Mistrust (16 page)

“Eeew, Dakota. That’s embarrassing.” She pushes me off her, but smiles.

“Ladies,” Miss Johnson, the head of the sports department, yells out. A hush falls over the vast space, all eyes shift forward and we all await the reason for this gathering. I notice out of my peripheral vision three women, all dressed in smart pantsuits, walking out to join Miss Johnson. “Detectives Miller, Garcia and Young have joined us because they want to talk to you.” She looks over at three police officers and smiles. “They’re all yours.” Miss Johnson moves to the side, and sits down at the front.

“Hello everyone. I’m Detective Garcia and my fellow officers and I are here to talk to you about your summer vacation.” She walks back and forth, commanding our attention. She attracts it easily. Everyone is listening, looking between her and the other two detectives. “We want all you girls to have a great time over the next three months. We’re sure you’ll be going to the beach, going to the mall, maybe even attending a few parties. You may even have a few drinks, although we can’t condone that.” She smiles and half of us giggle. “Some may even have sex for the first time.”
Cringeworthy.
But more laughs.

“We’re not here to tell you you can’t, although you really shouldn’t. We’re sure you’re all aware of the legal drinking age. But again, that’s not why we’re here,” Detective Miller cuts in and everyone’s attention shifts to her. “We’re here specifically because we want to bring to your attention something that’s been happening for a few years now, and will unfortunately continue until we stamp it out. Date rape drugs.”

Sam’s hand discreetly moves to engulf mine. She gives me a small squeeze and shifts her body closer to mine. My body reacts to the words ‘date rape,’ every muscle in my stomach tightens painfully and I have to make a very conscious effort not to double over in pain.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Sophie’s shoulders tense, and the muscles in the side of her neck stiffen. I hear her inhale sharply and breathe out just as viciously. I’m fighting with myself to not look over at her. Slowly I move my right hand down to find Sophie’s clammy one, gently clutching it with mine.

“Who here knows what RAINN stands for or who they are?” Detective Young now steps in and starts talking. We all look around the gym to see only a few hands have risen. “You there, what is RAINN?” she points to someone on the far end. I can’t hear the answer, but I can see Detective Young nodding her head. “That’s right. RAINN stands for; Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. It’s an Internet site set up to help survivors of sexual assault. There’s no judgment and anyone who listens to you will believe you. RAINN—that’s rain with an extra N on the end. Now I want to give you some statistics that have come directly from RAINN.”

“But first, I want to ask a question,” Detective Garcia steps forward, and in synchronized movement, Detective Young steps back. “How many sexual assaults do you think go unreported to the police every year? Here are your choices: thirty-two percent, forty-four percent or fifty-five percent?”

There’s low murmuring among the girls, but Sam, Sophie and I remain quiet. I mean thirty-two percent is huge, so I’m hoping the figure isn’t any higher than that. “Hands up. Who thinks it’s thirty-two percent?” Detective Young waits and most of us put our hands up, including Sam and me. “Now who thinks it’s forty-four percent?” A smaller number put their hands up. “And who thinks it’s fifty-five percent.” An even smaller number put their hands up. “Interesting.”

“Okay, everyone put your hands down. Now I want this side of the room to stand up.” She indicates my side of the gym. I look to Sam and Sophie and give them both a smile as we stand, still holding hands. The three cops are circling each other, when one speaks the other two step back.

“Do you know the name of every girl who’s standing?” Detective Garcia asks. “Just a yes or no.”

Collectively we all shout out the answer. Most girls say ‘yes,’ with a few saying ‘no.’

“All those girls have been sexually assaulted.” She points to those of us who are standing. The hair on my arms stand straight and a feeling of nausea rises up. “Just over four out of ten people are sexually assaulted. Forty-four percent.” She goes quiet and walks the length of the room. The three female police officers keep their eyes on us.

The room is chilly, the atmosphere thick from shock . . . or maybe terror. “Scary number, isn’t it?” Detective Young says in a solemn, heavy voice. “But do you know what’s worse than that number?”

Not a sound can be heard; it’s eerily silent. Everyone’s looking toward the cops, who have our complete attention. I can’t help but sneak a look sideways to see how everyone’s reacting to these horrific stats.

“Here’s the scariest part: the first two rows standing, keep standing, the rest of you sit down.” Sam, I, and Sophie all sit down along with most the other girls. There are only a few left standing down the front. “See these girls standing?” Detective Miller stands right in front a handful of girls. “These are the girls who go to the police and report it.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper tightening my grip on Sam.

“Sixty-eight per cent of you will not tell anyone. You’ll hold that in you, and never say a word. Maybe you’re too ashamed or maybe you think it was your fault. What you need to know is sexual assault is
never
the victims fault,” Detective Garcia takes over. Her words are harsh, but her tone is soft.
Holy crap, she’s describing me.

The room breaks out in horrified gasps. “What’s even worse than those figures is that four out five assaults are committed by someone the victim knows. Four out of five. Think about that for a moment, because it’s not the creepy old man your parents have told you to avoid, it’s not a random act someone commits because they see you walking home from school. Four times out of five the attacker is someone you know.”

My hands tremble with fear. I’m trying to calm down, but my body is betraying me. “It’s okay,” Sam whispers, clutching my hand even tighter.

“No, it’s not.”

“Scary, right?” Detective Young says. “To think so many of you have been or will be sexually assaulted by the time you turn eighteen. Your friend, the one you’re sitting next to, or the little sister you love, maybe she’s already been assaulted, or maybe she’s being groomed by someone she knows.”

Spit gathers in my mouth, but I seem to have lost the ability to swallow. My jaw is tightly clenched and all I can think about is Sam. I’m praying she hasn’t been touched. I sneak a look beside me, and catch her looking at me. There are tears in her eyes. My heart drops to my stomach and I can’t help but cry. My greatest fear has now come to light. By her reaction I think maybe she’s a victim, too.

“We’re here because we need to educate you on the facts. Summer vacation is hours away. You’ll be spending time at the beach, at parties, maybe even camping with your friends. But do you know the most common way these assaults take place?” she pauses and looks out over the sea of girls. “A drug is slipped into your drink.”

Oh my God.

“Remember, four out five assaults are perpetrated by someone we know. It could be anyone—a friend, boyfriend, brother, uncle, father or even a friend of theirs.”

The statistics are abhorrent,
vile.
My body’s reaction is even worse. I’m hot and cold, and I’m shaking uncontrollably. My skin is covered in pebbly goose bumps while my breath is caught in my throat.

“There are ways to safeguard yourselves so you don’t become statistics,” Detective Miller says. “First of all, don’t accept a drink from anyone. If you want a drink, go get it yourself. Don’t take a drink from anyone, not even your friends. Why? Because someone could have slipped a drug in there and even your friend didn’t see it. So it’s best to eliminate that threat completely and get your own drinks.”

“Second.” Detective Garcia holds up two fingers and continues, “If you put your drink down for any reason whatsoever, do
not
pick it up and drink it. It doesn’t matter if it’s full or almost finished. The drugs they use are tasteless. Some will knock you out within minutes; some may take half an hour. Some will immobilize you but you’ll still be awake and aware of everything being done to you.”

“Third, keep your hand over the top of your drink. Or better still, take a bottle of water with you and keep it in your hand and capped the entire time. If you put it down . . . tip it out and recycle the bottle,” Detective Young says.

“Remembering these actions may save you, but they’re only tips to help prevent an assault from happening. We can’t be everywhere at once, but we can give you the tools so you don’t put yourself at any higher risk then you already are.”

“We believe knowledge is power, and if you know these small life hacks, then maybe you won’t become a statistic,” Detective Miller says in a straight, no nonsense voice.

Nothing can be heard, not a word, not a whisper. Just the harsh reality of what almost half of us have already or will experience sinking in.

“And one of the most important things we will tell you is something you won’t believe if you are assaulted. You need to know you are not responsible for an abuser’s behavior. You are not at fault if this happens to you. You weren’t asking for it, you weren’t flirting, you weren’t dressed slutty.” Detective Young air quotes ‘slutty.’ Her piercing gaze captures each of us, but I feel like it lands and stays on me.

Shivering, I look away and focus on nothing. I heard what she said, I’m not responsible and it wasn’t my fault. But I can’t tell anyone now.
It’s too late.

By the time the three detectives finish talking, there are a lot of tears and an air of heaviness in the gymnasium. The atmosphere is thick with worry and dread, and there are many hushed whispers as we all file out. There’s a distinct shift in all of us. The detectives went over everything with us. From the affects a drug can have on us, to what we should do if we suspect we’ve been drugged.

Too late for me.

“We need to talk,” I say to Sam the moment we’re home. Grabbing her arm I drag her into my bedroom and close the door. “Tell me, Sam. Tell me it didn’t happen to you.” My heart stops as I wait for her to speak. “I saw the way you had tears in your eyes when the detective was talking about the statistics.” I begin to pace in my room, terrified of the words about to spill from her mouth.

“I was crying because it happened to
you.
And if those stats are correct, it won’t happen to me. You’ve taken something which could’ve made me the victim instead of you.” Her eyes are brimming with tears as she tries to hold them back.

“You’re the prettiest girl I know,” I say to her, trying to coax her into a sense of normalcy. “You know, you look exactly like Mom. You have this beautiful, thick blonde hair.” I gently reach out and brush my palm down her silky strands. “Your gorgeous, dark eyes.”

Sam smiles weakly at me. “We both have Mom’s eyes,” she corrects.

Breathing deeply I try to convey to Sam how important she is to me. “I’d rather it be me than you.”

Her shoulders fall and she buries her face in her hands. I try to hug her, but she shakes her head at me. “I know this is stupid, but I feel guilty because I would hate for it to have happened to me, and hate it even more that it happened to you.”

“You weren’t there, Sam. And even if you were, I’d never let it happen to you. Out of the two of us, I prefer this outcome.”

“I wish people like these monsters didn’t exist. And I’d prefer we didn’t have to hold our drinks and guard them in order to avoid getting drugged.” She looks up at me with the most deadly look in her eyes. The venom deep in her dark brown eyes can’t be mistaken for anything but what it is—
hatred.
“And I wish for the fucker who did this to you to be dead.” Her words are as calm as the ocean on the most serene of days. She means it, with every drop of blood in her body.

Lightning strikes my body with as much force as the eerily potency of Sam’s sentence. “I want him dead too, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“There is, Dakota. You have to tell Mom and Dad.”

“It’s too late now. It’s been almost two weeks. I should’ve told them when I got home, then maybe something could’ve been done. But I did everything the police said I shouldn’t have done. I came home and had a shower, washing any evidence off me. I’ve kept it a secret for too long, and now it’s too late.”

“It’s not. If you tell Mom and Dad they can do something.”

I half chuckle at Sam, her positivity blinding my reality. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Look, I need to get through tomorrow and then we’re going for two full weeks to Canada to see Aunt Carol and Uncle Ben. We’re going to spend time with Jamie and Alyssa and I’m going to work hard on putting this all behind me.”

Now it’s Sam who lets out a laugh. Though I know she’s not happy, because the only thing I see in her eyes is anger and the agony of the entire situation. “Is that what you think is going to happen? You can’t push it aside. You can bury it only for a while before it all erupts and comes to the surface.”