free and I was alive! As I put on my clothes, I kept looking in every direction, fearful they might return. I would run for safety into the fields, even in the deep snow in my bare feet if I had to. Tears ran down my face but I didn't sob. I was finally dressed and started down the road in the opposite direction which they had taken, praying I wouldn't run into them again. As I walked I repeated the license number. Out in the open with no Obstruction to impede it, the wind shrieked with icy glee. But it didn't touch me. It must have been thirty below but I didn't even feel the cold. I was numb and beyond feeling. I strained for any sounds of an approaching vehicle and often turned to look behind me. I had no idea where I was.

Finally, I saw a light in the distance. I felt fear and hope at the same time. When I neared the light, I saw that it was a farm yardlight. Then I heard a dog barking. As I walked down the driveway, a large German shepherd came out to inspect me. It continued it thunderous barking all the way to the porch door. A porch light was turned on and a man looked out cautiously. From the way he looked at me, I'm sure he at first thought I was some drunken squaw who had gotten into a fight and had been thrown out of a car. Begrudgingly, he asked me in only after I told him I had just been raped and would he please call the police. His wife came into the kitchen where we were and she offered me a cup of coffee. I asked if I could use their washroom and left while he called the police.

When I came out of the washroom, they asked me what had happened. The chill that hadn't touched me outside caught up with me in the warmth of their kitchen and I began to tremble so violently that the woman went and got a blanket off their bed. Tears streamed down my face and my teeth were chattering, although I still didn't sob.

When the RCMP came, I expected that they would insinuate I had somehow provoked the rape. But the two officers were soft-spoken and kind. They wanted me to show them where the car had been parked and on the drive there, I had the unreasonable fear that they, too, might turn on me. We soon came to the place where I had walked into the deeper snow to get my purse. When they finished examining the tire tracks and the area, they drove me to the hospital back in Winnipeg. I sat in the back seat, my teeth still clicking together from a coldness that just wouldn't leave me.

They took me to the Emergency at the Health Sciences Centre where Cheryl had been taken just a few days earlier. The doctor on duty examined me and took the swabs and samples that would be required for court purposes, if they ever caught those rapists. Then I was sent for x-rays because of all the bruising. The x-rays showed no fractures or broken bones so the police took me to their headquarters to take my statement. They told me to recount everything exactly as I remembered it. The whole thing took a long time and it was taxing. While I quietly talked, tears rolled down my face. It seemed to me my voice droned on and on and on but at last I was finished. They told me they would be talking to Cheryl in the morning to see if she had any ideas on possible motives, since I was initially picked up at her door. When they drove me back to the hotel, they informed me that they would later have me look at some pictures to see if I could make any identifications.

On the drive back to my hotel, they also said they would have to take all my clothing for purposes of evidence. They waited outside in the hall while I changed into a nightgown and robe. Once they had gone, I took a long bath. My whole body was aching. Although I stayed in the bath for a long, long time, I couldn't get rid of their smell. I tried to fathom why they would do such a thing, but I couldn't. It was beyond reason. Later on, in bed, every once in a while I'd give a shudder when the visions of the night became too clearly realistic. It was a long time before my tensions eased off. I stopped shivering and I finally drifted off to sleep.

I was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on my door. It was Cheryl and two officers, although not the same ones as the night before. They had picked her up from the hospital and brought her to the hotel. Cheryl at first was going to throw her arms around me but as she saw me brace for the pain, she stopped.

“Oh, April, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault you came here in the first place. I'm sorry.”

“It's all right, Cheryl. I'm okay. Really.”

I looked at the two officers. One of them said they would like me to go with them to look at a car. They said they'd wait for me in the lobby while I got ready.

After they left, Cheryl again said, “This is all my fault.”

I was dead tired and I snapped, “Oh, Cheryl, stop it. It's not your fault. It just happened.” I felt awful for using such a tone of voice so I added in a lighter tone, “I need a hand getting dressed. I can barely move. You available?”

She nodded and helped me in silence.

Before I left, I asked her to wait for me and we would go together to get her things and the rented car. As we were on our way to the Public Safety Building, the RCMP officer told me they had seized the car and arrested the owner. I would have to identify both the car and its owner. Some of my buttons had been found in the car so my identification was merely routine. But a little while later, I identified the owner as one of the rapists from a line-up. He looked very scared, almost like a little boy. Even though he had taken part in the heinous crime against me, I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. All I really wanted to do was hate him. I remembered that he, Stephen Gurnan, had done nothing to try to stop what had happened. My feeling of sympathy disappeared.

When I returned to the hotel, Cheryl was waiting for me. “April, you look exhausted. Maybe you should try and get some sleep and I'll go and get the car and that. Do you want something to eat?”

“Yes, I'm starved. And I need some coffee. Are you sure you want to go back alone?”

“Oh, sure. After this, I don't care if Mark does make a scene.”

After we had eaten and she made sure I was comfortable, Cheryl left. I got out of bed and ran some water into the tub. I got in and then ran the rest of the water as hot as I could stand it. I lathered myself with lots of soap. I had to get rid of that awful smell on me. I could smell it as if they were in the same room as me. Their dirty, stinking bodies. I could feel their hands all over me. I had to get rid of that feeling, too. I scrubbed wherever I wasn't sore or bruised, sometimes hitting a sore area that brought back new pain. But no matter how much I scrubbed and lathered, I still felt dirty and used. It was no use. I cried, my tears rolling down my cheeks into the water, because it was no use. I couldn't get myself clean. I would never be clean again, free from the nightmarish visions.