A woman and a man

I do not hear the door open, but in the corner of my eye, I could hear people coming out, stepping onto the damp welcome mat at the foot of the door. It's as if my head has surfaced from underwater and I finally hear a voice, two voices in fact, but the first, the voice of a female, is the most prominent one in my ears. “Get her inside,” the voice said, possibly to the other person. “She needs help. She's hurt.”

I feel myself get carried from the cold and the wet into someplace warm. As soon as I no longer feel the sharpness of the cold, the bite of the breeze against my drenched body, I realize that I am not dreaming at all. Whoever is living in this house went out of their way to help me, at least putting me in the comfort of the house.

I am carried upstairs to a bathroom and I feel myself being lowered into a dry tub. I left there as the man and the woman step outside into the hallway. I could hear them murmuring to each other and I realize why they had done so. From what I could hear, I could only make out, “...she could be a runaway or...” some words are more muffled than others, “she may have escaped. You saw the bruises...” There is a short pause where I do not hear any voices. Then the female's voice cuts the brief silence. “I think I need my kit,” is what I make out last. The voices speak in lower tones afterwards, but I cannot make out anything after that. I can hear footsteps fade into a distance then return and I sense by the loudness of the footfalls, they come right to the door. It opens and in comes the woman, who is short in stature and has blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

“Hello, miss. I'm Elena Palmer, I'm a detective for the local police department. I think you're very fortunate you stumbled upon this house. It's great we were able to help you out of the storm. We are going to clean you up in a bit, but first, I think you may be a victim of ****, since you have bruises on your body. May I ask if you have been assaulted...” she speaks, first explaining herself and her intentions. She then asks, carefully uttering details in her question, “...sexually?”

I nod, weakly, having no strength to move my head as much as I would like. If I could, I would sing and dance it out for her, but I have no such energy.

“Okay. Now, the owner of this house is getting a kit for me. I will need to take a couple swabs of your vagina, to gather evidence. Do I have your consent to do so?” she asks. I nod. “Alright, thank you. As soon as I'm done, I'll personally go ahead and clean you up. Now, just lay back against the slope of the tub and separate your thighs.” I do as I'm told, leaning back against the slope at the end of the tub farthest from the spout and drain. When I find a good position, I subsequently separate my thighs as wide as the tub would allow. “Alright, now, I'll be inserting two swabs. You might feel some stinging, but it will be very short, so please bear with me.” I stare at the ceiling, at the showerhead, focusing on it. My memories bring me back to a time where the showerhead is much different. It's an older model, simple in design and has some of that dried white residue upon its stainless-steel surface.

I'm brought back to the present as soon as I feel a sting in my vagina, I wince, but I bear it. I turn my head to the detective at the side of the tub and relax at her appearance, knowing that she is helping me by gathering evidence. Another swab, another sting and another wince from me, but that's it. “You did good, miss. Now, if I may, I want to stick some swabs along the inside of your cheek. This is so we can identify you. I'm guessing you don't have a wallet or ID on you.” I shake my head as much as I could as I lean forward. “Alright just a couple more swabs, one along each cheek.”

I feel her gentle, soft hands support my chin and when she presses against my cheeks, I open my mouth as wide as I can. A swab enters, but unlike my vagina earlier, their entry doesn't come with stinging. Elena runs the cotton up and down my cheek a couple times before she removes it and stashes it in a container. She does the same for the other swab along the opposite cheek.

“Thank you, young lady. Now, let's start by getting this shirt off of you,” she says when she returns. I assist by relaxing my body, lifting my arms up so that the garment I used to clothe myself could be lifted off of my body. I'm unsure of what state my body is in, but judging from Elena's reaction, it's not like I'm bleeding all over the place. She inserts the plug to the drains, opens up the tub's spout, adjusting the temperature at low pressure. When the temperature is warm enough, she allows the tub to be filled. Relaxed, I let Elena clean myself up, gently scrubbing away three-years-worth of filth and negligence. I feel stinging when she runs a sponge across fresher places that were injured, but the worst of it is across the area that were focused on in my ordeal, my vagina and anus.

I'm left to rest in the warm water for a bit before Elena assists me out of the tub, allowing me to step upon a towel laid across the floor to prevent me from slipping. She dries me off and clothes me in a large shirt. “It's the best that we can give at such short notice, but why didn't you go to the hospital?” she asks, but I don't answer. Did I reserve thoughts that my parents had faith I would return? I held some ounce of faith that they would be still living in this house, but I was wrong in that regard. Elena doesn't pester me with questions as she fastens the buttons in the front of my body. The shirt is like a dress on me, the bottom edge of it easily going down past my waist. At least with the bath, I somehow gain enough energy to roll up the sleeves, as they do go past the ends of my arms.

Elena takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. She takes me into a room nearby and judging from the large bed, this must be the master bedroom. Something in my mind, my memory, finds familiarity in how the room is arranged, but I think nothing of it, assuming a lot of people have similar ways of arranging their rooms. This may have been my parents' house, but I'm starting to think they have moved out long before my return.

Elena lifts the comforter and duvet, giving me a space to enter the bed. I take a seat on the side and take a deep breath. My ordeal is over, but my thoughts go out to the two girls I left. Elena speaks, “My friend has agreed to let you rest in his bed. He will spend the night downstairs, so if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. If you need to reach me, just let my friend know.” She stands to leave, but I grab her wrist. She turns back and asks, “Anything else?”

I gesture her for a pen and paper and when she comes back with the requested items, I write down the details of where I was held captive, to the best of my knowledge and memory. By the time I'm done, I've written a whole page of information and I'm on the verge of tears.

My emotion is impressed upon Elena and she feels my sorrow and pain in this moment. She grasps my hands and squeezes them and kneels before me, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “You're so brave. I can't imagine what you did to escape from wherever you were imprisoned. I'll do everything in my power to help your friends and to bring justice to this man. In the meantime, forget of what you went through and rest your body. You are safe now.” I nod while still sobbing, bidding farewell to Elena as she leaves, in a hurry no less. I'm guessing my emotion, in conveying to her the information I just written down, has motivated her to simply not wait on details such as these. I take her motivation as a sign for me to truly relax, that everything will be taken care of, that I have nothing to worry about.

I lay myself down and cover myself with the blankets, feeling comfort for the first time. The warmth I feel is gentle upon my body and it's not the warmth I feel whenever that man twice my size pins me to a bed without comforting luxuries. Following her advice, I forget about the past three years and in no time at all, I fall asleep.