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And then release it.
I do it again, but it provides no relief. I lean into the wall again. A nurse asks me if I’m okay. I can’t answer. I’m spinning out of control, the room with it, enclosing around me. My stomach burns and my throat feels like it’s on fire. Images of Barrette’s body lying in the woods rush through my mind so quickly I can’t see them, but they’re there. It’s flashes, and each one makes me sicker than the next.
I find a garbage can and throw up, and then realize I’m sobbing and curled up on the floor. I lay there, I don’t know for how long, but the next thing I know, there’s a nurse rubbing my back.
“Asa?”
I lift my head, unable to focus on anything other than the stark white floor.
“She’s asking for you.”
I stand, move as if my body is doing things my mind can’t quite comprehend. Maybe I’m in shock.I swallow excessively, trying to clear the lump in my throat. It’s fire, and nothing soothes the pain. I run my hand through my hair. “Is she okay?”
No answer. At least not to that question. The nurse with wide brown eyes blinks and helps me up. “I’ll take you back to where she is.”
With shaky knees, I stand and follow her. Through the doors, they lead me to a room in the back corner with glass doors. A curtain is up, shielding her from the sight of others on the ER floor. The nurse looks back at me, then slowly opens the curtain. “She’s a little out of it at the moment. The last of the Rohypnol is slowly coming out.”
I tip my head, and squint, unable to focus. My eyes burn so badly in the harsh fluorescent lighting. “The what?”
“We ran some blood work. Her blood alcohol content is .32 and we found Rohypnol in her system. It’s commonly referred to as the date rape drug.”
Someone drugged her? Nodding, I don’t say anything. Inside, my heart beats harder, my body tensing. I can barely keep from falling to the floor.
My eyes land on Barrette, a thick white blanket covering her from the chest down.Bite marks cover her shoulders and neck. Deep ones that leave blood and bruises. With each pass over her body, my hands shake, hell, my heart fucking shakes. It’s the worst imaginable pain I’ve ever felt. It’s worse than watching your mother die slowly because at least with that, I knew eventually she’d find comfort in death.
Seeing Barrette like this… nothing is taking this pain away. These wounds are forever. I can’t imagine what this is going to do to her.
“You can sit with her, but the police are going to want your story.” She motions behind her where two cops stand outside her room, watching me.
Sitting in the chair next to her bed, I stare at Barrette. The bruises, the marks, it’s too much. “I found her, that’s all,” I cry, tears rolling down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I have no idea who did this.”
Removing the gloves she had on while checking Barrette’s vitals, she nods slowly. “Where are her parents?”
“I don’t know…. I can call them….” I stop speaking because… I don’t know, seems irrelevant. I don’t know her parents’ number, or even if they’re still around. I don’t know anything anymore.
She hesitates, like she doesn’t know whether or not to believe me. “We’ll take care of it. A doctor will be in shortly.”
And then she leaves me alone with her.
“You’re okay,” I whisper, brushing my lips across her temple. Clearly she’s not okay, but I said the same thing to my mom hours before she died. I didn’t want her to suffer and I thought if I said she was fine, she would be.
For two hours, I sit beside her. I call my dad and explain where I am. Another hour goes by and Barrette’s parents haven’t shown up, but from what I can remember of them, they were never very involved in her life.
They give me a shirt to wear since I used mine to cover Barrette up, and it smells like medicine. It reminds me of the nights spent in the hospital with my mom, begging for a cure that wouldn’t come.
A sexual assault nurse comes in and tells me I need to give them a blood sample. I do without question. I have nothing to hide. The police question me, twice. I don’t think they believe me, but it’s up to Barrette to give her side, if she can.
And then I sit and recalculate the night, try to decipher the looks she got from the guys at the party. I try hard to pinpoint who it could have been and come up with nothing because I don’t know any of them anymore. Four years can change a lot. And then I think to myself, I don’t know anything about Barrette either. I have no idea if she was a virgin. Not that it matters, but it crossed my mind many times in those two hours.
I watch her, surveying the marks, the bruises, it’s different under the harsh lighting of the hospital room. Reality sinks in, and I begin to understand whoever did this was angry with her. They had to be to inflict this kind of pain on her.
It’s another hour later before Barrette comes around. She looks at me and says nothing. She doesn’t ask what happened, she doesn’t ask why I’m sitting beside her… nothing. No words. Tears flow down her cheeks and she reaches for my hand.
I hold hers, breathing out slowly. I won’t talk until she’s ready.
The doctor comes in and sits next to her. Her eyes drift to his. “Barrette, you’re safe here. Nobody is going to do anything you don’t want them to, but I need to know if you want him in the room while we discuss this?”
I look to Barrette for her reaction. She reaches for my hand and holds it.