Heartstrings

by Heather Gunter

  “Yeah, I can tell, because you have this massive grin plastered across your face. Thank you for the talk. You and I will be making a trip tomorrow, the moment you get out of school, before your date. And Tori, I love you.”

  “Love you too mom.”

  I quickly answer the phone before the ringing quits. “Hello?”

  “Hey baby,” Will says.

  “Hey,” I reply sounding rather shy.

  “I was thinking about our date tomorrow. How do you feel about going to the diner and then to the lake for a little night swimming? I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it first before we do it.”

  “Yeah, that sounds fine but I have to go somewhere with my mom as soon as I get home from school.” I don’t know what his reaction is going to be so I nervously take a deep breath and say, “I’m going with my mom to fill out a police report.”

  There’s silence at first, but then Will whooshes out a breath and says, “I’m so glad that you’re doing this.”

  I feel utter relief, “My mom talked to me about tonight and I’m ready to do this. I can’t guarantee what kind of mood I’ll be in afterwards but I can’t put it off any longer, regardless of the outcome.”

  “No, I agree with your mom. It’s important and you never know what information could help.” He’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Would you be okay with rescheduling our date for Saturday instead?” He quickly continues, “This isn’t going to be any easy thing to do and I just think going out right afterwards probably isn’t the best idea.”

  I’m sad to postpone but he’s right, I need to do this and I’d be lying if I said that I wouldn’t be affected by it. “Yeah, that’d be okay. You’re probably right.”

  “How about this, if you feel up to it afterwards and you need me, call me and I’ll be there if your mom’s cool with it. Call me anyway, but if you want me there, I’ll be there.”

  I love how thoughtful he is, but I don’t know if I want him to see me like that again; crying and out of control. “I’ll call you afterwards and let you know. Deal?”

  “Sure,” he replies softly.

  We talk for several minutes about mundane things before we hang up and he tells me, “Tori, I really am so proud of you.”

  My heart swells at this and it makes me love him all the more. “Thank you.”

  We get off the phone and I crawl into the covers with my thoughts solely on Will and my pit stop at the police station. I’m not nervous yet but I know I will be.

  I fall asleep with thoughts of Will and only Will and his penetrating green eyes that see me for me.

  Chapter 28

  I get off the phone with Tori and know I have a huge goofy ass smile slapped across my face. God, I love hearing her voice on the phone. That husky voice of hers sets me on fire and I still can’t believe that she’s all mine. Every part of her is completely perfect in my eyes.

  I’m so damned proud of her for taking the step to go to the police. I know this is such a difficult and hard thing for her, but the fact that she’s doing it speaks volumes of her.

  My mind trails off and I think about what I’ve been up to. I don’t like hiding things from Tori but I don’t want her to worry. In a way I feel like I’m not being completely honest with her. I sigh, I know I’m not. Between having to tell her that I’d seen her in that damn truck and left, and that Maverick and I were doing our own detective work, I’m really not batting a thousand. Maverick and I have been taking steps to figuring out who that dick head was at that party over a year ago. We’d cornered Ty this week at school who said he couldn’t remember. “It had been too long ago, he’d said.” I had walked off in a pissy mood, feeling like this was going to be an impossible task. Of course Ty had wanted to know why. I’d left after that question.

  Maverick told Ty thanks and followed me, telling me not to worry, that we’d find the guy. I know if the roles were reversed I’d be the level headed one. He suggested we check with some of the other guys from the party. The thought calmed me a bit and I got mad at myself for getting upset so easily. I have to remember that there are others to ask. Someone had to know who he was. Someone had invited that sack of shit, he hadn’t just shown up on his own.

  I try to shake the fucker out of my head and focus on Tori. I’ve never felt for anybody like I do for Tori and aim to make sure that she has the best time Saturday. I want it to be perfect. I need to give her the perfect date, but I want it to be natural, not like I’m trying too hard. I need her to feel like we are a normal couple, something we would do at any point and time in our relationship.

  I close my eyes feeling scared of the prospect of losing her after I tell her what I’d seen that night and how she’s going to react. So I need the perfect date for her to remember when she’s pissed as hell at me. How could she not be? I rub my hand across my face, as if I can scrub the worry away. I can’t tell her Saturday night after our date. Nope, it’s going to have to wait a little while longer. Saturday is about us. I’ll worry about it after tomorrow night. Things will change and it’s terrifying as hell.

  Chapter 29

  I sit here on my bed, guitar in hand, strumming away to a song. I’m waiting for my mom to get home from work and trying, unsuccessfully, to calm my nerves. I can’t believe I left this guitar alone for so long. I’ve missed it so much and I’m just now realizing it felt like a piece of my soul was missing until I picked it up again and played. I feel complete. I’m deep in concentration letting my fingers glide along the strings and quietly singing to it.

  “I’m scared to death, that there may not be another one like this and I confess that I’m only holding on by a thin thin thread. I’m kicking the curb cause you never heard the word that you needed so bad.”

  “I love the country flair you’ve given it Tori. I love Adam Levine.”

  I jump out of my skin and fall off the bed, yet manage to hold on to my guitar the whole way down. I look up, scowling and see my mom standing there with an amused look on her face.

  “Sorry honey, I really didn’t mean to scare you.” Of course, she says this while she’s still chuckling.

  “Sure mom.”

  I plop back on the bed, placing my guitar in my lap and continue playing.

  “Are you about ready to do this? I’m sorry you had to push your date with Will to tomorrow.” She walks over and sits next to me.

  “No, it’s okay. Not to mention he agreed with you anyway, so it’s cool.” I stop playing and look up at her. “Mom, I’m scared. I really am. I’m concerned about what they will say to me. What I should, or shouldn’t, have done.”

  “We’ve been through this though, Tori. They won’t criticize you; they just need a statement. They aren’t there to judge you. The guy I talked to, Detective Harrison, was very nice when we spoke. He sounded genuinely concerned about you coming in, and glad that you weren’t letting it go.”

  I know it’s the right thing to do, I’m not discounting that. My nerves are on edge because I’ll be reliving the most intimate details of my worst nightmare to a man I do not know.

  Drawing on the strength I’m slowly getting back, I resolve to myself it’s now, or, maybe never. “Okay, let’s go, let’s do it. I need to do this now.” I place my guitar back in its case and grab my purse. I turn to my mom, “Lead the way.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I follow closely behind all the way to the car. My hands begin to shake and my mind wanders. There’s no doubt in my mind I’m doing the right thing. I climb in the passenger seat and turn the radio on. I sing along to every song that comes on, attempting to clear my mind; attempting being the operative word.

  My mom turns to me, “You’ll be fine.”

  “Oh we’re here already? Shit that was fast,” I say under my breath.

  Taking a deep breath, okay several deep breaths, I open the car door and meet my mom at the back of the car. She gives me an encouraging smile as I follow her inside. We walk to the counter and it’s just like the ones yo
u see in the television shows: A counter in the middle of the station with a detective standing behind it. He looks up, ignoring me, and looks directly at my mom, “Can I help you?”

  Oblivious to the interested looks the policeman is giving her, Mom throws him one of her magnetic smiles and says, “Yes, we have an appointment with Detective Harrison.”

  Without realizing it I’m clenching my hand into a fist then unclenching. I repeat the motion over, and over, and over. We are led into another office and the door is shut with enough force to make me jump. My mom places her hand on my leg and soothes, “It’s okay Tori, breathe, I’m here.”

  I nod my head and try desperately to slow my breathing. Clench fist, unclench fist—over and over. I finally glance at my hands and see they’re turning beet red from the repetitive action. I open them once more and wipe them down my shirt.

  Suddenly, the door swings open and a man, presumably the detective, walks in. He’s about my mom’s age and all business. He introduces himself, but when I open my mouth to introduce myself in return I only squeak. I clear my throat and try again. Second time’s a charm.

  Detective Harrison begins, “When your mom and I spoke on the phone, she indicated you were raped a little over a year ago.”

  I nod my head in confirmation.

  “I’m going to need to know everything that transpired from the beginning to the very end.”

  I look away: Away from the detective and away from my mom. This is so, so hard. I stare at a blank ugly wall with nothing to keep my attention, but it’s easier to stare than to think about what I need to do, so much easier.

  “Tori,” Detective Harrison says, “I know this is hard for you. It’s really important that we get an accurate account of that day and the proceedings leading to your rape. I will be as gentle as I can, but I’m going to need details.”

  Again I nod. Words are so difficult to form.

  Come on Tori you’ve got this. One time, that’s all. Just do it and get it over with.

  Trying so desperately to hold myself together, I clear my throat and begin the hardest conversation I will ever have with a stranger.

  I turn and face him because this must be done face to face. He can’t just see the side of my face. I need him to see and feel my pain. He won’t know the horrors that were done to me from the side of my face. I begin at the beginning. I explain about my date and the drink I had for ‘liquid courage’. I explain the party and how Will and I were separated, with me heading outside for fresh air. I tell him about being approached and saying no. How I was dragged away by the arm, and how it felt like my arm was being yanked out of the socket. I pause for a moment and feel my hands start to itch and burn. I rub them together trying to ease the pain. Nothing helps, nothing ever does. I return my eyes to him, steel myself and continue. “I was dragged and shoved into a pickup truck. I don’t know the color, or make, or model. I know the windows were not automatic.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because, detective, he held my hands.” Unconsciously, I lift them to demonstrate the hold and continue, “He held them above my head and pressed them into the handle toward the window.” Tears leak from my eyes, and I begin to rub my hands together again.

  “He laughed while I struggled. I cried and said no so many times I lost count. He slapped me when I called for help, when I heard Will. I tried desperately to be heard and to be saved, but it didn’t happen for me. I wasn’t lucky.” The tears fall, but I don’t stop to wipe them dry; I let them fall.

  Detective Harrison watches and listens, interrupting only a couple of times to clarify the details as he writes in his notebook. He hands me a tissue, but I just crumple it in my hands, never using it. I explain his term ‘biting kisses’ and I continue to the very end. I don’t stop until I get it all out—every last gory detail. Even when he leaned over and opened the truck door, letting me know he was finally done with me, and I was dismissed. There is a flash of anger on the detective’s face that I see before he can hide it. I see the anger, but more importantly, I feel it. It emanates from him in waves.

  He asks if he can bring in a sketch artist. I hesitate, but only for a moment before I agree. I fidget with my hands, constantly looking at my surroundings. Detective Harrison tells me I did really well, and my mom smiles at me when she catches my eye. She looks proud of me. I look away quickly because I begin to feel shame. Not from the act itself but because I waited so long to do this, to report it instead of dealing with it.

  Have you ever had an out of body experience? You’re experiencing something, but at the same time you feel apart from it all; watching from above? That is how I feel right now. I see the hustle and bustle of everything around me. I see so many different kinds of people coming and going through the office window. I know my role and the importance of doing this regardless of my feelings. Has my rapist done this to others? Chances are high he has and it makes me sick to my stomach. The nausea gets so bad I stand abruptly and ask where the restroom is. Barely hearing directions I run as fast as I possibly can, afraid that I may lose the contents of my stomach before I make it. Fortunately, it’s not far and I make it in time. I charge in, stumble to a stall and let go. I become aware of a hand gently holding my hair back away from my face, soothing words break though the buzzing in my ears, whispering it’s okay, I’m not alone. Slowly I comprehend it’s my mom soothing me, just as she’s done my whole life. Crying, I continue to spill my insides into the toilet. I am horrified and ill because the sick bastard may have done to others what he did to me. Finally empty, I sit up as mom backs out of the stall, giving me room to stagger to the sink. I splash my face, and gargle water, spitting the rancid taste into the sink. Then I stand up and see my flushed face.

  I turn away, searching for my mom. “I’m sorry,” I sob. “I didn’t mean to lose it. I know that I can do this.”

  “Oh honey, don’t apologize, you’re doing great!” Quickly closing the distance, she wraps her arms around me—cocooning me in her warm, safe embrace.

  My breathing finally under control, I weakly manage, “I guess I’d better get back in there for the sketch artist.”

  “I know you’re scared Tori and you’re allowed to be. Please don’t discount your feelings in all of this and make yourself feel guilty all over again. Please?”

  Answering her pleading tone I say, “I know. But mom, I keep wondering if I could have saved someone this horror if only I had done this sooner. Could I have kept it from happening to someone else? I hate the thought I may have had the power to stop him. That it could be my fault if he… if he raped someone else!” I choke out with a sob.

  “Tori, the system isn’t perfect. Maybe you could have, maybe not, but you can’t “what if” yourself sick. You have to live in the present, and continue dealing with it head on. I couldn’t be more proud of you. What you did tonight is huge. You are so brave, and I know your bravery today will help someone in the future.” She guides me out of the restroom and back to the detective, who is waiting with another man holding a large sketchpad.

  “Are you okay, Tori?” Detective Harrison asks with genuine concern.

  “Better, thank you. I’m ready to get started.”

  I recall every inch of my assailant’s features that I possibly can. I get as detailed as possible, trying hard to remember every piece of him from that night. When we are finished the detective reassures me, “Great job, Tori, I think we have something decent here.”

  The sketch artist turns it around for me to see. Instantly shrinking away, my voice wobbles as I quietly confirm, “That’s him.” He has cruel eyes I will never forget, and a mouth in a constant sneer. It terrifies me.

  “What happens now?” I’m curious about what I’ve accomplished tonight and how it’s going to help going forward.

  “Well, in the future, any other rape victims that come forward with descriptions of their assailant will be compared against the sketch of your attacker. Obviously, we can’t do anything without physical
evidence, but it’s a good start. You also provided a very important tip this evening when you shared the term ‘biting kisses’ used during your attack.” Wincing, he continues, “Likely, this is a term he uses with all his victims. It’s a very specific phrase we can use to link the rapist to other victims. You’ve helped a lot tonight, whether you know it or not. You’ve done good kid.” This time, when I meet his eyes, I receive a look of pride.

  “Thanks.” I say, then glance to my mom, “Take me home?”

  She thanks Detective Harrison as she wraps her arms around me and guides me out of the station.

  I left the police station knowing I did one of the hardest but also bravest things that I could have done. Do I wish I had done things differently a year ago? That’s an easy answer, of course I do, but what’s done is done, right? Maybe, just maybe, I’ve helped in some small way.

  Chapter 30

  Maverick and I trudge along going from friend to friend’s house trying unsuccessfully to make a connection to this guy. I’m frustrated and pissed off. “Dammit!” I holler slamming my hand on the steering wheel of my truck.

  Maverick sighs, “Dude, I know, I get it. We will find this piece of shit, I swear we will. Do you want to call Tori and see how it went tonight?”

  I do more than anything, but I’m concerned about overwhelming her and what if she’s not finished? I’m also worried about what ‘place’ she’ll be in, but my need to speak to her and know she’s okay, surpasses all other thoughts. “Yeah, I do,” I say feeling broken that I’ve done nothing to help her.

  Before I can dial the phone, Maverick says, “You know you’ve already helped her a lot, right? You’ve done everything right to help her. You’ve stood by her, and while you know I would have done the same thing in your place, some guys wouldn’t.”

  “What are you? A fucking mind reader?” I know I’m being a smart ass but I can’t resist the jab.