This chapter SUCKS. I've got so much of my own characters that I don't think that I should be putting this under a fanfic. But, I promise, it will get better soon, and Spinner will play a major part in it. Me hopes you likes.
Oh, I'm soooo sorry for the way the formatting has been screwed up in previous chapters. I'm trying to fix this one so that it's clear where the scenes change.
And I don't own these characters. I don't really own the storyline either. I don't own the computer I'm writing this on. I really don't seem to own a lot.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I felt completely trapped. I had no idea how to explain it, and they were both waiting for an explanation. My mind searched for an explanation.
"I, uh, broke my nail after you left. I was sitting with my legs against my chest when I was filing my nails, and my hand was resting on my knee. It slipped and I wound up cutting my leg." Ashley seemed to buy it, but officer Collins didn't. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
"I've done that before," Ash offered. "It hurts. I'll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything." Her ride and my cell phone seemed to be forgotten.
"Despite popular belief, I'm not an idiot," he said when she was out of earshot. "I know that you didn't do that by filing your nails."
"I did," I protested.
"Then why didn't your jeans rip?" He had me there. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know how you're feeling. What happened to you is awful, and the fact that we can't charge him yet is even worse. But I do know that however bad it is, it's not worth what you're doing to yourself."
"What do you know?"
"A lot more than you may think." He pulled up his sleeve on his left arm and revealed many scars. They weren't all that obvious, but they were there. "I have a legal obligation to report this."
"Please, you can't."
"I have to."
"It's not like I've done this before!"
"Are you going to tell me that your wrist is wrapped up because you fell on some broken glass?"
"That was the first time. I swear. I won't do this again. Please."
He sighed. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you."
"I know. Just don't tell anyone."
"I won't, on the condition that you continue talking to Ms. Sovet at least once a week, and you go to a support group at least twice."
"I've tried those before. They don't work."
"There's one that works very closely with the police. They meet twice a week, at the rec centre near your house. If you don't, I will talk to your mom."
"Fine," I agreed.
"And if I ever see that you've cut again-"
"You won't."
"Good. But if I do, I will report it."
"I know. What were you saying about charging him?"
"I don't want to get your hopes up yet, but each student at Bardell has their own login for the computer. If I can prove that the computer was logged in under his name, I should be able to charge him. And that will get the ball rolling. Then, we might be able to charge him for the phone call. And if we can prove that he was threatening and harassing you, then we might be able to prove that he raped you."
I refused to be happy. I couldn't get my hopes up, and then have them crashed again. I just nodded.
"Do you have a ride?"
I shook my head. "I was going to walk."
"Why don't you let me drive you?"
As much as I wanted to be alone, my leg was burning, and I didn't trust myself to make it home without falling apart. "Is he going to be in the car?"
"No, he's gone. I called back-up and they've already taken him." I reluctantly agreed.
"Just one thing," I told him as we were getting in the car. "Can you drop me off a couple of blocks away. My neighbours gossip a lot."
He agreed. "You should really clean that cut."
"I will. What time do I have to be at this support group thing?"
"Six o'clock. . . do you know the girl that Dean was with today?"
Manny. "Kind of. I tried warning her before. She doesn't believe me."
"You've talked to her about it before?"
"She wouldn't listen."
"Some people just don't."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I met him when I was playing co-ed soccer at his school. He was on his schools team. He asked me out after the game."
I looked up at the girl. She looked my age with shoulder length red hair. She had pale skin, and a beauty mark just above her lip. I got goose bumps listening to her.
"He was good-looking, popular, the whole package. I don't get a lot of attention from guys. It felt good. So I went to the party.
"I got there, and he focussed on me. It was like I was the only one he was interested in. So, when he asked me to go outside, I said yes.
"We went into his car. I felt a little uncomfortable, but I let it go. We went into the back, and he kissed me. Hard. I told him to stop. He wouldn't. I told him again and again. But the more I said it, the harder he pushed. Finally he. . . he pulled his pants. . . he. . ." she started breaking down. "He raped me," she finally whispered. I locked eyes with her. I had to talk to her. Was it possible that Dean had raped her too?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hey," I said to her softly after the meeting had been "officially" ended. I sat down beside her. "It's Jena, right?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."
"It's Paige."
"You're new here, aren't you?"
"What was his name?" I blurted out.
She looked surprised. "Who?"
"The guy who. . . the guy."
She looked at her hands. "Dean Roberts."
Oh, I'm soooo sorry for the way the formatting has been screwed up in previous chapters. I'm trying to fix this one so that it's clear where the scenes change.
And I don't own these characters. I don't really own the storyline either. I don't own the computer I'm writing this on. I really don't seem to own a lot.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I felt completely trapped. I had no idea how to explain it, and they were both waiting for an explanation. My mind searched for an explanation.
"I, uh, broke my nail after you left. I was sitting with my legs against my chest when I was filing my nails, and my hand was resting on my knee. It slipped and I wound up cutting my leg." Ashley seemed to buy it, but officer Collins didn't. Thankfully, he didn't say anything.
"I've done that before," Ash offered. "It hurts. I'll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything." Her ride and my cell phone seemed to be forgotten.
"Despite popular belief, I'm not an idiot," he said when she was out of earshot. "I know that you didn't do that by filing your nails."
"I did," I protested.
"Then why didn't your jeans rip?" He had me there. "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know how you're feeling. What happened to you is awful, and the fact that we can't charge him yet is even worse. But I do know that however bad it is, it's not worth what you're doing to yourself."
"What do you know?"
"A lot more than you may think." He pulled up his sleeve on his left arm and revealed many scars. They weren't all that obvious, but they were there. "I have a legal obligation to report this."
"Please, you can't."
"I have to."
"It's not like I've done this before!"
"Are you going to tell me that your wrist is wrapped up because you fell on some broken glass?"
"That was the first time. I swear. I won't do this again. Please."
He sighed. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you."
"I know. Just don't tell anyone."
"I won't, on the condition that you continue talking to Ms. Sovet at least once a week, and you go to a support group at least twice."
"I've tried those before. They don't work."
"There's one that works very closely with the police. They meet twice a week, at the rec centre near your house. If you don't, I will talk to your mom."
"Fine," I agreed.
"And if I ever see that you've cut again-"
"You won't."
"Good. But if I do, I will report it."
"I know. What were you saying about charging him?"
"I don't want to get your hopes up yet, but each student at Bardell has their own login for the computer. If I can prove that the computer was logged in under his name, I should be able to charge him. And that will get the ball rolling. Then, we might be able to charge him for the phone call. And if we can prove that he was threatening and harassing you, then we might be able to prove that he raped you."
I refused to be happy. I couldn't get my hopes up, and then have them crashed again. I just nodded.
"Do you have a ride?"
I shook my head. "I was going to walk."
"Why don't you let me drive you?"
As much as I wanted to be alone, my leg was burning, and I didn't trust myself to make it home without falling apart. "Is he going to be in the car?"
"No, he's gone. I called back-up and they've already taken him." I reluctantly agreed.
"Just one thing," I told him as we were getting in the car. "Can you drop me off a couple of blocks away. My neighbours gossip a lot."
He agreed. "You should really clean that cut."
"I will. What time do I have to be at this support group thing?"
"Six o'clock. . . do you know the girl that Dean was with today?"
Manny. "Kind of. I tried warning her before. She doesn't believe me."
"You've talked to her about it before?"
"She wouldn't listen."
"Some people just don't."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I met him when I was playing co-ed soccer at his school. He was on his schools team. He asked me out after the game."
I looked up at the girl. She looked my age with shoulder length red hair. She had pale skin, and a beauty mark just above her lip. I got goose bumps listening to her.
"He was good-looking, popular, the whole package. I don't get a lot of attention from guys. It felt good. So I went to the party.
"I got there, and he focussed on me. It was like I was the only one he was interested in. So, when he asked me to go outside, I said yes.
"We went into his car. I felt a little uncomfortable, but I let it go. We went into the back, and he kissed me. Hard. I told him to stop. He wouldn't. I told him again and again. But the more I said it, the harder he pushed. Finally he. . . he pulled his pants. . . he. . ." she started breaking down. "He raped me," she finally whispered. I locked eyes with her. I had to talk to her. Was it possible that Dean had raped her too?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hey," I said to her softly after the meeting had been "officially" ended. I sat down beside her. "It's Jena, right?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."
"It's Paige."
"You're new here, aren't you?"
"What was his name?" I blurted out.
She looked surprised. "Who?"
"The guy who. . . the guy."
She looked at her hands. "Dean Roberts."