by A. K. Evans
Overcome
Copyright 2018 by A.K. Evans
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributer, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover Artist
cover artwork © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
www.okaycreations.com
Formatting
Stacey Blake at Champagne Book Design
www.champagnebookdesign.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
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To the women who have experienced any form of sexual assault.
Because you deserve better.
Because you own your body. Because the length of your skirt and the sway of your hips shouldn’t be considered an invitation. Because you shouldn’t have to be fearful. Because the only thing that should matter is if you said yes.
And because there are so many great men out there.
This book is dedicated to them as well.
The men who shouldn’t be grouped with the bad apples. Men who are strong and powerful for loads of reasons that have nothing to do with having power or control over a woman. Men who will believe you. Men who will stand beside you. Men who will lift you up and encourage you. Not because you need them to, but because it’s what you deserve.
This had to be a mistake.
Everything I had learned told me that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to look different. Sound different.
I had it wrong. If I ever told anyone, they’d tell me I was mistaken. But something was gnawing away at me inside telling me this wasn’t right. It didn’t feel good and it wasn’t what I wanted.
But where was the struggle? The blood? The bruises? The cries for help?
This is supposed to happen in an alley behind a dumpster. I’m supposed to be kicking and screaming and fighting.
But I’m not.
This doesn’t happen in a dorm room. This doesn’t happen in a bed. This doesn’t happen with the guy you like.
But it is.
This must be a misunderstanding.
I wore a short skirt. I went on a few dates with him. I agreed to come back to his dorm room tonight. I cuddled up next to him. I leaned in to kiss him. I even enjoyed kissing him.
And in a matter of minutes, it all changed.
When the soft caresses and tender kisses turned into rough and forceful restraint, the butterflies I felt in my belly disappeared and were replaced by paralyzing fear.
When he rolled me to my back and pinned me to the bed, I froze. I didn’t fight. I didn’t scream. I didn’t try to get away. I only said no and asked him to stop.
The weight of his body hovered over mine.
I said no.
I sank deeper and deeper into the sheets.
But I liked him.
He gripped my wrists above my head.
I said no.
He forced my skirt up around my hips.
Maybe I had been asking for it dressed like this.
He pushed my panties to the side.
I said no.
He smiled through my growing opposition.
But I had flirted with him.
Then he raped me.
And I only said no.
I withdrew. I went somewhere else. Physically, I was still there, but my mind took me to a different place. Finals were coming up next week and I had a paper due in two days. I needed to get back to my dorm so I could finish proofreading that paper. I was always a good student and I focused on that as I lay there silenced and still in the bed of his dorm room.
Suddenly, my mind was back in the room with my body and he was still on top of me.
I wanted to scream. It was there, at the back of my throat, but it wouldn’t come out. The fear seeped into every part of me, but most especially, it silenced my voice. If I screamed, this might end up looking like an actual sexual assault.
It could be violent and bloody.
It could be worse.
My breath was caught in my throat. Perhaps it got stuck there simply to protect me.
But what about what my parents had told me?
Always stand up for yourself.
Before my parents dropped me off at college, my father gave me a lecture. “Don’t go out alone at night. Make sure someone you trust always knows where you are and who you’re with. Stay safe. And if someone ever tries to hurt you, you fight back.”
I didn’t heed his advice. I didn’t fight back.
I didn’t know for sure, but guessed that it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes later when my attacker finished. He rolled off me and fixed his clothes.
Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, I quickly got up off the bed without making eye contact and pulled my skirt back down.
It was over.
I needed to get out, so I moved toward the door.
But his voice stopped me as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob.
“Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you wanted tonight.”
That’s when I knew.
Maybe I didn’t run. Maybe I didn’t fight. But just because I didn’t fight, didn’t mean that I gave my consent.
And just because I liked him doesn’t mean it wasn’t rape.
One hour later
I walked into the twenty-four hour free clinic forty minutes from campus. The chance of seeing someone I knew was less likely here.
As I walked up to the reception desk, the woman behind the counter looked up at me. “Hi, can I help you?”
Did she really want to help me? Could she?
I swallowed down the emotions bubbling to the surface and barely squeaked out, “I…I’d like to be seen by a doctor.”
“Sure. What’s your name?
“Lexi Townsend.”
She offered a friendly smile and asked, “And what brings you in today, Lexi?”
Could I say it?
I wasn’t sure I knew what to call it. Rape seemed like the appropriate word, but I knew him. I liked him. I had been dating him.
“Um, can I…is there a female doctor on staff?”
Understanding washed over her and she moved into action. “Absolutely. Why don’t you follow me back and you can complete the paperwork in the exam room?”
I really didn’t want to follow anyone anywher
e. I wanted to leave. I wanted to climb in my bed and curl up under the covers. I never wanted to step out in public again. But he hadn’t used a condom. Not being seen by a doctor wasn’t an option.
“Do you have anyone you’d like me to call for you?” she asked gently, snapping me out of my thoughts.
My family.
I didn’t tell her that. What would they think? How would they feel? I’d never bring this devastation on them.
I simply shook my head and decided to follow her into the room. It’s not like she could make me feel any worse than I already did.
Once inside the exam room, she handed me a clipboard and said, “Take your time and complete this as best you can. I’m going to get the nurse who will come in and explain what the next steps are. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”
A do-over?
“No,” I responded. “I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.”
She gave me a gentle nod, walked to the door, and ended with, “Candace is the nurse. She’ll be in to see you in just a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” I replied quietly.
Three and a half hours later, I was finally back in my car. I had been poked, prodded, and through a battery of questions, most of which I preferred to not answer. I had no intentions of pressing charges or filing a report, but I was strongly encouraged to have the full SANE exam done in case I changed my mind.
While the nurse was incredibly patient and understanding throughout the process, it was the most humiliating experience of my life. The thought that I’d have to relive this nightmare again by filing a report made me sick to my stomach. And I couldn’t even begin to think about the heartache my family would go through if they knew what happened.
I merely went to the free clinic to make sure I was physically ok. He hadn’t worn a condom and while we’d been on a few dates, I didn’t know him well enough to know his history. Before I left, I was given a referral to a therapist. I had no intentions of ever mentioning this ordeal again, but I took the therapist’s information and slipped it into my purse anyway.
It was just after one in the morning when I got back to my dorm room. I don’t think I was ever more grateful at the fact that my roommate rarely spent any nights in our room. I needed to be alone.
Once I was there, I grabbed the items I needed and hurried to the showers where I found the silver lining…lockable shower stalls.
As the water warmed up, I removed my clothes. Stepping under the spray, I found myself continuing to turn the handle toward the hottest setting. No matter that my skin had turned bright red, the heat from the water surprisingly caused no pain. It did little to penetrate through to everything I felt inside.
Keep it together. Three exams. Three exams, a paper, and you’re out of here. Just keep it together.
So, that’s what I did.
I washed the filth from my body and I kept it together.
Four days later
“You’re finished?”
I had just walked out of my last exam and called my mom.
“I’m finished,” I answered.
“One year down, three more to go,” she replied. She was so proud. “Logan and Luke drove up separately so we’d have more room to bring your stuff home until next semester. They left a few minutes before us, so they’ll get there first. Dad and I are about twenty minutes away.”
“Ok,” I replied. “I’ll see you soon.”
I disconnected the call and walked back to my dorm. I couldn’t wait to see my family. I’d been putting on a brave face for the last few days with the friends I’d made in my first year here, but my heart wasn’t in it. I’m not sure if anyone could tell I wasn’t myself or if they just assumed it was the stress of finals, but I didn’t much care either way. I wasn’t coming back.
Not quite ten minutes later, there was a knock on my door.
I looked out the peephole and was immediately overcome with emotion. My hands were shaking as I struggled to open the door. Once I accomplished that feat, I flung myself into Logan’s arms and broke down.
“Hey,” he comforted, his voice soft as he squeezed me tight. “What’s going on, Lex?” He was truly concerned, but I couldn’t find any words to give him the truth.
“How’d you get into the building?” I sobbed.
“Someone was walking out as we walked up to the door. They let us in,” he answered.
Logan held on to me and shifted me back into the room. Luke stepped in behind him and closed the door. I continued to cry.
“Lexi,” Luke called, the worry just as relevant in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
I took in a few settling breaths and pulled away from Logan. Immediately, I regretted losing the comfort of his embrace. Trying to gather myself, I moved to Luke and hugged him as I lamented, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. Are you alright?” Luke wondered.
After giving myself a few more seconds in the security of his arms, I answered, “I’ve just missed you guys so much. I hate it here.”
This took them by surprise.
“What do you mean? You said you loved it here when you came home over the holiday break,” Logan reminded me.
I needed to backtrack.
Shaking my head, I tried to cover it up. “I just mean that I hate being so far away from home. I miss you guys.”
“It’s only two hours away,” Luke pointed out.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I dropped my gaze to the ground, willing myself to keep it together. Finally, I spoke and told them what I needed.
“I want to change schools,” I started. “I want to be closer to home.”
Neither of my brothers had a chance to respond before we were interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone.
“Mom?” I answered.
“Hey, sweetie. We’re here. Can you let us in?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Give me a minute.”
I ended the call and shared, “Mom and Dad are here. I’ll go let them in.”
By the time I got down to the front door, I managed to compose myself. I greeted my parents with hugs before we walked back up to my room and dove into moving me back home for the summer.
Just over an hour after they all arrived, I left school knowing I’d never step foot on the campus again.
Eight weeks later
I was sitting in my car contemplating if this was the right choice.
I should have suspected I would end up here, but I didn’t. Not necessarily because I thought it was bad, but because I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to relive it.
Not only that, it was going to serve as a bit of a blow to my pride that I even needed it. Wouldn’t this just mean that I wasn’t strong enough to take care of myself?
But something happened and I should have known it would eventually happen.
My mistake was believing I could push my rape and all the emotions it stirred up to the back of my mind where I could bury it without ever having it resurface.
With each day that passed, I kept pushing forward, remaining focused on what I had to do. If I kept myself busy, I wouldn’t have to worry about the thoughts I knew that could take over and completely break me.
I left school about two months ago and talked to my parents about transferring to a school closer to home. My parents lived in Rising Sun, Wyoming, and I settled on a school in the neighboring town of Windsor. They didn’t think twice and immediately helped me make the arrangements. I also decided I didn’t want to live on campus. I told my parents I’d prefer to get an apartment in Windsor that was off-campus, but close enough that I wouldn’t have to travel too far when the weather got bad. They were supportive of my choice, only after I explained that I wanted to have a quiet place to myself without the worry of a roommate. Being the person I was, they never suspected that I wanted to remove myself from any situation that involved constant interaction with people I didn’t know. I’d always been outgoing, so the idea that I’d suddenly want t
o be secluded from others would never cross their minds.
I wanted to finish school.
I did not want to meet new people and make new friends.
People couldn’t be trusted.
Of course, I began wondering if I could trust myself because I was making decisions believing I knew what was best for me.
And while I should have expected it, I was naive. Every night, I struggled to get a decent night’s rest. At first, I had trouble falling asleep. Once I managed to get to sleep, I only got in a couple hours before I was woken by nightmares.
In those nightmares, I relived it.
My arms being pinned over my head. His body over mine. The smell of his cologne. And worst of all, him taking something that didn’t belong to him, something I didn’t want to give.
I needed to find a way to exhaust myself. I was so tired, but I couldn’t sleep.
So, I had purchased a few small dumbbells on my own, but managed to convince my parents to let me take the elliptical from their house when I moved. Up until the point I’d asked them if I could take it, it had served mostly as a decorative piece in their finished basement or a place to hang a blanket. Since nobody was using it, my parents didn’t require much convincing.
I’d been in my new apartment for three weeks now and hadn’t had the elliptical moved yet. And every night since I moved into the apartment I’d experienced nightmares. When I was at my parents’ house, I had them, but not like I was now.
I wasn’t sure if it was because I was alone now, but I knew I couldn’t go home. Being on edge all the time around my parents would be a sure-fire way to bring this hideous situation to light. I refused to do that to them and, instead, asked Logan and Luke if they’d move the elliptical for me.
Three hours ago, that’s what they did. Only, while they were there, something happened.
Logan knocked on my bedroom door and told me they had just finished reassembling the elliptical in the spare bedroom. When I walked into the room, he went into the bathroom on the opposite side of the hall.
I was standing there with Luke talking to him when I felt someone come up behind me. From the time we were kids, my older brothers and I always joked around and spooked one another and our parents, so Logan didn’t know he shouldn’t have done something he’d done so many times before. He put his hands on my sides and made a noise to scare me.
