The grass squished under her saddle shoes as she escaped onto the lawn of the intimidating building. She had made it though yet another horrible day and was looking forward to the warm cup of coffee waiting for her at home. She heard a shuffle behind her, but thought nothing of it. She suddenly felt a hard object pushed into to her back and a gruff voice.
"Shut up and keep walking," the voice growled as he directed her toward a lone Cadillac in the corner of the school's lot. Rory obliged and slid into the front seat with no arguments. She tried desperately to keep the tears from falling as the car sped away from the school.
She looked tentatively at the gunman and shook her head. She didn't know his name but she knew his face. A fellow Chiltonite. I have English with him, she realized sadly. She finally gave up and let the silent tears make their mournful journey down her trembling jaw.
Pulling into the long private drive, a house folded out in front of her, frighteningly huge and alarmingly cold. He dragged her out of the car, the gun visible as he pressed it against her hip and pushed her toward the door.
She struggled against his heavy body, as he captured what wasn't his. She pushed him off and tried to run but he grabbed her arm and smacked her into the frame of the wall. She crumbled to the floor, screaming in pain. She looked up at him pleadingly as he pushed her all the way down. She cast her eyes away realizing her fight was useless. She slammed her fists into his chest in a conclusive attempt before he seized her. She cried as her body tried to twist away from his resistant, sweaty one. He growled pulling gun from the floor. Swiftly, he slammed the butt of his gun against her head and finished his work. She turned away once more and looked at the wall as a trail of blood trickled from her brow. She prayed it would all end as she silently counted backwards from 100 in Spanish.
He dropped her off at the schoolyard. Throwing her coat and backpack after her as he peeled out of the lot. It was dark when she pulled open her cars door and slumped inside the plush seat. The wind whipped around her as she slammed the door against it. She hunched into the seat and bowed her head. She cried softly, gently rocking her bruised body.
It was nearing midnight and she was aimlessly driving through the neighboring areas of Hartford. The gas gauge leaned close to empty but she knew she couldn't go home. If she went home she'd have to face them. Face life. Face the fact that she was, was, raped.
She wiped her eyes violently was she spun the car around heading back to the highway.
She ended in front of the bright lights of a Hotel 6. She looked at the intriguing scene before her. She, however, declined and forced herself toward the hospital.
"You can't call my mother," Rory persuaded nurse as she grabbed her arm.
"We have to sweetie. It's procedure," She smiled wanly.
"Then, I'll leave," Rory stood and began to collect her coat.
"Alright," the nurse closed the door and proceeded to attend to the frail young woman.
"Thank you," Rory tried to offer a smile.
"I'll call her later and tell her something, but you need to promise me you will tell her," the nurse looked up at the sullen girl who merely nodded in defeat.
"Rory, " Her mother called as she entered the hospital room. She rushed over and hugged her daughter when she saw her lying under the starched sheets of the hospital bed; "I was so scared. Thank God, you're ok."
"Yeah," Rory replied weakly.
"Go back to sleep. You go home tomorrow," Lorelai kissed her daughter's forehead and slouched into the chair beside Rory's bed.
Rory looked disgustedly at her room. Her clothes were placed uniformly in her drawers. Her bed was made neatly. Her carpet freshly vacuumed. Why couldn't it be messy? If it were messy it would give her something to do. She picked up her stuffed Rooster and threw it angrily at the wall.
She solemnly stood and padded to her bookcase. Her eyes graze across the titles. She sighed loudly. Jane Austin lacked its usual appeal. Sylvia Plath seemed insufficient. Dickens's titles barely held her interest.
Reluctantly, her hand grabbed the Chilton yearbook. She turned the bound leather annual over in her hands, inspecting the cover. She opened up to the sophomore section. She thumbed through in search of the face of her rapist. She cringed when she found him. She examined the name, William McCabe. She remembered, vaguely, her grandfather speaking of him. She grimaced at the thought. She quickly slammed the covers together in a loud clap and discarded the book on the floor with a thud.
She groaned and rolled onto her stomach. She examined the bruise on her upper thigh that was nearly the shape of Africa. She pressed firmly on the purple mark and bit her tongue. Her lips turned into a frown as she curled into a ball and forced herself to sleep.
"Did you hear what happened with Gilmore?" the first voice said as Rory passed down the hallway
"Yeah, William McCabe bedded her," a laughing voice replied as the young man began wildly bucking his hips.
Rory winced as a tear slid out of the corner of her eye. She listened as other whispers echoed in her eyes. Slut. Shameless. Tramp. Whore. White trash. Wannabe. Mary Magdalene.
She quickly escaped into the ladies' lavatory and slumped down onto the floor of the last stall locking the door behind her. Her body retched as she experienced a flashback.
She was suddenly back under William beating him mercilessly with her tiny fists. She felt herself getting weaker and weaker as her body succumbed to the sobs that ravished her. She held her knees to her chest and wiped her eyes dry. Breathing deeply.
She looked down at her bruised arms and legs. She pulled violently at her short skirt and sleeves. She slipped the sleeves over her hands and pulled the skirt past her knees. She slammed her head against the cold metal of the stall and screamed.
No one heard. No one came running. The scream was far from aloud. It was lost amongst the turmoil of her mind. She unexpectedly remembered the way she had reacted when she saw Dean. He had smiled at her, even though they had broken up, as she passed Doose's Market. She wanted to shriek as her mother traipsed her through out town, unaware of the true source of her daughter's detachment.
Rory stood abruptly and walked out of the stall splashing water on her reddened face and proceeded toward the exit. She broke into a run when she saw the enticing light shining in from the big glass doors that lead into the courtyard. She was almost there when she ran clear into the arms of none other than Tristan. She pushed passed and cringed as he grabbed her arm in the same spot William had. The bruise throbbed under the pressure as Rory flailed her arms in an attempt to break free. Tristan watched in horror as tears sprung from her eyes. He shuddered at the look of fear and desperation in the depths of her blue eyes. He immediately released her and watched as she dashed out the doors. He instantly followed.
He found her in her car, rocking herself in a noiseless rhythm. Back and forth. Back and forth. Freely crying. He stopped a few feet back and tentatively approached the broken girl.
"Rory," Tristan whispered stepping back.
"Go away, " She sniffled.
"What happened?" Tristan asked stepping forward slowly. He noticed she seemed to shrink back with each step he took.
"Nothing," she muttered softly, praying he would just leave.
"It doesn't look like nothing," Tristan squatted at her feet and looked up at her hidden face.
"Well regardless of what it may look like, it's nothing," Rory repeated.
"Then why are we out here, with you crying. Covered in bruises," Tristan questioned.
"Well I don't know, why don't you just leave."
"I heard about William, but somehow I can't believe it," Tristan watched as Rory tensed at the mention of William. He observed as she drew her knees up to her chest and trembled. She remained silent.
"Did he hurt you?" Tristan asked as he pushed her hair away from her red face. She pulled back only slightly and let him wipe away her tears with his thumbs. She looked straight into his eyes motionless. He knew the answer. He quickly looked away biting his lower lip, unsure of what to do.
"Want to get away from here?" Tristan asked. Rory looked at him skeptically, then nodded. Tristan wrapped a single arm delicately around her and when she didn't pull back he hugged her close to him before leading her to his car. Rory didn't know why she was trusting Tristan but he didn't have a gun and she was thankful for the escape from Chilton.
"Thank you, " Rory barely said as the school grew smaller and smaller in the back window. Tristan merely handed her a tissue and laid his blazer across her.
When they pulled up into Tristan's driveway she had a flashback from the other day and slammed her eyes shut painfully. Tristan looked over at her offering an encouraging smile.
"I promise I won't hurt you," Tristan squeezed her hand tenderly.
"I'll give you a bat if it will make you feel more safe," Tristan offered as he opened the front door. Rory smiled weakly.
"I'll be right back," Tristan said as he headed off to the right. He returned with a bat and a cup of hot coffee.
"If the bat doesn't work I can dump the hot coffee on you," Rory's laugh was fragile as it barely echo down the hallow hall.
"Come on," Tristan lead her up the stairs.
"Umm. I don't know if you want to go in. It's my bedroom, it's up to you," Tristan stated as he opened the door widely. Rory clenched the bat in her hand and headed in. Sitting on the recliner in the corner she sipped her coffee.
"So, " Tristan started as he wiped his palms on his black pants, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." Rory voice came out dry and melancholy. She burrowed into the chair and yawned.
"How about you sleep?" Tristan suggested as he grabbed a blanket and extended it toward her. She looked at it suspiciously and let Tristan drape it over her shivering body.
"Sweet Dreams Mary, " Tristan whispered as he left the room. Rory watched as he courteously exited the room then closed her eyes.
"No," She whimpered as she thrashed in her sleep, "Get off of me,"
Tristan sprinted toward the room when he heard her cries. He slid down onto his knees in front of her sleeping form and grabbed her thrashing arms pulling her into his lap.
"Rory, Rory, wake up. You're ok. I'm here," Tristan nervously stroked her coffee brown hair. She slowly relaxed to the touch. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Tristan?" She whispered, "What are you doing?" She climbed out of his embrace.
"I'm sorry," Tristan began, "I came in, you were thrashing and screaming in your sleep I didn't know what to do. I was only trying to calm you down. I didn't think."
Rory watched the look of anxiety that was etched clearly upon his face as he talked. She silently reached a finger out and placed it on his lips.
"Thank you," She stated simply when he stopped talking. She slowly lowered herself back into his embrace and let him hold her. She found comfort in his arms.
"When you wanna talk, I'm here," Tristan whispered into her hair as he felt her breathing get heavy again. He leaned his back against the bed and soon fell asleep himself.
"Tristan," Rory whispered when she woke up a few hours later. Tristan stirred from his sleep and smile at Rory.
"Can I help you?" he asked dazed.
"I wanna talk now," Rory looked down at her hands. Tristan merely nodded and let Rory begin.
"Then I finally convinced the nurse not to tell my mom the truth so my mom doesn't even know. I don't know what to tell her. I'm so scared she'll be mad," Rory finished as teardrops slithered down her cheeks. Tristan sniffled and wiped his own teary eyes before the tears could fall.
"She won't be mad," Tristan whispered, "At least not at you."
Rory looked doubtful. She bit her lip engrossed in thought. She wanted to believe her mother wouldn't be mad but she had an unsettling feeling she would blow up. Tristan carefully rocked Rory in his arms, uncertain of what to do or say.
"Will you come with me when I tell her?" Rory turned to look up at him.
"Of Course," Tristan replied, "Today?"
"No." Rory answer was abrupt and immediate.
"Okay."
"I don't know when," Rory dejectedly stated.
She stared down at the tiny white stick then back up to the clock. She sat down on the toilet under the glow of the fluorescent light. The wait was an eternity to the petite girl with her knees pressed to her chest. When she looked back at the clock again, it was time. She turned the tiny stick over in her hand. Blue. It was blue. She frantically read the side of the package. Blue indicates pregnancy. Where was the 'not'? This could not be happening.
A tear escaped her eye and landed with a splash on the cold cream counter surrounding the sink. She picked up the test and tossed in the trash before covering it with more trash to hide it. She wiped her tears and pinched her cheeks to make the redness more even.
She heard her mother pull up as she emerged from her bathroom. She quickly slipped out the back door not in the mood for the round of 20 questions her mother would put her through if she saw her face.
She walked the short distance to the center of town. Kicking a stone as she stopped in front of the market. She took a deep breath before she entered.
"Hey Rory," the voice startled Rory and made her jump.
"Hey, you ok?" Jess asked when he noticed how anxious she was. Rory nodded her head and grinned.
"I'm fine," Rory smiled one more time and headed further into the market. She stopped to watch Dean as he hauled heavy boxes from one end of the store to the other. She squeezed her eyes shut begging the tears not to come. She realized she wasn't ready to face the reality of it all. She spun on her heel and left market.
Rory headed to the edge of town before looping back toward home. Her mother's car was gone again. Rory entered the house to find a note from her mother.
Hey kiddo,
I came home but you weren't home. I gotta work late tonite. Big convention. Lots of people. Wish me luck. Michel is the other one staying to help. Ahh. You're on your own tonite.
Love ya,
Mom
Rory smiled at her mother's note before she grabbed her own keys from the table by the door and left.
She drove out of the town and away from it all. She headed north. She knew where she needed to go and what she needed to do. She showed up at his door a half-hour later.
"Hello, Miss Rory," The kind plump face of Olga the maid peeked out from behind the heavy pine door, "Do come in. I'll call Master Tristan and let him know you've arrived."
Rory entered the large, dark foyer. She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right foot and back again. A few moments later, Rory smiled when she saw Tristan familiar form headed down the stairs. He smiled and kissed her forehead as he led her up to his room. The walk was silent neither spoke, neither needing too.
"I can't stop crying," Rory stated plainly as she fell back into the mounds of the comforter covering his bed. Tristan scrutinized the girl sprawled out on his bed and grinned.
"I can imagine," He leaned on his elbows as he laid stomach down next to her.
"This is ridiculous," Rory suddenly began to laugh hysterically. It frightened Tristan.
"Rory, calm down. What's going on?"
"It was blue," She shouted, "BLUE! FUCKING BLUE! Not white, not pink, BLUE!"
Tristan took a moment to process the news. He quickly realized the meaning behind the words. His mouth hung open in shock.
"What am I going to tell my mom now?" Rory cried pounding her head into the mattress.
"The truth," Tristan confirmed.
"I hate this, " Rory slammed her fists into the bed.
"I know,"
"You're not helping," Rory pointed at him.
"Sorry," Tristan rolled off the bed onto the floor and stared at the ceiling, "Did you get a rape kit?"
"Yes." Rory answered leaning her head off the side of the bed.
"We can nail that asshole, you know that right."
"Yes." Rory stated now kneeling on the bed.
"Come on," Tristan pulled her toward the door.
"Where are we going?" Rory inquired following him to her car.
"To tell your mother."
"We can't tell my mother," Rory shouted after Tristan. She sprinted down the stairs in order to catch up.
"Give me one good reason," Tristan faced Rory. Rory merely slid into her car and started the engine. Tristan was right, again. Tristan smiled over at Rory.
"She's at the Inn," Rory informed Tristan, "She's working. Can't this wait?"
"She'll take a break," Tristan explained as they parked.
"Mom," Rory called as she entered the crowded lobby, "I'll be right back." Rory disappeared into the crowds of people and slid into the kitchen where she found her mother propped up on the counter sipping coffee.
"Rory, what's wrong? Why are you here?" Lorelai asked as she slipped down and embraced her daughter.
"We need to talk," Rory stated softly, "Can you take a break?"
"Sure, Let me tell Michel and I'll meet you at home in 5, ok?" Lorelai asked.
"5," Rory repeated as she exited the kitchen.
"So?" Tristan asked when he saw her.
"She'll meet me at home in 5 minutes."
Five minutes later as promise Lorelai entered the house calling for Rory. Rory pulled her into the kitchen. They sat in silence until Lorelai finally spoke.
"What's up?" Lorelai asked concerned.
"I'll be out in the living room," Tristan began to get up, but sat right back down when he saw the look Rory threw at him.
"There's something you need to know mom," Rory began, "I was, I was. I was raped."
Rory managed to get out as her mother grasped and grabbed her hand.
"OH baby, when? Where? WHO?" Lorelai shouted the last part as she rose from her seat.
"William McCabe, You know that day I was in the hospital?" Rory asked.
"Did you get the rape kit?" Lorelai asked as she sat down hugging her daughter. Rory's nod confirmed she had.
"We are so nailing that asshole," Lorelai proclaimed as she searched for the phone, "Where the fuck is that damn thing?" Lorelai cussed as she began throwing things throughout the living room.
"There it is," Tristan declared as he grabbed the phone from the mantle. Lorelai snatched it and frantically dial the police.
"Due to the impending evidence, we charge William McCabe guilty of all charges. Case dismissed," The judge rapped his gavel one last time signifying the conclusion of the hearing.
Rory smiled as she watched William being read his rights. Then they handcuffed him before they lead him out of the courtroom. It only took 15 long months for this to happen.
Tristan reached across the median and hugged her tightly. Rory turned and smiled at him.
"I love you," She whispered.
"You too, kid." Tristan kissed her temple.
"Who's up for some Luke's coffee?" Lorelai asked as she came up to the pair.
"I am," Rory smiled taking her son from her mother's arms.
"Here there, little guy," Tristan began cooing at the baby.
"Don't talk to my baby like a freak. I don't want my baby scarred for life," Rory laughed as she smiled down at Christopher Janlen.
"Hey, I should be allowed to talk what ever way I want. He is my son too," Tristan beamed as Rory placed Christopher into his arms. She smiled thankfully Tristan being there was a blessing.
"Only by adoption," Rory pointed out with a giggle to show she wasn't being crass. Rory gleamed happily that Christopher looked nothing like his father.
"Doesn't change a thing," Lorelai remarked as the exited the courthouse.
There is no difference
Between being raped
And being pushed down
A flight of stairs except
That the wounds bleed
On the inside
There is no difference
Between being raped
And being run over by
A truck except that
Afterward men ask if
You enjoyed it
There is no difference
Between being raped
And going head first
Through a windshield
Except that afterward
You are afraid not of cars
But half the human race
-Marge Piercy