Where Courage Ignites

13. The Fight

January 22nd, 2018

"I don't want to fight," I said to Taylor, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes anxiously darted around the hallway outside the dean's office.

"Listen to me, Gabby," She spoke calmly; resting her hands on my shoulders and making me face her. "You can do this. You are brave, strong, and courageous. This won't kill you."

"Yeah, it won't kill me, but it sure could make my life a living hell."

"But what if it doesn't? What if we get on the other side of this and realize this is what ended up helping you cope, and helping you move on?"

I scoffed in response as my eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

"Do you want to walk away?"

"Yes," I quickly responded. "I do. I want to ignore it. I want to go on pretending like this never happened."

"I wish that this never happened to you, either, but that's not reality. The fact is that it did and that you can't ignore it anymore."

I dropped my head, "I know."

Taylor brought her arms around me, saying, "Think of the other women Anthony might target next if he walks free. Think of finally receiving closure for yourself."

I released a long breath. "Okay," I said. "I'm ready."

Taylor guided me over to the office and held the door open for me. I stepped up to the receptionist's desk, Taylor standing right behind me. I watched as her wrinkled hands slowly typed at the keyboard in front of her, not wanting to interrupt. I nervously glanced behind me to Taylor, who then cleared her throat. The woman suddenly looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't see you there. How may I help you?"

"I would like to speak to the dean about a sexual assault."

"Mrs. Phillips is in a meeting right now, could you come back later?"

"But it's about a sexual assault."

"I understand, but she has meetings this morning. Come back around one. I'll pencil you in. What's your name?"

"Gabriella Montez."

"Your meeting with her is scheduled for one, alright? Is there anything else I could do for you?"

"N-no," I gave her a weak smile and left the office with Taylor.

Once the door closed behind us, I whispered to Taylor, "I can't believe that! That was just ridiculous."

"Who could the dean possibly be meeting with that's more important than a sexual assault report? Freaking Jesus?" Taylor scoffed.

I quietly giggled in a fleeting moment of bliss where my anxiety loosened its hold on me. "I guess I'll just have to go back during my open period," I moped, remembering the daunting task ahead.

"You should be in there right now," Taylor shook her head disapprovingly.

"Are you free at one?" I asked her.

"I…I have biology, but we're not doing anything important. I can be here."

I shook my head, "No, go to class. I'll be fine."

"I'll be here if you want," she offered. "Gabriella, I'm not going to prioritize something like school over my friend."

I felt a smile tickling at my lips when I said, "It's okay. You've already done so much for me. I can handle this."

I adjusted in my seat for approximately the fourth time as I waited in the uncomfortable chair by the receptionist's desk. I glanced across the room above the dean's office door to the clock, showing 1:14. With my eyes fixating on the loose carpet fibers on the floor, I began thinking about the battle ahead. I would need to be courageous when the moment came, and I somehow felt confident with the small arsenal of courage burning in my heart. In due time, I trusted myself to see to it that Anthony was going to be entirely incinerated.

"Gabriella," A tall, dark skinned gentleman approached me.

I simply looked up at him and stood in response, my voice cowering in the back of my throat.

"My name is Mr. Reynolds. I'm one of the counselors from the guidance office." He spoke quieter, "I understand you're meeting with the Mrs. Phillips about a sexual assault today, is that correct?"

I croaked, "Yes."

"Okay, there will be another student in there with you. If that makes you uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Mrs. Phillips is just too busy to fit both meetings in today. I believe it could be beneficial to have the support of someone who has experienced something similar as you give your report. It's entirely up to you. What do you want to do?"

I didn't need to think about it, it was now or never. "I'd like to meet with her today."

"Alright," Mr. Reynolds led me over to the dean's door and held it open for me. I took in a breath and nervously clenched my hands into fists at my side and entered the office.

The dean, Mrs. Phillips, was staring over a piece of paper on her desk as she quickly wrote on it. Without taking her eyes away from her work, she ordered me, "Take a seat."

I glanced at the open chair, when my eyes naturally connected with the girl occupying the other seat. Mr. Reynolds may have had good intentions, but this particular girl and I would certainly not have some amazing bonding moment and support each other. I could tell by her spiteful glare and unwelcoming body language that she despised my presence. I couldn't blame her. I would feel the same way if someone kept intruding on my space.

I took my seat and looked ahead to Mrs. Phillips, Martha's eyes still burning into the side of my face.

"I understand that both of you have sexual assault reports to file today."

We remained silent.

Mrs. Phillips glanced up from her work, "That is what this meeting is about, correct?"

I nervously cleared my throat, shaking loose the constricting feeling from it, "Yes."

"Excellent," she said and my eyebrows instinctively furrowed together questioningly. Perhaps I was reading too far into it, but it just seemed like an inappropriate thing to deem excellent, this meeting or the assaults. "So, who would like to go first?" She asked, and I felt myself recoil in my seat.

"What is this?" Martha snapped, "Supposed to be some kind of presentation or something? Should I have put a PowerPoint together for you?"

Mrs. Phillips looked back and forth between the two of us and raised her palms up on either side of her body defensively. "Of course not. I'm not sure what I've said to warrant this hostility. I'm simply asking who would like to speak first."

"You don't understand, do you?" Martha said, her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke. "Neither of us wants to be here."

"I assume both of you want to file reports of sexual misconduct against other students at this school, either that or Mr. Reynolds was mistaken. I've already confirmed your purpose for being here, so now I must ask you these questions. I can't read your mind."

"You don't ask us like that."

Mrs. Phillips sighed and laid her hands atop the papers on her desk. "Alright Martha, how would you like me to ask you about the incident?"

"First, I want you to understand that it's not as simple as a single incident. It doesn't go away once it's over. There's residual pain and damage that will last forever. So while you may be able to go on about your day after this meeting, we can't."

I found my voice and spoke up, "If I seem hesitant it's because your receptionist dismissed me. I came in this morning to see you and she told me to come back hours later. What was so important?"

Mrs. Phillips let out a forceful sigh and impatiently said, "Alright. If you both just want to gripe about my busy schedule, I'll join you. We could go back and forth and waste the entire afternoon complaining. However, if you want to file sexual misconduct reports, we need to get started soon."

"Fine," Martha said. "I'll go first."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Phillips said. "When did this occur?"

"This morning by the fountain."

"Okay," Mrs. Phillips drawled out the last syllable as she wrote on her papers. "And what exactly happened?"

"Well I was trying to walk through a crowd towards the doors when Anthony Brannigan purposely grabbed my breast."

"Were there witnesses?"

"Yeah, his whole group of friends, but after I started yelling at him about it, they all acted like I was crazy. I don't think they'll tell you the truth."

"Was there anyone else with you?"

"No."

"Alright, well, here's what I'm going to do with that. I want to call Anthony in here once you've left and listen to his side of the story. If he denies it and has witnesses to support him, I can't discipline him."

Martha slowly leaned her forehead forward towards Mrs. Phillips and asked, "So you're saying that it's my word against his?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Martha's voice dropped low as she growled, "Let me tell you that no matter what he and his friends say, no one purposely gropes a woman's chest with an open hand like he did. If the school administration doesn't discipline him, my family will get a lawyer involved."

Mrs. Phillips raised a hand to her, "That won't be necessary. Let us conduct our internal investigation first. You don't want to get lawyers involved. It will take much longer and will be much more expensive for everyone. Martha, I promise you this will be this resolved. It is my job as a school administrator to protect my students and I will do so diligently. Do you understand?"

Martha relaxed her rigid hold on her seat and sat back in her chair, "Alright."

There was a pause while Mrs. Phillips shuffled around the papers on her desk. She suddenly looked up at me and asked, "What about you?"

My heart was thumping against my chest and I could feel my pulse in my neck. It's three words, Gabriella. I coached myself; it's just three small words. "He raped me."

"Who?"

I glanced at Martha, "Anthony Brannigan."

Mrs. Phillips abandoned her writing and leaned forward seriously to ask, "He raped you?"

"Yes," I said.

"When?"

"Two Saturdays ago."

"Why didn't you come forward sooner?"

Martha countered on my behalf, "What does that matter? I mean, she's here now, isn't she?"

Mrs. Phillips began writing on her papers again. "Where did this happen?"

"His friend's house. I don't know whose, but I have the address."

"So…this wasn't on school property?"

"No."

"Did you go to the police?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Martha quipped up, "Again, what does that matter? Why are you asking her about the ways that she comes forward? What's the issue with that? That's obviously not the big problem here."

Mrs. Phillips responded, "I'm asking her the questions, Martha. So you didn't go to the police?"

"No."

"Did you go to a hospital?"

"On Monday I went to the emergency room, but we left before they could examine me. I didn't want them to examine me. I was scared. I didn't want anyone to know."

"I see," Mrs. Phillips took a few moments to catch up her writing before addressing us. "I will consult the school's officer about how we should report this to the proper authorities regarding your case, Gabriella. In the meantime, we're going to pull Anthony from class and have him in in-school suspension to keep you separated. I don't want to alert your parents if that would make you uncomfortable or if you haven't already, but they'll eventually need to be notified of this."

"I haven't told my parents yet, but I don't want to be the one to tell them. Could you call them?"

"That'll be something to work out with a counselor."

"I want to do that with Mr. Reynolds, not Mrs. Brannigan."

Mrs. Phillips briefly considered the request, and then quickly agreed, "Of course. Visit the guidance office and set up an appointment to speak to your parents with him today. Do either of you have any more questions or concerns?"

We shook our heads.

"Alright," Mrs. Phillips stood from her desk and approached the door. "You two should be proud of yourselves for coming forward." She opened the door for us and continued, "I can't imagine how difficult this must be."

I exited the room and went through the reception area back into the hall. It was done, but I wasn't convinced it did anything to help me. The memories were just as vivid, the bruises still visible. I remained damaged – broken, and soon everyone else would know about it, too. Everyone would see me as the scared, defenseless girl that I really was. I dropped my head as I felt fresh tears gather in my eyes. Pulling my arms over my chest in an attempt to shrink the space I occupied and my existence altogether, I walked over to a gap in the lockers and hid myself there. I leaned my back against the cool, smooth metal and slid down to the floor.

I balled the ends of my sleeves over my fingers and bit into the bundles of fabric to silence my cries. The tears began dowsing my hot cheeks and jumped off my jaw onto my jeans. I pulled my hands back and let the fabric between my teeth snap back around my wrists. My chest was shaking as I sniffled and wiped the tears off with my soaked sleeves.

No one passing by had thought to look down and between the lockers to find me, until a familiar figure happened to hear one of my sniffles. His beautiful blue eyes peered down at me from beneath furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to speak, then promptly closed it. He stepped into the threshold and pivoted to face me, then lowered himself to sit on the ground across from me.

He rested a hand on his knee and leaned his head to the side while watching me. "Do you want to talk about it?" Troy asked.

My lip quivered and my eyes stung as new tears threatened to form, "No."

"Do you want me here with you?"

"Yes."

He slowly nodded, looking at me.

I spoke again, "This place is so different. I feel like I've lost some of myself moving here…because of someone. I know I can't go back, but I'm so desperate to. I want nothing more in the world than to be back out on that massive lake and be with the bugs and plants, but you'd probably think that's just pathetic, don't you?"

"I don't think that's pathetic at all."

"Are you lying?"

"I'm not lying. I can prove it." He got onto his feet and offered his hand down to me, "I have something to show you."

I studied his outreached hand for a moment before raising mine to it. He pulled me up and led me down the hallway towards the science labs. He stopped in front of a door with a sign on it saying NO UNSUPERVISED ACCESS. He murmured to me, "Keep a look out," before removing a card from his wallet and fiddling with the lock.

I turned around and glanced up and down the hallway, occasionally looking back at the commotion he was making.

"Got it," he quietly declared. He held the door open for me as I cautiously entered the bright area. "C'mon," he led me up the stairs where I noticed an array of plants and greenery surrounding the stairway. He took me around to the backside where a single bench was placed between two massive bushes flaunting their green leaves and yellow flowers. We sat down on the bench and he pointed out in front of him. "Do you see that?"

I leaned against him to see where he was pointing and spotted the silhouette of a magnificent mountain range standing with the clouds. "Whoa!" I stood and walked over to the railing, laying my hands on the hot iron and gazing out at the scene.

Troy joined me and cleared his throat, "We can't give you a massive lake like Minnesota, but New Mexico has its favorable characteristics, too."

"Evidently so."

He gave one quick sigh before saying, "I know you don't want to be here, but you have made Albuquerque better a better place to me by being here, so I figure it's only fair to share my favorite secret getaway with you."

Surprised, I turned to him and said, "Thank you, Troy." I wrapped my arms around him and brought my head down to his chest.

We remained in an embrace for some time before a loud, vibrating buzz erupted around us. "Are you going to be okay, Gabriella?" He asked as his strong arms slowly loosened from around me.

"I think so.".

"Gabriella," Mr. Reynolds stood from his desk and motioned to the armchair across from it, "Please, sit."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the chair. "Mr. Reynolds, I'm technically missing a class right now. Is that a problem?"

"No, I'll write a pass to your teacher and explain that we had an emergency meeting during this period."

"Are you going to mention the assault?"

"No, I won't. You don't need to worry about that," he leaned back in his swiveling chair, and brought his limp fingers up to his chin thoughtfully while his other hand scrolled through his laptop. "Mrs. Phillips sent me an email about this meeting. I was thinking we'd call your parents now to set up a meeting with them after school today."

"Okay," I nervously scratched my fingernails over the leather on the armrest.

"I was thinking that I'd do all the talking, but you'll stay in here to hear everything."

"Oh," I sighed in relief. "Good."

"Could you enter one of your parent's phone numbers into the keypad?"

"Sure," I did as he said.

"Who did you call?"

"My mom, Maria Montez."

Mr. Reynolds nodded his head and we both listened to the ringing until she picked up, saying, "Hello?"

"Hello Mrs. Montez, this is James Reynolds from East High School. I'm a counselor in the guidance office. Is now a good time to speak with you?"

"I…yes," she said nervously, "Now is fine. What is this about? Is Gabriella in trouble?"

"No ma'am, Gabriella is not in trouble. Gabriella would like to speak with you and your husband about an issue. Is there a time today when you and your husband could meet with us?"

"Is Gabriella there?"

I shook my head to Mr. Reynolds.

"No, she's not."

"Okay, well, can you tell me what this about?"

"I'm afraid that's something Gabriella wanted to talk with you two about, so I could not discuss it. Are you available to meet with us after school dismisses at three thirty?"

"I…Yes. We'll be there. Thank you." She hung up.

"Alright," Mr. Reynolds turned off the phone and leaned back in his chair again. "Do you know how you're going to tell them?"

"No."

"Would you like to talk about that? We could come up with a plan together."

"I don't know. I don't really like talking about it. If it were up to me, I would never have to tell them at all."

"Right, I could help you when the time comes if you get stuck."

"Okay," I nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course," Mr. Reynolds smiled. "I understand if you don't want to attend the rest of class. So if you would like to stay in my office and study until they arrive, that's fine with me. I'll just be answering emails."

"Yes, that sounds perfect." I put my headphones in and got to work, but completely forgot to turn my music on. It was around 3:30 when I heard my mother's anxious voice asking the receptionist for Mr. Reynolds and I. I took the ear buds out and let them dangle over my lap as Mr. Reynolds stood to greet her.

"Gabriella," She said as soon as she saw me. "What's going on?"

I told her, "We have to wait for dad."

"I want to know this instant why I'm being called to meet with a school counselor. Now, what is going on?"

"Mrs. Montez," Mr. Reynolds interjected. "Given the sensitivity of the topic, you'll understand why Gabriella would like to tell everyone at once."

My mother struggled to form a coherent sentence with all of her confusion, "I just want to know what's happened! My mind is going to the worst-case scenario."

Just when I thought, that's where your head should be, my father entered the cramped office with Isabella on his hip. "I got here as quick as I could." My parents exchanged concerned glances before my sister called out for me saying, "Gabby!" and reaching her little hands towards me. A small smile found its way onto my face and I stood to greet her. My father eyed me suspiciously as he passed Isabella into my arms.

"What is this about?" My father asked.

"Take a seat," Mr. Reynolds instructed my parents.

They quickly found their way into the two armchairs while I stood to the side of Mr. Reynolds' desk. I looked at the scene in front of me, at the last few moments that my parents were still blissfully unaware of what happened. In the next few minutes, they'd be enlightened and their perception of me would never be the same, I feared.

Isabella started gently patting my collarbones with her small hands and I thought aloud, "She shouldn't be in here."

Mr. Reynolds offered, "We can have the receptionist look after her in the lobby."

"I'd like to watch her," I decided. "I don't want to be in here for this," I explained. "I've dealt with this enough for one day. Could you tell them?"

"I - Yes, I can do that if you're sure."

"Thank you," I gave the scene one final glance before exiting the room with Isabella on my hip.

When the door latched shut behind me, the receptionist looked up from her work and sent me a polite smile. As I approached her desk, I let Isabella gradually slide down me until her feet touched the floor. "Excuse me," I said. "Do you have any crayons or markers we could borrow?"

She pinched her lips together in thought while opening the drawer beneath her desk's surface. "I have highlighters," she offered, holding out a handful of the neon markers.

"That'll work, thank you." I accepted the markers and took Isabella over to a table, and then tore a page out of my notebook from my backpack for her to use. I watched her as she dragged the highlighters around the page, one in her right hand and two in her left. Behind her head was the door to Mr. Reynolds' office. I gazed at it in anticipation, wondering when it would open and exactly where in the meeting they were.

After a few minutes of watching Isabella create her little masterpiece, the door slowly opened. My mother emerged first, quickly finding me with her wet, puffy eyes. She rapidly crossed through the lobby to me, and I stood just as she threw her arms around me. I held onto her as her heavy, erratic breathing tickled at my ear. "I am so sorry, Gabriella." She kissed my forehead before leaning her cheek on it. "I should have paid more attention."

I responded, "It's not your fault, mom."

I then noticed my father pacing the space behind her, his hands anxiously running through his dark, thinning hair. I separated from my mom and walked up to him next. He looked down to me with his lower lip quivering and his eyes watering while he promised me, "We will get justice for what's been done to you, Gabriella." He put his hand on my shoulder while his head drooped from his neck.

I said nothing, but brought my arms around him and held onto him as he began weeping. I wasn't sure that I believed them yet, but I told myself that maybe they would change now that they knew what really happened. Maybe we could start acting like the family we used to be, a family that listens to and supports each other. And maybe, just maybe, Anthony would be brought to justice like my dad said. With Taylor, Troy, and now my family behind me, it finally felt like that was an actual possibility.