Spark (31 page)

I reach out for Aidan’s arm, and he helps me sit up. “Did I hit my head? Because it’s pounding.”
Like a motherfucker.
I run my hand over the back of my skull, my fingers running over something sharp. I pull out a small twig.
What the hell?
I hold it up, and show Aidan. He grinds his teeth in his jaw. Tension radiates from him, causing my stomach to flip. I have so many questions, but my head hurts, my body aches, and my thoughts are completely scattered. I look down my front, and lift up the blanket over my legs.
Why am I wearing a hospital gown?

“Where are my clothes?” I ask Aidan, running my hands down the pale-green gown. “And why aren’t I wearing any underwear?”

Aidan doesn’t answer, but turns his head towards the doctor.

“Miss Lawson,” Dr Taylor interrupts. She leans in, placing her warm hands on my shoulders. I meet her gaze as Aidan holds my hand. “We have your clothes. The police have taken them as evidence. Miss Lawson. You may have been raped. We are waiting on blood tests, but we need to take a urine sample as well to confirm if you were drugged. If you consent, we’ll use a rape kit and take some samples.”

Her words seem to jumble over the top of each other, not making sense. “Okay,” I mumble. I lay back down and close my eyes, swallowing invisible razorblades down my throat. She needs what? Samples?
Oh my God … did she say rape?

“Would you mind waiting outside the curtain for a few moments, please?” Dr Taylor says to Aidan.

He reluctantly rises off the bed. “I’ll be right out here, baby. Call out if you need me, okay?” Aidan pleads.

I slowly turn my head, my blurry eyes following him as his shadow fades behind the curtain.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, Miss Lawson.”

I close my eyes, but it doesn’t stop the tears from spilling into my ears, as I endure the most mortifying experience of my life. I silently suffer in my new living hell, desperately wishing I could transport myself out of here.

I just pray to God I’m not pregnant. I don’t know if I could bring a child into this world knowing its’ father is a rapist. This sick twisted feeling in my gut would remain with me forever, and I would see it in the eyes of my child every single day. I couldn’t do it. I think … I’d rather die.

When it’s over, she offers me a box of tissues. I dry my eyes, and brush my matted hair from my face. She takes the bag with samples outside the curtain, and returns seconds later with Aidan. He is instantly at my side, his warm hands like a furnace against mine.

“You’re going to be okay,” Aidan says, gripping my shoulders and holding me to him.

How can he say that? How can he know?

I sob uncontrollably, taking in air when I can. I can’t seem to catch my breath.

“The police will speak with you shortly, but right now we need you to give us a urine sample. Do you think you can get up?” She steps back and puts a plastic cup on the end of the bed. I take my time sitting. “Come on, let’s see if you can stand, and Mr Stone can take you to the bathroom.” Dr Taylor’s voice is softer this time.

I pull back the blanket and shakily stand, and shuffle to the bathroom, supported by Aidan. He holds me tight against him—not letting go for anything. Once in the bathroom, he locks the door to the small room and helps me sit on the toilet, and passes me the cup.

“Can you turn around please,” I say.

“You’re not feeling dizzy or anythin’?” Aidan asks, concerned. I don’t want to pee in front of him, but there are bigger things to worry about. He doesn’t turn around, and stays within arm’s reach.

“No, I was last night, but now I’ve got a cracking headache. It’s like the hangover from hell, and I hardly drank. I don’t understand.” I fill the cup, and sit it on the basin beside me. I stand and flush the toilet, holding the wall railing for balance. Aidan moves in close, hugging me tight. My whole body shivers against his warm chest. I’ve
never
been so cold. He rubs my arms up and down, but it does little to warm me.

“Fuck, Eevie. Thank fuck you’re alright. When I saw you lying there … I didn’t know what to think.” His voice chokes, his eyes watering. I hold him as tight as I can, but I might just pass out. I don’t know what to say. I want to tell him I’m okay and console
him
, but I can’t. I don’t know if I am.

I motion for him to let me go, and move over to the basin. I wash my hands, and take in my reflection.

“Bloody hell. I look fucking awful,” I gasp. My hair is in tangles, mascara in grey lines down my pale face. My skin is sticky and clammy all over. I run my hands over a large bruise on my neck, and move closer to the mirror.

“Is that a hickey?” I turn around to face him.

“That fucking prick is lucky he’s not dead,” Aidan says with pure hatred in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tightening. I’ve
never
seen him look this way. It causes the hairs up the back of my neck to prickle.

Aidan takes me into his arms once again, my tears falling on his shirt.
Who’s
lucky they’re not dead?
What
did they do to me? A loud knock on the door makes me jump.

“Is everything alright in there?” Dr Taylor says.

“Yeah, we’re comin’ out now,” Aidan replies.

“Come on, baby, let’s get this over with so I can get you home.” Aidan wipes the tears from my face with his thumbs.
Home. Please take me home.

I hand the sample to the doctor who is waiting in the hallway. “Thanks. I’ll be back shortly. The police are waiting back at the bed, and will speak with you now, if you’re up to it.”

Aidan supports me as I walk back. Two uniformed officers, one female and one male, wait at the foot of the bed. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.

“Miss Lawson?” the tall female officer asks. Her dark brown hair is pulled up into a severe bun, her posture rigid.

“Yes,” I choke out.

Aidan helps me into bed, pulling the covers up, and hands me some tissues. He sits on the edge of the mattress, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I try to delicately blow my nose, but it’s louder than I’d expected.

“I’m Senior Constable Williams, and this is Constable Fraser,” the female officer says, introducing herself and her partner. “We need to ask you some questions about last night. Do you feel like talking now?”

“I guess so, but I don’t remember much.”
Maybe you can tell me what the fuck happened?

Williams takes out a pocket book, flipping over a few pages. “That’s okay, we’ll try and get through as best we can,” Williams says, giving me a nod.

She starts off with questions about my name, address, and date of birth, which I guess are routine. “And what is the last thing you remember before waking up at the hospital?”

I try to breathe in deeply, but the invisible weight on my chest causes an ache inside. I close my eyes for a moment as I try to turn back the clock.

“I was having a few drinks with some friends. It was pretty hot in the bar, and I felt a bit dizzy. I needed some air, so I got up to go outside.”

“How many drinks had you consumed before you felt like this?” Williams continues.
Not a lot, is the answer.

“Um, a glass of wine with dinner … and three vodkas.”
Yes, not much over four hours
. I would have been alright to drive.

“When did you start drinking?”

“We started dinner at around 7.30pm, and I had the wine at the restaurant. I drank a few glasses of water with it, too.” Williams nods in response, furiously writing in her notebook.

“What did you have to eat?”

“We all had three courses.”

Williams nods again in acknowledgement, but doesn’t look up. “Who was present at dinner?”

“Crystal, and four of her girlfriends from work. She’d need to give you more details as I only met them for the first time tonight.”

“What time did you go to Suburban?”

“Around ten.”

“What did you drink there? Please give as much detail as possible.”

“When we got there, I bought Crystal and I a vodka, lime, and soda each.”

“So
you
bought the drinks?”

“Yes.”

“Did you leave this drink unattended at any time, say, to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Is that all you had to drink there?”

“No, Crystal bought the next round, another vodka, and I had it with me the whole time.”

“Apart from Crystal, did anyone else buy drinks for you?” Williams glances up from her notepad, her eyes drilling for a response.

I blink a couple of times, trying to think what happened next. Oh, that’s right, Dean dropped by.

“Yes, um, a friend, Dean, bought a round.”

Aidan squeezes my hands.

“His full name, please.”

“Dean Hastings.” My nose begins to run.

Constable Fraser moves the box of tissues in front of me. I wipe my nose … again.

“So, Mr Hastings bought you a drink?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna drink anymore, but he insisted on buying Crystal and I drinks. I asked him for a vodka-lime-soda, but he brought me a vodka, lime, and bitters, instead. It tasted a bit funny, but I don’t normally drink it, so didn’t know what it was supposed to taste like,” I blurt out.

“Mmm,” Williams mutters, nodding at Fraser.

“Try and explain the taste,” Fraser interrupts the line of questioning, moving in closer to the bed. My eyes scan over his balding head, and short stocky stature.

“Well, it was sweet with the lime, kind of spiced with the bitters, but was … um, I don’t know, a bit salty?” I do my best to describe it.

Fraser turns her head to Williams, who stares back.

“Did you see him buy the drink?” Williams is back asking the questions.

“No.”

Aidan squeezes my hands in my lap.

“How long do you think it was from when you started that drink to when you felt unwell?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Um … maybe ten to fifteen minutes?”

“Explain how you felt … as much detail as you can.”

“I felt hot and a bit nauseous, so I thought I’d get some fresh air. When I stood up, I felt dizzy.” I pause, and take in a few breaths. “Crystal asked me if I was okay, and I said I just needed some air. I … I told her where I was going. Where’s Crystal? She must be worried. And where is Dean?”

“Your friend, Crystal, is in the waiting room; we took her statement earlier. So when you got up, where was Mr Hastings?”

“He went to the bar for more drinks.”

“And what happened next?” Williams says, and then her mouth forms a firm line.

“I was walking towards the front door. I think I had my phone in my hand. I was going to call Aidan once I got outside, to see how far away he was. I … I can’t remember anything after that.”

“Oh, baby,” Aidan mumbles, kissing me on the forehead.

“Would you be prepared to make a statement, Miss Lawson?” Williams asks, with wide eyes.

“Sure,” I mutter.

“Well, from the information that Mr Stone gave us earlier, it was lucky you dropped your phone, as it led your friends in the right direction, otherwise, they may have been too late.”

“Where was my phone?” I turn and ask Aidan, wiping my eyes.

“I kept ringing it, hopin’ you’d answer, or I might hear it ring. By some miracle, I heard it in some parkland around the corner. I thought you couldn’t be far from there, so we all kept searching … and we found you.” Aidan describes the earlier events of the evening, his expression stone cold. There’s no trace of a smile, and his face is pale.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” I shake my head.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry. This wasn’t your fault.”

This isn’t making sense. I can’t piece this shit together. I’m having drinks with my friends, and then wake up with a motherfucking headache in the hospital with my clothes gone. I dart my eyes at Williams, and glare at her—I’m in pain, I’m emotional, and I fucking want answers.

“Look. I can’t remember anything else, but I need someone to fill in the blanks for me here because I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if you’ve told Aidan not to say anything to me, but someone
please
tell me …” My chest heaves, burning inside with each breath.

Silence.

“Just tell me!” I yell, my outburst startling Aidan, the doctor, but most of all, me. I bring my knees up, and fold my arms. My head sinks onto my forearms, and I cry.
What else can I fucking do?

The bed moves, and I look up to see Williams sitting on the end of it, but she doesn’t touch me. I try to hold back the tears, but like a dam about to burst, there comes a point where it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lawson, I understand this is a very difficult time for you. We just needed to get a statement from you before you spoke with anyone else, in the event that charges are made. As you have nothing further to add, let me reiterate some of the information that Mr Stone, and your friend, Crystal, er, Miss McLean provided from the time they located you. Now, please prepare yourself, as this may not be easy to hear.”

Williams scrolls back several pages in her notebook.

Good. I’m gonna get some answers. But do I really want to know?

“At approximately eleven pm, Mr Stone and Miss McLean saw you from a distance, lying on the ground in a laneway approximately two hundred metres from the Suburban bar. A male was kneeling above you, touching you, when Mr Stone called out your name. The male was startled, and started to run, but Mr Stone was … able to verify him,” she says.

I stare into Aidan’s eyes. He knows who did this, and he nearly killed him, judging on what he’d said earlier. Williams’ recount of events seems to have omitted this.

“You were unconscious, and Mr Stone and Miss McLean were unable to wake you. Your shirt was ripped open along the buttons, your underpants were tangled around your ankles, and your skirt was lifted around your waist.”

I gasp, my heart seizing … wanting to stop the pain from pumping throughout my body. Someone attacked me … someone tried to …
oh, God
.

A solitary tear rolls down Aidan’s cheek, his chin quivering. It’s not just me who has been affected by this. A sudden ache rips through my chest. I can’t begin to imagine what he went through when he couldn’t find me, and then to find me in such a state … it’s almost too much to bear.