Surviving the ravages of life

She nodded, slowly, deliberately, her mind turning. "Would I have to attend court?"

"No, not unless you wanted to. Either a court officer, or I could read it on your behalf. Of course, it does carry more weight if you read it out in person."

"How do we do it?" She asked.

"We draft a letter, explaining how it has effected you, your work, the way you interact with other people, how you had to find a new home, how you no longer trust men. Anything that has changed for you, we document."

The room drifted into silence as she decided on a path.

"Did you know your assailant?" I asked.

Her demeanour changed almost instantly. I saw her fingers picking at the cuticles on her hand nervously. She could no longer look at me. God, she trembled visibly.

"No, not really. I'd seen him around the flats, I think we even attended a party where he was, but I didn't know him, I'd never even spoken to him."

"Do you think he was stalking you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he had to be. He was waiting when I got home from work. I'd barely parked my car and had just put the key in the lock when he tackled me."

"Tackled?"

She nodded. "Yeah," She said, visibly shaking. just as the door opened, I felt his weight hit me in like a rugby tackle. He drove me to the ground inside. His hand over my mouth."

I could see how upset she was, I moved my chair closer, holding both her hands in mine.

"He turned around to shut the door, and I started screaming. That's when he punched me the first time. I couldn't yell, my mouth filled with blood, and then he punched me in the tummy which took my breath away."

This was going to take time. After every little release, or admission. She broke down again, her tears flowing like a cascade.

"Stop fighting slut." He snarled. "You're going to love it."

He ripped my uniform, and I got my breath back. "Please stop." I begged him. I fucking pleaded with the bastard."

I moved closer, our heads touching. "I'm sorry Phoebe."

"I started kicking when he tried to get between my legs, that's when he punched me again. I swung my arms, tried to hit him, but he was so much bigger than me. When he wrenched my hand, he broke my finger. I felt it break, and he slapped me, back handed."

"Shit, what a bloody shit." I muttered feeling her pain.

"He kneed me in the tummy and my legs, ripped my panties. He wrapped his hands around my neck, strangling me. I thought I was going to die." Her body shuddered, and I had to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Shush, that's enough for now."

She shook her head, a determined expression forming. "No, I need to get this out. If I don't get it out now. I may never have the strength."

I understood, and perhaps it's what she needed. "Go on Love."

"I thought I was going to die. I couldn't breathe. I tried to wriggle out of his grip. It probably saved me because he stopped strangling me to punch me again."

Hugging her trembling body, I held her tight. Stroked her back. "Shush, you don't have to say any more."

There was no stopping her though. "Then he forced it in me. No lubrication, just pushed it in me. I tried to push him off, That's when he broke my wrist and fingers on my other hand. I felt the pain in my shoulder. I thought it was broken as well."

Through her sobbing, she said. "He went back to strangling me, beating my head up and down on the tiled floor. I blacked out. I think he thought I was dead."

"I don't know what happened after that. I woke up when the ambulance people were leaning over me."

"Phoebe, did you tell the police all of this?"

She shook her head, looking embarrassed. "No, not all of it, I was pretty beaten up. Why, is it important?"

"Gosh yes... That assault went well beyond rape. I think the reason he wasn't worried about hiding his identity. Is, I think he planned to kill you. From what you just described. I am in no doubt about his intentions."

"Is that important?" She whimpered.

"Yes, god yes. It will get him a much longer jail term. Would you be okay if I document everything you just said, and I send it to the police?"

"No, if it gets the arsehole a longer sentence, then I am all for it."

It wasn't hard to see, she was struggling. Her emotions were so tightly stretched, it was time to call a halt.

Phoebe, had a hard time letting go. Having seen the same behaviours in other patients, I wanted to encourage her into the group discussions. I ran a couple of rape survivor support groups. They like most groups operate much like AA meetings, where attendees got a chance to share their stories, listen to others, and talk about day to day difficulties.

Our second session, was more about preparing her victim impact statement. I wanted the assailant to suffer. My assessment of him had changed, he was the worst kind of predator. He actually intended to kill Phoebe, leave her for dead. For that he needed to suffer.

During the week, I talked to the police, and armed with the new evidence, they felt much like I did. In fact talking to another phycologist, who specialised in psychotic behaviour. He felt that we were actually dealing with a psychopath.

It did mean, Phoebe, would have to go into the police station and make a formal complaint, and the extra information recorded. It would be the driver for the existing assault and rape charges to be upgraded to attempted murder.

"No, god no. I can't go down there. I won't." She said, her demeanour changing instantly. She had come into the office, looking better, more confident. Now, reduced to a terrified hysterical mess.

"Phoebe, it's the only way we can get the charges upgraded. I had hoped, because the medical records are so explicit, the police would accept a statement. However, they do require you to go into the station, and make a formal statement."

It wasn't exactly the truth. I could have arranged for officers to come here to her house to take down the statement. I wanted to push her a little. Get her out into the world.

"No, I don't care what happens. I can't go back there again."

"Phoebe, I can go with you. I would be right by your side."

She sighed, her head in her hands as she sobbed. "I'll make us a cup of tea. I know this isn't what we talked about. We would only be at the station for an hour at the most."

I passed her some tissues, as I made the tea. She sat back upright, and took the cup. "How have you been coping day to day?" I asked.

"Better, but I still can't go out alone. My friends have been great, but I can see they're getting sick of me."

"I'm sure that's not true, Phoebe."

"No, I can see it, and I hear it in their voices. They may not come out and say it, but they're all thinking. Why don't you just get over it."

"Some people may possibly have those feelings. In my experience though. It's more that people don't know what to say. They feel empathy for you, they're sympathetic, but can't vocalise it."

"How do you get on in shops, supermarkets, petrol stations?"

"I'm okay as long as I'm with friends. I can't do it on my own yet."

"What about work?"

"No!" She gasped. "I have asked for more time. They asked me to get a letter from you." She stared imploringly at me, as the words dribbled out.

"Of course. What time frame do you think you will require?"

"Is it possible to get a month?" Her eyes, beseeched. Her fingers laced tightly together in her lap, the knuckles so white.

"Of course. Can we talk about going down to the police station?"

She sipped her tea slowly, deliberately. "Phoebe, I could pick you up from home in my car. Once at the station, we would be assigned a room. You would only have to recount what happened, as you did with me. I would be there."

With no answer, I said. "I know how you feel Phoebe. It's not easy."

"What!" She screamed hysterically. "How the fuck would you know? Nobody knows how I feel. You all say I know how you feel, but you don't. You really don't."

I quickly jumped up, and rushed to her side. She pushed me away. "Nah, fuck off Sara. You don't know shit about how I feel. That arsehole stole so much from me. He took my confidence, my sense of self. He destroyed me."

Pushing my way past her flaling arms, I Wrapped her in a tight embrace. She stopped struggling eventually and hugged me back, her head against the side of my neck as the hysterics slowly diminished.

"You don't know." She said between sniffles. "Nobody does. I'm terrified every moment of every day. I can hardly breathe. It's easy for you to say I know how you feel but you don't."

On my knees beside her, I held her face in my hands, our faces close enough, we could feel the others breath.

"Phoebe, when I say I know how you feel. I mean it. I have been in your shoes, I have felt that anguish, that fear, the pain. I know first hand how you feel."

Her brows hooded over, and she stared back blankly. The recognition slowly becoming visible.

"You've been raped?"

"Yes, it's why I do this, why I volunteer as a victim support person."

"When?" She asked, trying to come to grips with my words.

"Ten years ago. I was studying at Princeton in America. On a scholarship. I made the mistake of going out with some friends for drinks. I was never a party princess. My experience was not like yours. It wasn't like the brutal physical attack you received. Mine was all mental."

Confused, she said. "I don't understand?"

"I wasn't physically assaulted. I was drugged, I didn't even realise what had happened. I woke up the next morning in the bastards bed. The smug prick trying to get his dick back in me."

"He drugged you?"

"Yes, when I woke up, he was trying to put it inside me again. I screamed. Christ I screamed. It was a dorm room so people came running. He tried to put his hand over my mouth but I bit him, and screamed rape."

"What happened?"

"He started yelling as well. He said. "Don't try to pretend you didn't like it bitch. It was consensual."

"Oh my god, what a bastard."

"Yeah, luckily the university security turned up, and I asked for them to get me to a doctors so I could get blood tests taken because I knew damned well he had drugged me. It was awful. I saw it in the faces of the security officers. It was like I was the fucking criminal. They asked whether I could prove it?"

Bringing back all those memories made me shudder. As much as I tried to reassure Phoebe. The feelings never really go away. For me, every time I had to recall those events. I felt the anger, the fear, the hatred all came rushing back.

Trying to get the words out was difficult. Staring into Phoebe's eyes, I said. "Their approach made me angry. I said the blood tests will prove it. Of course their reply was...How could I prove it was him that gave me the drug?"

"That must have been horrific." Phoebe, said softly.

"Yeah, but that's when I saw him pick something up and rush towards the toilet. I tripped him up and grabbed the vial from his hand and passed it to the security officer. 'This might be proof.'

"I could see they didn't want to take it, but they bagged it. While I was at the medical centre and they took blood tests, and recovered semen samples. A female security officer approached me. She wanted to get my formal statement. That's when she said I was probably wasting my time. It would be his word against mine. He maintained it was consensual, and that the drug was taken consensually."

"Fuckers." Phoebe hissed. "Fucking typical."

"I had one bit of information that I hadn't shared. When she said to me it was his word against mine. I said I'm a lesbian. I don't have sex with men. I promise you. It was not consensual."

"You're a lesbian?" She spluttered disbelievingly. "No way..."

"Does that shock you? If that offends you, I can get your case assigned to another therapist."

"What, no, god no. I guess I'm surprised, but it's not like I'm offended."

"Good."

"So what happened?"

It meant explaining the whole story. The guys father tried to get it thrown out of court. Being a wealthy local business man. He tried to make it go away. Even offered me a financial bribe to drop the case. Being as angry and affronted as I was. I decided to press forward.

He had it all though, the best lawyers money could buy. They tried to discredit my story. Made me out to be some sort of sexual deviant. Luckily I had plenty of supporting evidence to say that was not the case and I had never had any sexual connection with men.

I wasn't just angered by the legal system. The University pissed me off as well. They wanted to quash the story. Pretend it never happened. Thankfully the local media jumped on it. They were pretty keen to have a juicy salacious story to plaster across their front pages.

It didn't matter though, the little prick was given a suspended sentence, no jail time, although he was ordered to pay me a substantial financial award. What pissed me off the most was because his father was so influential, he didn't even get a criminal conviction on his record.

"Wow, that is awful. He got away scot-free."

I sniggered a little. "Not entirely. Some friends from the school gay community banded together with me, and we put up posters of him all over campus and around town, on every bar, lamppost, on car windows everywhere we could."

I couldn't hold back the giggle. "everywhere you went there was a poster of him, his photo front and centre with the words rapist, in big bold letters. What made it funnier. We used the University printers and supplies."

Phoebe giggled, and that sounded heavenly. So nice to hear her laugh. "At least he got some punishment."

"Not what I wanted, but it did bring some other girls out of the woodwork. Turns out I wasn't his only victim. When he went back to trial, he wasn't so lucky. Even with his fathers support, he got a jail sentence."

"Thank god." She sighed. "Fucking prick."

"Phoebe, it's why I'm pushing you. Please, we have to make that statement. I will be there with you, for you. Please don't let him get away with it."

She nodded. "I think I understand. Okay, if you promise to be there?"

"Yes. Absolutely." I couldn't help but grab her hands and kiss them. "Thank you."

She shook her head slowly. "No... thank you. I guess I've been so overwhelmed by my feelings and emotions. So self obsessed, I forgot that other people have been there and suffered as well."

"Phoebe, it's natural. It's how we process trauma. Our bodies become focused on survival, on getting through what is a horrific terrifying experience. Yours was so much worse because of the depth of physical abuse you suffered."

"Did you have to go to court?" She asked.

"Yes, in fact I wanted to go. They couldn't have kept me away. I wanted to look into his eyes and make it hard for him to lie."

"Did it work?"

"No, the bastard, he was pathological. He smiled at me, and lied his arse off."

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Let's talk about you. How can I help you Phoebe?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. I'm struggling to force myself just to go outside.'

"What if we went out to lunch tomorrow? Nothing big, just a salad or something somewhere?"

"You would do that?" She sounded so disbelieving, so pitiful.

"I would love to."

She nodded, her demeanour lightening. "Yeah, okay. It's been hard since Mum went home. When she was here, we did everything together. Now it's just me." Nervously, she whispered. "Where would we go?"

"Perhaps the waterfront... There are a couple of lovely restaurants down there, or if you want something less crowded, we could just pick one randomly."

I was surprised, when she opened her door. She looked brighter, happy might be a stretch, but she appeared ready.

"You look lovely."

She smiled, acceptingly. "Thanks, so do you."

Driving down towards the waterfront I asked. "How did the hospital take the news you would be away for another month?"

"They were okay. Not entirely happy, but they accepted it. Thank god for ACC."

"Yes, makes it easier."

Standing in the elevator at the parking building, I sensed her unease. I grabbed her hand, holding it tightly in mine. "It will be all right. I promise."

The crowd was large for a week day, but she held my hand tight, and we walked through the throng of people to find a restaurant where we could sit in the sun, do some crowd watching.

It started slowly, unlike our sessions, she started to talk more openly. We talked about where she grew up, her studies. Music preferences.

She surprised me when she asked. "When did you know you were gay?"

"I think I always knew. Unlike most of my girlfriends. I never got those feelings for boys, I never felt that attraction. However, I did get some uncomfortable urges in the hockey changing rooms. A couple of the girls on the team were very attractive, and I felt a sort of longing."

She laughed at my little joke. "Have you ever been with a guy? Like I mean, surely you must have been curious?"

"Apart from my rapist, which I totally discount. No, I'm proudly a gold card. It might be hard for you to understand Phoebe, but I've never felt any sort of attraction to men. I don't hate them, I've just never been tempted."

Seeing her little frown, I needed to know more. "Why did you ask?"

She tried to be flippant. "No reason, I was just being nosy... Sorry."

"No need for apology. I'm not embarrassed. I am out, and proud of who I am."

"You don't look like a lesbian..."

I laughed. "Really, that's nice to know. How do lesbians look by the way? Is there something I've missed?"

She sipped her cappuccino, clearly delighted in it's creamy taste. "Sorry, I've offended you haven't I?"

"No, not at all. Lesbians come in all shapes and forms Phoebe. We aren't all butch dykes."

"God, I know that, but I expected to get a signal or something. Some of my friends are gay, and I picked up on it without them telling me."

"Don't panic, some of my best friends are straight."

She giggled as our meals arrived. "Sorry, I'm being silly aren't I?"

"No, not at all. Don't worry, I've heard it all."

"Do you have a partner?"

"No, single at the moment. I have had relationships, but I have been single for a while."

"Intentionally?"

"No, it's hard to meet the right person. I don't do casual sex, I'm not a saint. I have urges, and I guess In the past I have had a few hookups casually. Now I'm looking for romance, I want to experience love, commitment. You know, the whole thing. What about you Phoebe?"

"No, I'm single as well."

"By choice?"

"Nah, like you. Still looking."

"What about relationships, anything longstanding?"

"Yeah, had a couple, but they broke down for different reasons. Moving, aspirations. The usual thing. They didn't blow up, just faded away."

We ate in silence, enjoyed a glass of wine, and then moved to the counter to pay. I felt her hand slide into mine, her movements strained, tight. I paid the bill, and asked if she would like to browse some of the shops.

In and out of some of the boutiques we meandered. Peered in windows, hunted through the sale racks. When she held a little black dress up against me, she said. "You'd look great in that."

I blushed. It wasn't something I would normally wear. The hem was very short, showed a lot of leg. "Wow, do you think so?"

"Yes, it's perfect, it really makes your auburn hair pop. Especially with your eyes."

"Um, okay. I did a little twirl in front of the mirror, it did look nice. "You should try it on."

I nodded, somehow, this girl had that affect on me. I drifted to the changing rooms, and pulled it on. I had barely shimmied into it when Phoebe's head popped between the curtains. "How does it look?"

"I'm not sure, I can't reach the zipper."

She walked into the tiny cubicle. "I'll get it." Standing close, I felt her hands on the dress, and then the zipper slid up.

After a little shimmer, I stood in front of the mirror. "God, there's a lot of skin on display." I gasped. The low vee cut front, actually showed my bra, and the hem, good lord. I hadn't worn anything that short since Uni.