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I shrug my shoulders. I really don't know. I feel like I've been raped, but I am not sure if he technically did it.

"I don't know," I whisper. I can't say more. I am trying hard not to break down now, not to lose it. But he wants me to let go.

"That's okay," he says and pulls me in his arms. He just holds me tightly, his cheek resting on my head and his hands rubbing my back gently. "I'm so sorry, Abby."

I can't hold back any longer. I feel my sobs shaking my body, and it feels so good to cry in his arms, to let it all out, and I'm glad that he knows and that he's here for me.

"I wanted to make him stop, John. But I couldn't, he was so strong. He kicked me when I tried to do anything," I sob into his chest.

"Hey, this is not your fault. There was nothing you could have done," he says and holds me even tighter in his arms.

To hear him say this helps me a little.

He just holds me until my tears subside. Then he pulls away slightly, just enough to look at me. I know what's coming next. We've seen way to many victims in the ER for me not to.

"We have to go to the hospital."

"No," I say, falling back into his arms, clinging onto him. "I can't do this, please don't make me do this," I plead and shake my head.

I know he is right, but I don't think I can do it. I'd feel so embarrassed.

I've talked to a lot of victims in the ER and I was never disgusted, but it's different when it's you. You think people will look at you in a different way if they know.

"I'll go with you. You won't be alone, okay?"

I know I have to go. I need to know and it's the only way to find out. I don't really care about my rib. But I have to know if there are any signs of rape.

Actually, do I really want to know? It's bad enough already. It's just that it would make me feel better to know that he didn't ... I still can't even think about it.

But I can't imagine facing the people at County now; I feel so weak and ashamed. I know there's no reason to feel like that – doctors deal with rape victims everyday. But this is me. It is not someone, it is me. And I don't think I can do this.

I know he will make me go eventually, and truthfully, I'm glad for it. I couldn't bring myself to do it alone.

I am still in his arms, looking at his chest. I want to stay like this forever. I just want to be comforted by him. I still haven't answered him.

"Hey." I feel him stroke my hair before he kisses the top of my head. "I won't leave your side. I'll be there for you. You don't have to be scared or ashamed."

"They'll all know about it and it'll get all over the hospital," I say, as my last attempt to object.

"Nobody will know why we're there, okay?"

I finally nod. I don't know how, but I know that with him by my side, it will be okay. Somehow.

He pulls back again and kisses my forehead before he gets up. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get you something to wear."

He runs a finger down my cheek one last time before he goes.

I feel vulnerable immediately without him. I hope it won't be like this forever. I can't always ask him to be with me. I know he would do it, but I can't let that happen.

I'm relieved when he reappears quickly, just as he promised, with some jeans, a pair of shoes, and a jacket. I felt naked just in his shirt.

He also carries a bag over his shoulder and some more clothes under his arm. I object, refusing to stay at the hospital –  I want to go home with him again. But he wants to be prepared.

***

I am sitting on the bed, dressed now, watching him pack a few things for me.

I can't stop wondering why I can't remember what happened. How is it possible that I don't know exactly what he did to me? Not knowing is driving me crazy.

I bend forward and cover my face with my hands. I just want all this to stop.

He notices and comes back, kneeling down in front of me, taking my hands in his.

"Hey, it's going to be okay."

I look into his eyes. "Why can't I remember what happened?" I ask him, almost pleading for an answer. "It was so ... how could I forget what exactly happened?"

"That's the reason. What you had to go through …" He pauses for a moment. I know all this is hard for him, too. But he manages to be strong for me. "Your body tries to protect you. It lets you forget the worst to protect you."

"Do you think they'll find him?" I whisper. They have to find him. How will I ever be able to feel safe again if they don't? He could be anywhere.

"I am sure they will," he says, squeezing my hands reassuringly.

"But how can they?" I ask desperately. "I hardly remember anything." I'm starting to panic. What if they'll never find him?

"You will remember when you are ready."

I am just starting to believe him when I realize how stupid I was. My body tenses and he notices, asking me with a look what is wrong.

"The ... I took a shower. I washed all evidence away. I shouldn't have done that ... how could I do that, John? I know better than that … "

He cups my chin with one hand to make me stop. "Shhh, you did nothing wrong. The shower was what you needed and you had the right to take it. I am sure they will find him."

He wouldn't lie, would he?

"And we have your clothes."

I am still worried and shaking when he pulls me towards him and I sink down to the floor in front of him to let him hold me once again, as he kisses the top of my head gently.

I don't know what I did to deserve him. I will never forget how much he helped me, especially today.

Finally he gets up and pulls me up with him.

"I'll go get your clothes," he says gently, as he takes the plastic bag he brought with him earlier and goes into the bathroom. I'm glad he is doing that for me. I don't think I could look at them again.

While I am waiting for him, the exhaustion hits me and I realize how tired I am. But I don't want to waste even more time. I want to get this over with and start to forget.

It's only a few seconds before he is back, shoving the plastic bag into the duffel holding my other clothes, stripping off his gloves.

Gloves. That's when it hits me somehow. He used gloves to get my clothes. Suddenly it feels so real. It's like with any other victim of rape in the ER.

Of course it's not exactly the same. He's not treating me like any other victim. He's my boyfriend and loves me. He's suffering from this about as much as I do.

But the procedure seems the same.

"You ready?" he asks softly, brining me out of my thoughts, and reaching out his hand, inviting me to take it.

I shake my head. But I take his hand anyway and follow him towards the door.

***

We are in the Jeep now, driving to the hospital in silence.

His hand is on my knee, absently forming patterns across it, while my hand rests on his.

It is raining now and I watch the drops fall against the window and slide down slowly. It distracts me from my thoughts while he's driving and can't. And the sound is soothing.

I feel him look at me every now and then to make sure I am okay. I love him for his caring about me. I have no idea how to thank him for this.

After what seems like only a few seconds, we arrive at County.

He turns off the engine and looks at me, waiting for a sign from me that I'm ready to go in.

I can't give him that sign because the problem is that I am not ready. And I never will be. He has to make me go and he knows that.

"Do you want me to get Susan for it? Or do you want someone else?" he asks carefully, hardly above a whisper, trying not to startle me.

All this feels so familiar. Only that back then, when Brian hit me, I didn't think I was raped. At least not until Susan found the concussion on my thigh.

I didn't have much time to think about anything. Susan was there, so she did it. We weren't exactly best friends back then. It was the opposite almost. But in the end it was good that it was her and not someone else.

I sigh deeply and shrug my shoulders. Despite all that, I don't know what I want.

Maybe it's easier if it's a stranger. Someone who doesn't know me. Someone I will never see again, someone without any emotional bond.

Susan would understand, though. She would never judge me – she's my best friend. But I might be more embarrassed with a friend than with a stranger. Though she did it once already. But this time it's different. It's not only about me, it's about her as well. I don't know if I can put her through this again. Discovering that her friend was raped.

That's also why I can't let John do it. I thought about him doing it. And he thought about doing it as well, I know it. But it's just not right. He shouldn't have to do this.

His thumb rubs the back of my hand. "Let's go in first to see who's there."

I nod and he gets out of the car. We leave my stuff in the backseat for now, but he takes the plastic bag with the clothes I was wearing with him.

He comes around to my side and I grab his hand, holding it tightly as we walk in together.