by J. L. Beck
“Maybe we should get a lawyer before we talk to them.”
“Dad, I didn’t take the pictures,” I growl. I’m seriously getting tired of having to tell people that. I might have been fucking stupid enough to share that recording with the guys, but if I had photos of Jules, I wouldn’t be sharing them with the entire campus.
Those would be mine, all fucking mine.
“You heard what the lawyer you talked to said. There is nothing they can charge me with. The recording was fucked up but not illegal and I didn’t take those fucking pictures. I’ve denied it a million times and I’ll continue to deny it, because it wasn’t me.”
He sighs and lets go of my arm. I’m sure he thinks I’m being stubborn, but I won’t tell these assholes something just because they want to hear me say it. I get out of the car with my father following behind me.
“I’m going back to my place,” Seb announces. “Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come and get you. I don’t have the patience to sit through another session of questioning.”
We walk inside, all eyes snap up and land on me, like I’m some deranged criminal or something. It’s a small police department and it seems like everybody knows why I’m here. Detective Garcia comes around the corner and greets me in his usual emotionless way.
“Mr. Miller, would you please follow me.” He motions to the back and I start walking, my dad hot on my heels. “I’m sorry, sir, you will not be able to come with us into questioning today.”
“And why is that? Is my son under arrest?” My father’s voice bounces off the walls, filling the small space.
“Not at this moment, but I do, however, have a warrant to collect a DNA sample, which I will be doing.”
“DNA sample? For what? He didn’t fucking rape her.” My father expels anger coating his words.
“We have someone that’s come forward stating this isn’t the first time you’ve done something of this nature. The second girl has come out and said you sexually assaulted her. She went to a hospital for a rape kit which came back positive.”
My pulse quickens, my stomach twisting into a tight knot. I’m being set up...there is no other way to explain why this is all being put on me. I’ve never had sex with a woman more than once, and I never take from someone who isn’t willing. Never. I might have hurt Jules, but there is a fine fucking line between raping someone who doesn’t want you and recording something without their knowledge.
“What?” I growl. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you even accuse me of something so disgusting? I would never do that.”
The detective stares me straight in the eyes as he speaks, “Because the girl specifically named you. Miss Layla Hart, does her name happen to ring any bells, Mr. Miller?”
My lip curls, my veins fill with ice. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
For the next few hours, I’m questioned by the same two detectives that questioned me the first time. Someone comes in and swabs the inside of my cheek for DNA halfway through. I don’t know how many times they ask me the same questions over and over again. They want to break me down, get me to confess but there isn’t shit to confess to.
After a while, I just try to drown them out. I think about my father's face when they accused me of rape. I know he didn’t want to believe it, but when I looked into his eyes, I could see the doubt plaguing him. I want to be mad at him for not believing in me, but how can he after all of the things I’ve done. After the ways I’ve disappointed him. All evidence is pointing toward me so I can’t really blame him for doubting me. If I didn’t know for a fact that I wasn’t that kind of man, I would doubt myself.
I refused a lawyer hours ago. I didn’t see the point. They can’t make me confess to something I didn’t do and there is no evidence that I did anything, because it didn’t happen.
“Okay, Mr. Miller, that’s all the questions we have, for now. You’ll be hearing from us soon though,” the detective says, clearly unhappy about the outcome.
I don’t care about his fucking feelings. I’m out of the room and down the hall before they can change their minds and lock me up in one of these cells. When I get to the little waiting area in the front of the station, I realize that my dad is no longer here.
I walk out of the station, hoping he might be outside, but after looking everywhere possible, I don’t see him. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me that he left, still, it stings. People have a tendency of leaving me and this is just another reminder of that. Anytime you need someone they aren’t there, or at least that’s how it is with my family.
I take out my phone to dial my dad's number, but I can’t make myself push the call button. I decide to run back to campus, it doesn’t really matter since I’m still in my workout clothes anyway. It’s only about five miles give or take, so I should be there in less than an hour. I start jogging, but it quickly turns into a full-blown run, and I pick up speed with every stride. My lungs burn, but it’s a good burn, one that makes me feel like I can finally breathe. At least I can still control my body, because fuck if I don’t have control over anything else right now, most of all my emotions, my life. And as I run, running like I’m trying to outrun all the misfortunes that are taking place in my life right now, I ask myself how we got to this point…
How did my life get so fucked up?
22
Jules
As soon as Sebastian enters my room, I know something is up.
He has a nervous look on his face, a look that’s borderline terrified. Without even knowing it, I can tell he’s about to tell me something that I’m really not going to like.
“Jules, someone is here to talk to you.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. My chest starts to heave with uneven breaths. I can feel the panic creeping in.
“No, no, I don't want to talk to anyone.”
“I know…but I’m afraid there is no way around this. I’m sorry, Jules, but it’s the police and they really want to talk to you. I think it would be good for you.”
“What would be good for me is if everyone left me alone,” I grit out, feeling a pang of anger for the first time in weeks.
“They are in the living room waiting for you. Do you want to go out there or do you want me to let them come in here?”
I find myself shaking my head. There is no way I want them in here, this has been my safe space for weeks, and I’m not letting them invade it. Pushing myself off the bed. Sebastian sighs loudly, running a hand through his hair and I know he is relieved.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me, okay? Unless you want me to come out there with you.”
“No, I’ll do this alone,” I tell him, there is no need to involve him any further in this mess. I walk out into the living room and find a man and a woman sitting on the couch, both smile at me the moment they see me.
“Miss Peterson, it is very nice to meet you,” the woman greets me. Her voice is soft and comforting, much like how a favorite blanket might feel, and I know without a doubt she’s a shrink. I’ve seen shrinks before, my dad made me go and see one when I had a hard time coping with the move.
“I’m Susan, would it be alright if I call you Jules?”
I nod slightly and take a seat on the recliner. Pieces of me want to run back to the bedroom and hide in the bed, while other pieces of me know it’s time to talk, even if it’s just a little.
“Jules, this is the detective who is leading the investigation we are here for today. He will only be here listening and taking notes. I will be the one asking you questions, is that okay with you?” I nod again and she continues. “I know this is going to be hard for you to talk about, but it is very vital that we get some information from you.”
I suck in a shallow breath, but the air doesn’t even fill my lungs.
“Okay, just ask so this can be over with quick,” I tell her and even though I know I sound rude, she only smiles at me, not paying any attention to my harsh tone. Susan looks to the detective for a moment and then clears
her throat.
“Jules, did Remington Miller sexually assault you?”
My heart aches hearing his name, the scabbed wound over my heart now pulsing with fresh blood. It hurts so badly that it takes me a second to realize what she just asked me.
“No, he didn’t,” I divulge and watch as the detective scribbles something down on his notepad. I want to ask him what he’s writing down, and why but don’t. I don’t want to subject myself to anything more than I have to.
“The recording that was sent to students at your school, do you know when and where that was taken?” I try to keep my walls up and not let any emotion in, but this is getting harder and harder by the second with them asking questions that all but force me to remember the man that broke my heart in two.
“It was taken in my room, a few days after I started school here, maybe the fourth of April.”
“Are you certain? We have reason to believe that it was taken at a party you attended a few days after that.”
I shift in my seat suddenly having the urge to get up and run away. Why would they ask about the party? Aside from trying to forget him, I’ve tried my best to forget that night.
“Jules, are you aware that pictures were sent to the school shortly after the recording was sent out?”
I give her a confused look, not understanding what she is saying. “Pictures? What kind of pictures?”
“Pictures of you. Pictures that appear to have been taken at that party you and Remington attended.” A sudden feeling of impending doom drenches over me like acid falling from the sky.
“What kind of pictures,” I repeat.
“You weren't fully dressed in these pictures and it looked like you were passed out. It looks as though the pictures were taken without your consent.”
“I want to see them,” I demand, every muscle in my abdomen clenches and as if she was expecting me to ask to see them, she pulls a black folder out sitting beside her. She hands it to me, and my heart starts to race inside my chest, the sound filling my ears. Something feels like it’s wrapping around my throat, making it hard to breathe, to swallow.
I open the folder and… the world falls away. What I find is exactly what she stated, but a part of me hoped maybe she was lying. As I stare down at the photos, I see that it’s me, half naked in a bed, it’s from the night Cole drugged me. The memories come rushing back to me and it’s hard to think about anything else. I close the folder and throw it on the table, my hands sinking into my hair. Why won’t the memories go away?
Him. The man who broke my heart, he sent the memories away, but without him, I am subjected to their memory, but with him, I am subjected to the memory of his heartache.
“Do you know who took these photos of you, Jules?”
“Yes,” I grit out, but don't elaborate further. “I don't want to talk about that night. Are we done?”
“Jules, we know this is hard for you, but there is another girl that has come forward.” She pauses briefly, her eyes moving between the detective and me. “You are not alone anymore, and your statement may just help other girls in the future.”
“Other girls?”
“Yes, someone has come forward, and accused Remington of raping her.”
Her accusation sends me reeling.
A rush of anger breaks through my barriers like a wave crashing against a cliff’s edge.
“You’re wrong. Remington would never do that. You’re wrongfully accusing him.” He disappointed and betrayed me in so many ways, but I know…I know in my heart that he wouldn't do something like that.
Both Susan and the detective look at me with puzzled looks. “Jules, I heard the tape and I’ve seen the pictures…”
“Remington didn't take those and what exactly do you think happened on that tape?” I try to think back to that night, another memory I have to dig out of my brain because I tried to bury every single memory, thought, and feeling when it comes to him. I know he said some crude things to me that night, but would it have sounded like he was raping me?
“It’s not really clear what happened from just the sound. Was the sex in it consensual? Don’t feel like you need to protect him, Jules.”
My nostrils flare, and I clench my fists. Why are they trying to get me to admit to something that never happened?
“There was no sex. He just…” I pause, not wanting to say it what really happened, but then I realize they’ve already heard the tape and the only way to clear this up is tell them the truth. “We didn’t have sex, he…he just made me come…with his finger and then he left.” My cheeks heat at my confession.
Susan nods without judgment, encouraging me to keep talking. “But what about that party? People saw you leave with Remington that night.”
I jump up from my seat, unable to stay in a sitting position any longer.
“I don't want to talk about that night, okay?” I yell, unable to control the volume of my voice.
Susan gets up as well and takes a step toward me. Showing me her hands, palms up like she is trying to calm a wild animal. “
“Jules, you can tell us what happened. I know it’s hard, trust me I know, but this information might be crucial to the investigation into Remington. Whatever he did to you, he could’ve done to this other woman. Don’t you want to help us?”
Help them? Help them hurt him? I know the answer without even thinking.
“He didn't do anything to hurt me, he saved me that night. I was being such an idiot, I had a bad feeling, but I pushed it away.”
After I say the first few words, the rest follow with ease, the word vomit just keeps coming, and I don’t even care to stop it.
“I didn't know there was anything in the drink. I didn't taste anything, and suddenly I felt so weird. Hot and cold all at once. I didn’t want to go with him, but he brought me to the bedroom, and then he started to take my clothes off. I asked him to stop, but he didn’t…I begged him to stop and when that didn’t work, I tried to push him off, but he was too strong.” My voice cracks at the end, my broken soul shattering a little bit more and I don't even realize I’m crying until Susan hands me a tissue.
I swipe at my eyes and continue. “Remington came into the room and pulled Cole off of me, then he punched him.” I don't think I should tell the cops that I thought he was going to kill him, so I leave that part out. The last thing Remington clearly needs right now is to find himself with an assault charge.
“Then he helped me get dressed and got me out of there. That’s all that happened that night.”
“Who is Cole?” Susan asks, and I cringe just hearing his vile name. I don’t think I can talk or think about him for another second, but then I remember what Susan said in the beginning. This might help other girls in the future. If I don't speak up now, then Cole will walk away a free man, giving him the chance to do this to another woman and that in itself is enough to keep me talking.
“Cole was Remington’s roommate. He had this strange obsession with me. He’s the one who drugged me and tried to…” I can’t even say the word out loud, because then it feels like it’s real, like it happened, and though I know it almost did, it’s easier to swallow if I don’t say it.
“Then a few days after that, he cornered me. We shared a class together, he didn’t show up, so I thought I was safe, but after class, he got me alone and tried to force me to tell Remington that I wanted it. He made an idle threat about how I would pay if I didn’t. I was scared, but I wasn’t going to tell Remington because it was a lie, I didn’t want it.” Tears stain my cheeks.
“I didn’t want him,” I whisper more to myself than anyone else in the room.
“I know, Jules, I know you didn’t.” Susan comes up beside me, reaching out for me. She places her hand on my upper arm, her touch is gentle and comforting as she rubs her thumb over my skin. It reminds me of how my mother comforted me as a child, how Remington comforted me the night that all of this happened, and I miss that comfort...I miss him.
“It was never Remingto
n. It was Cole. Remington saved me, and I only didn't say anything until now because I just wanted to forget.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, this is completely normal,” Susan assures me and somehow that makes me feel better.
I don’t know why but I was sure people would judge me for what happened but now looking at her, seeing that there is no judgment at all in her gaze, and only understanding, I know I was wrong.
A throat clears behind us making me turn to face the noise, it’s then that I notice the detective is now standing, and that Seb has entered the room.
“We have all the information we need now. I just have one question, Miss Peterson.” The detective’s gaze softens as soon as he sees my face.
“Yes?” I croak, blinking through the tears.
“When was the last time you’ve seen or heard from Cole?”
“That day he cornered me after class. I can look at my call schedule and tell you the exact date, but I can’t remember it off the top of my head.”
“That would be great, Miss Peterson. Just email me the information as soon as you can and thank you again. I’m sorry to have had to put you through this again.” He gives me a sympathetic smile and hands me a card. I take it, holding it in my clammy hand.
“While we are handing out cards, here is mine.” Susan hands me a card as well. “If you need to talk again, or simply vent, that’s my office number on the top and my cell on the bottom. You can call me any time, day or night.”
If you would have asked me two hours ago if I would ever call her, my answer would have been hell no, but now that I’ve actually talked to her, I do consider it. I will definitely keep her card close to me.
“Thank you,” I tell both of them and watch as Seb sees them out. As soon as I hear the front door close, I sag onto the couch. Talking about that night lifted a weight off my chest, but it also made me confirm that it happened and that was almost more terrifying than remembering it.
Sebastian walks back into the room, a sad look on his face. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I did hear a bunch of the stuff you said, mostly because you were yelling, which I’m glad you did. You have no fucking idea how glad I am to see you be angry and yelling.”
