Page 77 of Precise Justice

Still sitting at the table, she took her phone from a pocket to call her father. The fog was starting to clear from her head. The call went to voicemail, she hung up, then remembered the big event from the night before.

Robbie had done a make out threesome with two girls last night. These were not trans girls. She had known both of them and they confessed to being bisexual. They also admitted they had planned doing this with Robbie, the pretty trans, for months.

Robbie had three encounters with trans girls from their support group. This was her first with birth girls. At first, she was not sure whether she was supposed to like it or not. But she had to admit, she didn’t not like it.

After a few minutes of thinking it over, she decided it was okay. Would she like sex with a man? That was the unanswered question.

When Blake called back, they chatted a bit and made plans for dinner one night next week. Not for the first time, Robbie realized how much happier Blake was and that he had become a better man, a better father and an all-around better person.

THIRTY

Dear Diary:August 21st

I am becoming more and more excited each day. As you know, classes at St. Kate’s in St. Paul begin next week. Even better, I am moving out of this mausoleum away from Mother Dear. I will be living on campus in a dorm for my freshman year. Hooray! I feel like I am escaping.

At the freshmen orientation, I met my roommate. Her name is Cynthia Palmer. She is also a trans girl. I think we were put together on purpose.

We, Cynthia and I, found our room in Crandall Hall. It is made for four people but we will be the only ones to use it. It’s very nice.

Cynthia seems nice, at least so far. I got the impression her family had money. A lot of money.

Her dad is Ronald Palmer. He isCEO of Palmer Electronics. Dad invented some parts for computers that makes them run faster. Cynthia doesn’t know what it is or how it works. I don’t either.

I had another experience (sexual) with a girl. I won’t write her name down. This time, (there was one other time with her), we both got naked. She ‘went down’ on me. I must confess it did feel good but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I mean to do that to a girl. She tells me she is bisexual but prefers girls. It’s all too weird for me yet.

Mother Dear’s drinking is getting worse. I found her downstairs, sitting in the dark front room, drinking and crying, alone. She finally confessed missing my Dad, and she even confessed being sorry she treated him so poorly.

I didn’t have the heart to be cruel to her. I thought about it, but didn’t say it. Dad says he’s happy for the first time in years. He feels like he escaped. I won’t let him go back to her. She did this. Bye for now, Dear Diary.

October 18th

Robbie regained consciousness at 3:47A.M.Her head and face were swollen and hurt so much she could only move her eyes. Theroom she was in was dimly lit. Robbie did not know where she was, what had happened or how she got there.

Upon seeing the television set anchored to the wall above and in front of her, she realized where she was. A hospital room. Robbie was lying in a hospital bed. It was dark except for dim lights along the floorboards. Just enough light for her to see the wall clock through her swollen eyes. 3:49 and it must be after midnight.

At four o’clock, a nurse quietly came in to check on her. In the dark, the nurse could not tell that Robbie was awake. The nurse, her nametag was Kathy, went to the side of Robbie’s bed and leaned over her. It was then that she noticed Robbie’s eyes were open.

“You’re awake,” Kathy said leaning over her. A statement, not a question.

Robbie’s eyes blinked and she tried to speak. “Hmmm, hm.” This was the best she could do. Robbie did not know it, but her jaws were wired together on her left side. Among other things, she had a fractured jaw.

Kathy told her about the jaw being wired. Robbie, with some difficulty, was able to mutter what sounded like “car accident.”

“Car accident?” Kathy asked.

“Hmm,” Robbie said trying to speak while very slightly nodding her head.

“Sweetheart,” the older woman said, “I hate to tell you this. It’s much worse than a car accident.

“You were assaulted. You’ve been badly beaten. You have multiple injuries you’ll be told about later this morning.

“What’s worse is, you were also sexually assaulted. Several times. Both vaginally and anally.

“The good news is, you’re going to be okay. It will take time, but none of your wounds are fatal or at all permanent.”

By now, three or four tears were running down the side of Robbie’s face.

Kathy continued by holding a syringe and a small bottle of a clear liquid while saying, “I am to give you something for the pain and to help you sleep.”