For a moment I consider really shocking her by telling her about the rape, but it would probably just blow up in my face. Instead I tell her about how Dad and I are going to church now. “We really like it,” I say cheerfully. “It’s kind of like our old church, only bigger. And the youth group is really great. I’ve made some good friends.”
“Oh.” There is a long silence and I think maybe I’ve given her something to think about.
“Anyway, I wanted to talk to Sean. Is he around?”
“Of course he’s around. Where else would he be? All he does is watch violent movies and play video games.”
I want to question why she allows that in her house but don’t want to rock Sean’s unstable world too much. After a long wait, Sean comes to the phone. “Hey, Hay,” he says in a depressed tone.
“Hey, Sean. I miss you, bro!”
“Miss you too.” Still flat, depressed, broken.
“I’m really enjoying being down here with Dad. He’s really changed, Sean. In good ways, I mean. And we’d love it if you could come down and visit for a while during Christmas. Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know Mom doesn’t really celebrate Christmas anymore,” I remind him. “So it’s not like you’ll be missing anything. And our church is going to have a cool service, and the music is really good.”
“I don’t know …” he says again.
“Please, Sean. Will you do it for me? I’d love to have at least part of our family together. And Dad will pay for your plane ticket.”
“A plane ticket?” For some reason this seems to pique his interest — like he knows Dad is serious about wanting him to visit.
“Yeah. And we’ll plan some fun things to do while you’re here. I don’t think you’ll be sorry.”
“Well, I guess I could go down there, just for a few days anyway.”
“Great!” Now we go over when he should fly down and how long he should stay, and I promise to get back to him. “I can’t wait to see you, Sean!”
“Yeah …” Flat voice again. “Me, too.”
By the end of the day, Dad’s booked Sean a flight and I e-mail the information to him. Then I spend a couple afternoons cleaning the condo, getting it ready for Sean. I even put up Christmas decorations, and Dad and I get a tree and do some Christmas shopping.
“I want this to be Sean’s best Christmas since getting home from Iraq,” I tell Dad. “It’s like he’s missed out on so much. Maybe it will make a difference to him.”
Dad smiles sadly. “Just don’t get your hopes up too high.”
“I won’t. Mostly I’ll just be glad to see him. Poor guy, he deserves a break from Mom.”
“I wish your mom could get a break too.” Dad shakes his head. “From herself anyway.”
……….
Sean arrives two days before Christmas, and he actually seems a tiny bit more like his old self as he tells us about the turbulence on the flight. Maybe the flight shook something into him. To celebrate Sean’s homecoming, Dad takes us out to dinner. I try not to cringe when I realize he’s taking us to the same steak-house where Harris took me — back in another lifetime. But Sean seems to appreciate it and orders a humongous steak, which he easily consumes.
“Looks like you’ve been building up an appetite,” Dad tells him.
Sean shrugs. “Mom doesn’t cook much anymore.”
There’s a long silence and I know we’re all thinking pretty much the same thing, but what can we say?
“Tonight we’re going to watch It’s a Wonderful Life,” I say just to get the conversation going again. “Remember how we used to love it?”
Sean shrugs again. “I guess.”
It’s pretty quiet on the way back, and I’m thankful we have an activity to do together tonight. When we get home, I make microwave popcorn and put out the plate of brownies I made yesterday, and to my relief, Sean seems almost happy to be with us — and to be here.
As we watch the movie, he loosens up some, and I can tell by his expression that he’s really getting into it. And when the scene comes up where George Bailey is about to jump off the bridge, Sean starts crying.
Dad grabs the remote and turns off the TV and we both turn to Sean. “Do you need to talk, son?” Dad asks softly.
Sean just shakes his head. “No one would understand.”
I’ve heard him say this same thing before … many times. But this time, I decide to challenge him and I actually stand up. “You know what? You might be surprised at what I would understand.”
Dad nods, leaning back as if to give me the floor.
“Really?” Sean’s tone is skeptical. “In your sixteen and a half years, living as a protected princess, you think you can relate to what I’ve been through?”
“Not completely, Sean. But you might be surprised to hear that I’m being treated for PTSD.”
He does look surprised. “What for? Did you get a bad grade in algebra?”
I take in a deep breath, then begin telling him about being raped. I don’t go into all the details but share just enough to get his attention.
“I’m sorry, Haley. I had no idea.”
“Mom doesn’t know. But I thought maybe you needed to hear about it.”
“And you’re really getting PTSD counseling?”
“I’ve been going for about six weeks, and I think I’m ready to move on now.”
“Did it do you any good?”
I nod eagerly. “Yes. The counselor knows her stuff. She’s very helpful. She gives you tools to deal with things.”
“Maybe you’d like to meet her,” Dad suggests.
Sean shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What could it hurt?” I ask.
Sean looks at Dad and then at me and nods. “Yeah, I guess it couldn’t.”
“And if you discover that the counseling helps,” Dad tells him, “you’d be welcome to stick around here and continue with it. Maybe you could look into the local community college. I hear it’s a good one.”
Sean sighs. “I do have GI money for that.”
“You used to like school,” I say.
He just nods, then points to the TV. “Can we finish the movie now?”
So Dad turns it back on and we sit there together, watching the story of a good man whose life appears to fall completely apart and how, with the help and love of friends and family, he gets it back together. Appropriate, I think.
……….
Harris’s trial is scheduled for the second week of January, and as the day draws closer, I get increasingly nervous. Despite Dad and Sean and my friends at school encouraging me that it’ll be okay, I am feeling pretty scared. But then so are the other girls who will be testifying at his trial. As a result, Bonnie holds a special meeting to let us practice for court. We take turns sitting in the witness stand, a chair in front, and Bonnie plays the defense by questioning us. Some of her questions are hard and hurtful. And sometimes we cry.
“I’m sorry to do this,” Bonnie tells us after our first session. “But it’s very possible you’ll be treated like that in the courtroom, and I just want you to remain strong and to tell the truth.” By the end of the second session, just a few days before the trial, we all feel like we can do this.
Both Dad and Sean go with me to the trial. I’m surprised at how Sean really seems to be changing, not back to his old self but into a stronger person. Right now, sitting across the room from Harris, I need all the strength I can get. Dressed in a sharp-looking navy suit, he holds his handsome head up, like he’s here to prove his innocence. I notice the same middle-aged couple from the art show sitting directly behind Harris. It seems I had them pegged.
I glance at Dad and Sean and feel a rush of relief just knowing my family is here for me. It’s also encouraging knowing that Zach is sitting right behind us. Plus a number of the other girls are here with their families for support.
However, I discover there’s a lot to get aggravated about in court. Everythin
g seems to take forever, and you can’t shout out when someone tells a lie. And hearing Harris painting these totally bogus scenes and acting like he’s the victim makes me want to scream. But I control myself, remembering that I’ll get my chance. At least I hope I will. Because all the victims have written their statements and the DA has presented them as evidence to the judge, we don’t all have to take the witness stand. So it’s possible I won’t even be asked to go up. But eventually I do get my turn, and it’s weird because I’m almost eager.
But after I take an oath to tell the truth, it’s unnerving to see Harris sitting just a few feet away from me. I stare at him for a moment, and for some reason he doesn’t look like how I remembered him. I’m not sure if he’s changed or if I have, but instead of being gorgeous like I thought he was before, he seems flat and ordinary to me. Almost like a cardboard cutout.
Bonnie’s mock-trial training turns out to be fairly accurate, so I’m not too shocked by the insinuations and outright lies coming from the defense.
“Is it true that you invited Harris into your home on the night of the alleged rape?” the attorney asks. She is middle-aged and slightly motherly looking, but there’s a meanness in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“And is it true that this wasn’t the first time Harris had been in your home?”
“Yes.”
“And is it true that you invited Harris into your home with the full knowledge that your father was not at home.”
“No …” I try to remember. “I wasn’t totally sure that — ”
“You have sworn to tell the truth, Miss McLean.”
“I am telling the truth. I wasn’t sure if my dad was home or not.”
“Yes, but you were aware that your father was out on a date.” She says the word as if it’s something immoral.
“Yes, but I thought he might be home.”
“And on the night you invited Harris to take a late-night swim with you, is it true that your father was out with his girlfriend then?”
“I did not invite Harris for a late-night swim,” I tell her. “That was his idea.”
“Whose pool did you use?” “It’s the condo pool.”
“So you were playing hostess,” she states. “You let Harris change his clothes in your house while your father was out. You allowed him to swim in your pool. Or did he force his way?”
“Harris asked to go swimming. I did not invite him.”
“But you agreed?”
“Yes.”
Her line of questioning goes on for a while and I try to give honest answers, but she often cuts me off when it suits her. Eventually I get so frustrated that a few tears slip out and I’m worried I’ll botch the whole trial. Eventually the DA gets his turn and I am allowed to tell what really happened that horrible night. And after what feels like hours, the judge finally excuses me.
As I leave the witness stand, I’m shaking so badly I’m not sure I can walk in a straight line back to my seat. As I pass by where Harris is sitting, I catch him sneering at me and I can’t help but stare back. However, I say nothing, just continue to my seat, where Dad and Sean both smile and squeeze my hands and tell me I did great. Zach pats me on the back. And I try to just breathe.
However, I’m so numb that a lot of the rest of the trial washes over me. Then finally the judge bangs his gavel, and I think he’s about to declare Harris guilty or not guilty. Instead, he says the court will take a recess while the jury deliberates.
Dad and Sean manage to eat lunch, but my stomach is in tight little knots. All I can think is, what if our evidence isn’t sufficient to convict him? What if Harris walks away? What if he launches a countersuit against me? Still, I don’t voice these doubts.
God, please help the jurors to make the right decision.
Then, suddenly, it’s time to go back into court, and the room is filled with anticipation as we all return to our seats, waiting for the verdict. I grab both Dad’s and Sean’s hands, holding tightly to them while we wait. I try to listen as one of the jury members says something, but my brain is too fuzzy and I feel slightly dizzy and almost sick. But then Dad and Sean and all the others on our side are beginning to cheer and clap.
It’s over. Harris has been convicted. He has been declared GUILTY!
But here is the weirdest part of this very weird day. I look over and see his parents sobbing and holding on to each other, and then Harris turns around and, seeing them, he breaks into tears too, and I feel no sense of victory. In fact, I have tears running down my cheeks too. And all I can think is, what a waste. What a sad and crazy and unfortunate waste.
I’m so upset that I have to turn away. But Dad and Sean and Zach all hug me, and we leave that sad, dark place and go out to where the sun is shining way too brightly. I feel raw and weak … almost as if the skin has been peeled off me.
“You did great,” Zach tells me. Then he hugs me again and promises to call, and I am left with Dad and Sean. But I still feel strange, like none of this was real, like it can’t truly be over — not just like that. Surely someone is going to pull the rug out from under me again.
“You saw it through,” Dad tells me as we walk to the car. “I’m proud of you.”
“Me, too.” Sean slaps me on the back, jolting me back into the here and now, making me believe that maybe this really is over. “Way to go, sis. Now that jerk will end up right where he belongs.”
“Will he really have to serve twelve years?” I ask Dad. For some reason, twelve years sounds like forever. Not that I want Harris to get off easy. I just don’t want to feel guilty about his sentencing. I want to be free of all parts of this.
Dad shrugs. “I don’t know if too many people serve their full sentences these days. And there’s always the chance his attorney will appeal, although I don’t see the point.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s over,” I admit. “But I guess I feel sorry for Harris’s family.” I don’t mention that I actually feel a tiny bit sorry for Harris as well. I don’t think they’d understand that. Just the same, when I think of what he did to me and the other girls, I’m not sorry. And I’m very relieved that he will be unable to hurt anyone else.
As we drive home, I realize that I need to forgive Harris. It’s something I’ve been thinking about off and on for weeks. But I’ve never been able to really take it head-on. Not until now. Suddenly I remember something the youth pastor said a couple of weeks ago.
“Refusing to forgive someone is like drinking poison and then assuming the other person is going to die. The truth is, you are simply killing yourself.”
I run those words around in my head as we drive home. If I don’t forgive Harris, I am hurting myself. I need to let go of this horrible offense. Not so much for Harris as for myself. And somehow that makes it a little easier.
I close my eyes and silently pray. God, I choose to forgive Harris for raping me. I want to put this painful memory to rest and move on.
As simple as that sounds, it feels like it worked, and I believe God is helping me. Although I suspect I may have to go through these steps again. I remember the Bible verse about forgiving seventy times seven. At that rate, it might take nearly five hundred more times for me to completely forgive Harris.
But as Dad parks the car at the condo, I realize that right now, at this very moment, it feels like I’ve really forgiven him. It’s like a weight has been lifted from me, and I realize that God must’ve been the one doing the lifting, and it’s a huge relief. I don’t want to keep drinking poison.
Once we’re in the condo, I decide that I will write Harris a letter and send it to the prison. Not today, but someday I will write him a letter and tell him that I forgive him. And I’ll make it clear that my forgiveness isn’t a way of saying that I don’t think he was wrong, wrong, wrong in what he did to me and the other girls. I will simply state that I am forgiving him because God has forgiven me and because I don’t want to be poisoned by my own unforgiveness.
I might even tell him about wha
t I’ve been learning lately. According to what our pastor says and from what I’ve been reading in the Bible, I have become convinced that God thoroughly enjoys fixing and saving things that are broken. That means no matter how hurt and defeated you feel, no matter how badly you have been damaged, God can repair you. God can give anyone a second chance. Even someone like Harris Stephens.
… [DISCUSSION QUESTIONS] …
1. Early in the story, you can see that Haley has some challenges, but for the most part, she seems like a fairly grounded character. What part of her personality do you most relate to and why?
2. What three words would you use to describe Haley’s mother? Explain why.
3. What three words would you use to describe Haley’s father? Explain why.
4. On a scale of one to ten (one = feeling imprisoned and ten = having complete freedom), what number would you say Haley experienced with her mother? And later with her father? What number would best describe your own home?
5. What was your first impression of Harris Stephens? How would you respond to a guy who came across like that in a relationship with you? Be honest.
6. What were your first impressions of Zack and Poppie, Haley’s art class acquaintances?
7. What did you think the first time Harris came into Haley’s condo when her father was gone? If you were Haley’s best friend, what would you have said about that?
8. How did you respond to the scene where Harris raped Haley? Describe how it made you feel.
9. What could Haley have done (if anything) to have prevented being raped?
10. How do you think date rape compares to rape? Why do you think it’s so underreported? How would you help a friend who was in a similar situation?
11. Why do you think Haley had such a hard time telling anyone about what happened to her? How could she have handled it differently?
12. What was the most important thing you learned from reading this book?
……ABOUT THE AUTHOR……
MELODY CARLSON has written more than three hundred books for all age groups, but she particularly enjoys writing for teens. Perhaps this is because her own teen years remain so vivid in her memory. After claiming to be an atheist at the ripe old age of twelve, she later surrendered her heart to Jesus and has been following him ever since. Her hope and prayer for all her readers is that each one would be touched by God in a special way through her stories. For more information, please visit Melody’s website at www.melodycarlson.com.
Damaged Page 16
