Becoming Indigo

by Tara Taylor

  A pang of pain thwacked my chest. “Cool,” I said.

  I finally made eye contact. He stared at me. Deeply. Almost through me. Lacey coughed and turned her head slightly. His gaze reached far inside me, to the core of my heart, my soul. I couldn’t look away, although I desperately wanted to. He slowly reached his hand over, stroked my hair, and murmured, “You still haven’t lost your innocence.”

  And … just like that, I let my face fall into his hand, and I stilled beneath his touch, as if a comfort passed over me. We stood there for a few seconds before … he just walked away.

  I exhaled and put my hand to my chest. My heart was beating uncontrollably.

  “Why would he say that and just leave?” Lacey snarled.

  My heart thudded. He had just walked away. And he hadn’t acknowledged that we’d even talked last month. Why did I care about him when he cared so little about me?

  Lacey put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t give that asshole another thought.”

  “I’ve been hanging out with this guy,” I blurted out, my words just tumbling out of my mouth. “Paul. He’s really nice. He might come later tonight.” I looked at my watch. It was already after 11. Paul had said he would be at the party by 11:30.

  “I’m happy for you, Indie,” said Lacey. “I really am. You deserve the best.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go stand by the bonfire. I could eat a hot dog.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’m starving.” I wasn’t, really, because my stomach felt a little sick, but it wouldn’t hurt to cook one. It would give me something to do.

  We headed over to the fire, and within minutes, we were circled by old high-school friends, acquaintances, and strangers. The conversation turned to summer plans, fall plans, music, and trivial stuff. Stars winked above, and the tepid night air circled me, giving me that lazy summer fun feeling that made life seem as if it stood still. The bonfire shot sparks into the sky, lighting it up, crackling the air—I loved the look and sounds of a fire, because every second was different. The crackles were like music, only without a steady beat, more random. It was all like magic to me. I put my plastic bag, with my soda bottle in it, on the ground and pulled out the hot dogs. Lacey and I giggled as we each found a stick and put our wieners on the fire to roast.

  I pulled mine out of the fire when it was black and almost charred. Just how I liked it. I shoved it in a bun and dabbed ketchup on it.

  As I munched on my hot dog, I laughed with Lacey and listened to the chatter around me. Everyone had a plan. Inside I smiled. That included even me, although I didn’t talk about my plans to learn as much as I could from Annabelle so I could help people. Not yet. It was too early. Most people probably wouldn’t understand.

  The entire time I was talking and trying to keep up with the conversation and the laughter, I had the nagging feeling that I had felt at the house, that I had forgotten something. I had just finished my hot dog when it hit me. I hadn’t protected myself like Annabelle had ordered me to do. Shit! That was important.

  I wondered if I could still protect myself here. Find somewhere quiet. I wasn’t drinking, so it might be okay. I had just started to walk away from the bonfire, trying to find a safe spot where I might be able to have a few seconds to myself, when I bumped into this guy from high school.

  “Hey, Indie,” he said. His glassy eyes had huge pupils. He was known to deal drugs, which was one of the reasons I probably didn’t know him that well. I tried to steer away from the drug crowd. “How the hell are you?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  “I see you’re still as good-looking as ever. I bet you don’t remember my name.”

  I actually didn’t, and I had no idea what to say, so I started up some small conversation about high school and how I was lousy with memorizing anything. As we were talking, I felt weird. Like, really spacey and as if I was taking in something dark about this guy. I didn’t want to be around him.

  I excused myself and went right back to the fire and the crowd.

  By now, the music was blaring and the crowd had multiplied, and for that I was glad, because I could hide and forget about the guy and his weird vibes. I scanned the crowd for Paul but didn’t see him. I really wanted him there by my side. For a few minutes, I walked around the party looking for him, hoping to find him just arriving, coming through the bushes. I even asked a few people, but no one had seen him. Deep down, I knew he would look for me as soon as he arrived.

  Finally, I went back to the fire and looked for my drink. I had written my name on it with a black marker. When I couldn’t find it, I just assumed someone must have thrown it out. I took once last glance and that’s when I saw it, but not in the place where I had left it. Lacey must have moved it. I filled my plastic cup with the soda and, as I sipped, I observed the actions of the party. Was I the only sober one?

  I had slurped down half my drink before I started to feel kind of funny. I felt a hand on my arm.

  “Indie,” a voice whispered, “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  It was the guy I had run into earlier. What could he need to talk to me about? “It’s about John,” he said.

  “What about John?” I think my words came out slurred. What was wrong with me?

  “It’s important, okay? Just walk a few steps with me, and I’ll tell you.”

  With his hand on my elbow, he guided me toward the bushes and a place that was quieter and less populated. I began stumbling as I walked, tripping over stones. My knees were weak, and my limbs seemed floppy and loose, like they were made of rubber. Something was wrong. I went to speak, but he clamped his hand on my mouth.

  “She’s gonna puke,” he said to the few people we walked by. “I’m holding it in her until we get to the bushes.”

  I heard the laughter. I tried to jerk away, but he had my arm in a viselike grip. Anyway, I didn’t have any strength in my body. My vision was blurry, and I just wanted to lie down and sleep.

  With every step, we walked farther from the light and more into the dark. The light from the bonfire became part of the distance. And the noises from the party faded away. Everything I saw was double. I wanted to scream, but nothing would come out.

  He kept leading me into the bushes. Farther and farther. My feet got heavier and heavier. Branches scratched my ankles and feet and arms. I tripped and fell a few times. He held me up by my armpits. My head swam, and I was so dizzy I wanted to curl up into a ball.

  Fight, Indie, fight.

  I tried to thrash, but I just felt as if I was falling down a big tunnel. My legs gave out, and I slid to the ground.

  And that’s when everything went black.

  “Indie!” I felt someone shaking me. The person screamed loudly, a shrill, haunting scream.

  “Someone, help! Please, someone has to help us!”

  I opened my eyes and saw Lacey; her pupils were huge, and the whites of her eyes shone in the dark. She looked panic-stricken. My throat was scratchy, my body ached, and something was really wrong. I reached down—my pants were by my knees, and Lacey was struggling to pull them up.

  “What’s happening?” I managed to croak out the words.

  “We have to get you to the hospital.” Lacey pushed hair off my face. “Indie, I’m so glad you’re awake. I really am.” Lacey started crying. “We’ve been so worried!”

  The bushes rustled, and footsteps stomped through them, running. “What the hell happened?” Paul’s voice.

  Lacey quickly pulled on my jeans again. “I found her like this. We have to get her to the hospital.”

  “I’ve got my car.” Paul rushed over to me. “Indie,” he said softly, “I’m going to carry you to the car.”

  In one quick movement, he reached under my legs and lifted me up. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he walked through the bushes to the area where the cars had been parked. Not many were left.

  He put me in the backseat, and I immediately flopped down and curled into a tiny
ball. My chin hit my knees.

  What had happened? My body started to shake.

  Had something really bad happened? This couldn’t be. I couldn’t be going through this.

  Lacey got in beside me and put her hand on my arm. “We’ll call your parents when we get to the hospital. And your roommates, too. When we couldn’t find you, they went back to the apartment, thinking you might be there. Everyone has been frantic looking for you.”

  “Call Annabelle, too,” I murmured. My throat felt like I had swallowed sand, but at least I could speak. Annabelle needed to answer my questions.

  “I don’t have her number,” said Lacey. “Let’s just get you to the hospital first.”

  The car lurched forward, hurling stones and dirt as Paul drove onto the road. Once he hit pavement, he floored the gas. I just lay on the backseat, unable to get up.

  I tried to think.

  Someone took me into the woods.

  My pants. Down around my knees. Maybe nothing happened? Maybe I was going to pee in the bushes and had fallen and hit my head. Maybe this was all a dream.

  I could feel the tears on my face, but … if nothing was wrong, why was I crying?

  “Lacey,” I murmured, “I don’t remember anything. And if I don’t remember, then I’m okay. Right? Lacey. Right?”

  “Shhhh.” Lacey stroked my hair.

  By the time Paul pulled into the hospital parking lot, I had woken up a bit. I was so confused that I couldn’t grasp why they had brought me to the hospital. Lacey and Paul walked on either side of me, helping me into the emergency room. Lacey took charge and spoke to the woman at admitting. They took me in right away, leading me to a private room, where they gave me a blue gown. Lacey helped me put it on, but I didn’t speak to her. I couldn’t. No words would form.

  It was only when my mother walked through the door that I burst out crying again. My mom thanked Lacey, and she quietly stepped out, leaving us alone.

  Mom put her hand on my face. “Oh, Indie.”

  I hung my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I wasn’t drinking.”

  She put her finger under my chin and lifted my head. “This is not your fault, Indie. We will find out who did this to you.”

  Tears streamed down my face. What had happened to me? I couldn’t remember anything. Maybe nothing. Maybe they would find nothing.

  “Nothing happened, Mom. Nothing.”

  “They have to check you out anyway.” She stroked my hair. “You have to do a rape kit, honey. The doctor will have to examine you. Do you understand that?”

  “Not really,” I whispered.

  The door opened, and a young man dressed in a white medical coat and wearing a stethoscope around his neck walked in.

  “Indigo,” he said gently, “my name is Dr. Theissen.” He sounded genuinely kind and concerned.

  “Do you want me to stay in the room?” Mom asked.

  “It’s okay.” I hung my head.

  Mom left, and the doctor had me lie on my back on the table. He said his hands might be cold when he placed them in between my legs, but I didn’t actually feel anything, because my entire body was numb. It only took him a few minutes to complete the test and tell me that I could sit up. I pulled the blue gown as far down my legs as I could, in a desperate effort to get it past my knees.

  “Would you like me to get your mother?” he asked with a concern that made the tears start again.

  I nodded.

  Mom came back in the room, and I overheard them talking about me. “She has definite tearing and bruising and semen in her vagina,” the doctor said. “The police need to be called.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Yes, her father and I would like to press charges,” said my mother.

  Charges? “Where is Dad?” I interrupted.

  Mom turned away from the doctor and stepped toward me, putting her hand on my arm. “Indie, Dad is still out of town and would have been here if there were any flights. He will be back tomorrow.”

  I lowered my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face. I heard her exhale loudly. “If he saw you like this, he would kill whoever did this to you.” She moved her hand off my arm and gently put her arm around my shoulder. “Perhaps it’s good he’s not here. I’ve called him and talked to him. We can call him later from home.”

  “Indigo,” said the doctor from across the room. To me his voice sounded tinny and really far away. “I will be handing your medical records to the police, and I will be available to testify on your behalf. I’m also going to give you a sedative for tonight.”

  Mom squeezed my shoulder. “I want you to come home.”

  “I think that’s wise,” said the doctor. “She will need close observation.”

  I finally lifted my head to stare at both of them. The doctor fixed his gaze on me. “None of this is your fault. You’re a brave girl to be here.” He gathered his file, put it under his arm, and said, “You can get dressed now.”

  He left the room and Mom handed me my clothes. As she helped me into what I had been wearing earlier, a part of me reverted back to being a little girl—my mommy helping me dress because I couldn’t do it myself. Once on, my clothes scratched my skin, making me itch, and I felt dirty, cheap, gross. I wanted a hot bath and clean pajamas.

  Outside the waiting room, Lacey and Paul sat on chairs. They both jumped up when they saw me, and Lacey immediately ran over to me, but Paul hung back a bit.

  Did he think less of me because of this? I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I wanted to hide in a hole somewhere or even just behind the four walls of my childhood bedroom. I felt as if I was in a fog and couldn’t see.

  “Thanks for bringing her here,” said Mom.

  “Did you meet Paul?” I looked up at my mother. Why was I concerned about introductions? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What a stupid thing to say. I’m sure I sounded ridiculous.

  “Yes.” She smiled a little at me before glancing at Paul. “Thank you, Paul, for driving Indie.”

  He moved closer to me and said, “No problem.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I lowered my head again so I was staring at the tiled floor.

  “Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be at home, though. Not the apartment.”

  “Indie, I’ll do anything to help.”

  I turned away. No one could help now.

  The police showed up just as Lacey and Paul had decided to leave. One police officer wanted them to stay so he could ask them questions about the party and who was there. Another officer, a woman from the Special Victims Unit, took me to a private room and asked me question after question. She was pleasant and treated me with kindness, but I still felt as if I was being grilled and had done something horribly wrong.

  What did I remember? Did I know the guy? Could I recognize him? Who was I with? Who else was there? Could I give names? They would have to question as many people as possible to get answers, and anything I could tell them would be helpful, even though I’d been through a lot. I explained everything to the best of my ability, but there were segments of time that I couldn’t remember. This might sound weird, but I wanted to remember, thought it would make it all easier to answer the questions. I hated saying “I don’t know” over and over.

  As I answered the questions I could answer, my pulse quickened, and I thought I was going to choke on my words. Suddenly, it became clear to me, and I realized exactly what had happened.

  It has really happened. I have been raped.

  My blood surged inside me. How could God have done this to me?

  Why would he do this? I had tried to be good. He had no right. At this moment, I hated the person who did this to me. And I hated God.

  Finally, at around four in the morning, the police told Mom and me that we could leave but that we would have to go to the station later on for more questioning. Dad was flying home that morning, and Mom wanted him to be with us for the next round. How many more questions would I have to endure? I dreaded
the entire ordeal. I just wanted to sleep.

  Exhausted, I got in the front seat of the car and just sat there staring out at the darkness.

  We arrived home, and Mom helped me walk into the house and get out of my clothes and into a bath. Warm water surrounded me, and I let it cover me.

  “Will you be okay?” Mom asked.

  I met her gaze. “Yes. I will be fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You can leave the door unlocked if you want.” I sank into the tub and stared at the ceiling. I was allowed to clean up now. Get his smell off me. His dirt. His grime. His grossness.

  She shut the door, leaving me alone, surrounded by water. As I lay in the tub, I ran my fingertips over my skin. His dirt. His grime. His grossness. It stuck to me like glue that couldn’t be erased.

  Where had he touched me? I shuddered and pulled my hands out of the water. I didn’t want to know. Within seconds, I got out of the tub and wrapped myself in a towel. Would I ever get his dirt and grime and grossness off me?

  Of course, Mom was waiting outside the bathroom door.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said quietly.

  “I want Sasha and Sheena with me tonight.”

  She pulled me in her arms. “We will get through this together,” she said.

  When I got in my room, I immediately saw Cedar on my bed. I patted her back and hoped the girls would take care of Henry.

  “Why did it happen to me?” I asked Cedar. “No one protected me. No one.”

  She meowed.

  Mom opened the door, and my dogs bounded into the room, wagging their tails, without a care in the world. After I rubbed their ears and bellies, they flopped down at the foot of my bed.

  I curled under the covers and pulled the blankets up over my head, leaving only a little peephole so I could breathe.

  Then I started the prayer I always said when I was little to keep me safe.

  “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,

  “Bless the bed I lie upon.

  “Four corners to my bed …”

  I stopped speaking out loud and sucked in the stale air from a bedroom that no one had been in for months.