Violated

CHAPTER 1


The smell of the room was nauseating. It felt like I was outside of my body, floating around and watching everything happen in slow motion. As I sat on the edge of the table, my mind went blank. Had this really happened? I felt nothing. I was totally and completely numb. I heard the door knob turning slowly. A woman in hospital scrubs came into the room. She was accompanied by another woman in a police officers uniform. The woman with the hospital scrubs began to speak to me, but I didn't really hear what she was saying. Her voice sounded muffled. When I didn't answer her (I knew she asked a question by her body language and facial expressions), it was like she knew I couldn't speak.

She moved toward me and lightly touched my shoulder, then gently pressed on it for me to lie down. Both of the women had a look of such sorrow and empathy. I knew what they expected of me. I placed my feet into the cold, metal, outstretched arms at the end of the table. I knew the woman in hospital scrubs was getting samples from me because she kept placing large cotton swabs into a tube and laying it on a tray. I could not feel anything…no pain…nothing at all. As I lay there, all I could do was stare at the small, brownish green circle of a ceiling panel that had been violated by some kind of liquid. Violated…Violated…Violated. That was the only word that filled my mind.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the woman in the hospital scrubs took my feet out of the metal arms and helped me sit up. As I started to ease myself off of the papered table, she held up a finger, motioning me to wait. The police officer left the room and came back in with a large camera. With a empathetic look, she said "sorry" to me. I didn't hear her, but I knew what she said. The woman in the hospital scrubs removed my gown. When she did, both women looked at me with such horror, such pity. The officer started taking photos of my naked body. Click, Flash…Click, Flash…Click, Flash. Every flash the camera let off, a different image flooded my mind. The images didn't go together like frames of a movie. They were jumbled, out of order, and in incomplete pieces…a man's face…a wall…a clock…a pair of cowboy boots.

The officer handed me a pair of navy blue sweats. My mind was beginning to un-fog. She told me to put them on because she had to keep my clothes for evidence. She told me to let her know when I was dressed so she could come in and talk to me for a while. As I was putting on the sweats, I turned and saw a person in the mirror that was on the wall next to the sink. A person I could not recognize. I raised my hand and slowly, timidly, touched the image in the mirror. Just as slowly, I took my hand off of the image and placed it on my face. I stood there in complete shock and horror. That was me in the mirror. I looked down at my body. I touched the places that were sewn together like a rag doll that had been torn apart by the family dog. I moved to the places that were bandaged. The dressings were stained with crimson red. Then, I slowly moved to the places that were discolored with an almost black tint. They felt hot, like your skin does after you get a sunburn, and I could feel the liquid building up inside them. I had to get dressed. I had to cover my exposed body. I just couldn't handle seeing myself anymore. I couldn't handle it anymore, emotionally or physically. The pain was starting to register in my brain. It was hard to breathe, hard to move, and hard to think.

The officer knocked on the wooden door and asked if she could come in. I told her it was ok in a very shaky, scared, quiet voice. She opened the door and closed it behind her. She sat in the chair that was up against the wall. She started asking me questions. All I could do was remember the jumbled, out of order, incomplete flashes of images. The last thing I remember was her saying the word "violated", then my world went black…and silent.