Until Today (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

“Are you sure, Kat? You don't have to do this.” Scott glances at me, his concern evident.

Sinking back into the patio chair, I stare blindly, trying to gather my thoughts. Why do things have to be so complicated? Every time I think I've made up my mind, I change it again. Everything happened so fast.

Mom is still with the officer and they have walked around to the front of the house. Steph has taken Sarah inside to try and calm her down.

For what seems like the hundredth time since the craziness began, I've wondered if I'm ready. I feel incapable of making a decision and sticking to it.

“I don't know,” I finally whisper.

“Don't rush this, Kat. If you talk to them…well, you have to be sure.”

“I think I'm going to see how it feels when we get to the station. I know Mom will go there as soon as the officer leaves, and I want to go along. If I don't say anything, what will they do to Dad?” My stomach tightens with nerves.

“I don't know. But if you say something now, you can't turn back. You have to do it for yourself, not to help your dad out of this mess. He's a big boy – he can handle what's coming. I'm sure he wouldn't expect you to say anything if you're not ready.”

“You don't know my father.”

“Maybe, but he might surprise you, Kat.”

Reluctantly, I admit to myself that Dad has surprised me already. I expected him to turn and yell at me earlier tonight, but he attacked his best friend instead.

Does that mean Dad believes me?

Scott squeezes my hand. I stare at the cold, brick walls of the house, picturing Dad and Greg sitting in prison cells. Would they put them into cells? How would it feel to be behind bars? What is Greg telling the police? A small part of me wishes things could go back to the way they were. I fight the urge to run into the house and try to forget it all happened, but deep down, I know that if I let myself down now, I'll never have the courage to come this far again.
I'll never forgive myself if I don't follow through.

I see an image of Dad's face as he looked at me just before the officer led him away. He told me that things would work out. Was that the lawyer in him or the father talking?

And then I see Greg, his eyes burning into mine, his lips set in a grim line and his fists clenched in the cuffs behind his back. I focus on this picture, trying to figure out what's missing. He's been angry and upset with me before, he's been sweet and cajoling, he's been domineering, but he's never had a look of hatred like that. That look of hatred on his face made me feel – I stopped dead in my tracks.
GADS!
I didn't feel anything at all!
I wasn't scared of him.

“Oh, wow,” I say, barely realizing that I'm speaking out loud.

“What is it?” Scott leans forward.

“I wasn't scared of Greg. I didn't turn to ice inside like I always have before. What does that mean?” I ask Scott.

“I don't know, Kat. Maybe it means you finally felt safe.”

“Yeah, maybe. I always pictured Mom and Dad freaking out – but on me, not Greg. I figured they'd call me a liar for the rest of my life, but they didn't. Even Steph came after everything we've been through lately. I had the courage to speak out and you were all there for me and no one called me a liar. Even Sarah didn't defend Greg this time.” I grasp Scott's hand and turn sideways in my seat to look directly at him.

“I had the upper hand!”

A sense of power sweeps over me. It feels so sweet I can almost taste it.
Is this how Greg felt when he had power over me all those years? Did he feel invincible?

“I can do this, Scott.”

Scott studies me for a moment, smiles, and nods.

Chapter Twenty-Two

He's in there, behind bars, and I'm out here. I have the power to keep him there, where he belongs – if I can do this.

I hesitate in front of the doors of the police station. Mom pauses beside me with her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “You're sure?”

She's asked the same question several times since she finished with the officer at the house and saw the look on my face when she returned to the backyard to find me. It's like she read my mind and knew what I was going to do without asking. I have no idea what explanation she gave the police officer for Dad and Greg's fight, but she didn't tell him about my accusation. I guess she figured it was up to me to decide if I wanted to take it further. Mom was clearly in a state of shock after the officer left. I've never seen her so pale and withdrawn before.

I look at her reflection in the glass door of the station and nod. I'm sure. I think of little Taylor, lying alone in the hospital, with no support from anyone. If she could find the courage to tell, so can I.

Inside, no one is manning the counter, so Mom and I wait. The entrance is pretty much what I expected. The walls are cold and white, and the floor is a dull gray with black scuff marks and smudges. A poster hanging to my right promotes Neighborhood Watch programs and another one advertises an upcoming charity auction to raise money for the homeless. I half expect to see WANTED posters, but aside from pictures of missing children, there are none.

Stacks of pamphlets sit on the counter for people to read. I bend over to pick up one that's fallen to the floor. I reach to return it to the pile, when the bright red words across the top catch my attention. “What Should You Do If You Suspect Child Abuse?” A little girl holding a teddy bear and sucking her thumb is pictured on the front.

I freeze, staring at the words, as they register and repeat in my head.
Child abuse…child abuse…child abuse.
I'm an abused child. Putting a label to me – to something that happened to me – makes it seem so real. I'm a statistic. I'm one of them…one of those numbers mentioned in a pamphlet that someone dropped on the floor not caring enough to pick it up let alone take it home.

“Can I help you?”

I come to attention with a start. Across the counter from me is a pair of impatient brown eyes, set in the face of a young officer who seems busy and about to rush off again. Fiddling with the pamphlet in my hand, I'm unable to make my brain connect to my mouth.
Say something, Kat. Don't just stare at him. Do you want to be a victim all your life?

“You okay?” the officer asks, narrowing his eyes and probably wondering what kind of drugs I'm on.

“I…I need to…” I stammer.

“We need to talk to someone.” My mom steps in just as another officer walks into the room. I immediately recognize him as the man who pulled Dad and Greg apart at our house.

“It's all right, Chambers, I've got this,” he says, and the brown-eyed officer rushes away, a pile of papers under his arm and a look of relief on his face.

“Your name's Kat, isn't it?” The officer waits for me to find my tongue.

I nod stupidly.

“Are you here to add something to your statement?” He glances at Mom.

Mom grips my shoulders with reassuring hands. “Yes, we need to talk to you.” She glances around. “If we could go somewhere private—”

“Maria! Don't say a word. I'll handle this.” My father comes out through a door to the side. He doesn't look much better than he did when he was taken away, except that the blood has stopped flowing from his nose. His right eye is swollen, he has a fat lip, and a rainbow of blues, purples and blacks colors his face.

“Where's Sarah?”

Mom answers quietly. “She's at home with Steph and Scott. Kat thought maybe she'd like to come and talk to somebody.” Mom squeezes my hand, trying to send me a message. I hesitate, uncertain if she is encouraging me to proceed or to listen to Dad. I'm so used to her being a buffer between us that I'm not sure what she is trying to tell me.

“Kat doesn't need to talk to anybody. I'll handle everything.”

They're talking about me as if I'm not even here, just like Dad has always done. Talking about me and making all my decisions for me, without even stopping to wonder what I want and think. Years of hearing Dad saying “Kat needs this…” or “Kat doesn't want that…” or “Kat is going to do this…” or, worst of all, “Kat will try better next time….”

No more.

“No,” I whisper. Dad looks at me curiously. Mom's eyes are full of fear, but I'm sure I also see a hint of encouragement. The officer raises his eyebrow as if inquiring whether I have more to say.

“No, you won't handle this. I need to talk to somebody.” A force rings in my voice that I have never used with Dad.

“Okay, why don't you come this way?” the officer says, walking toward a door marked authorized personnel only.

Dad has found his voice again. “I'll come with her.”

Telling a stranger what Greg did to me is one thing, but saying those things in front of my father is another. In time, I might be able to, but not now. Not with the questions they'll ask. How can I admit in front of them the things I let Greg do and the things he made me do to him? I still have a hard enough time admitting them to myself.

“I…I don't think that's a good idea.” I hope my father will let it rest this one time and treat me like I'm not a small child.

Dad steps forward, his mouth open in protest, when Mom interrupts and volunteers to come.

Part of me wants Mom there. Part of me wants to cling to her warmth and strength and lose myself in her protection. Will I be able to do this if I have her there? Will I be able to say the things I need to say with her beside me? She hasn't let me down yet, but I might let myself down if she's there. No. I need to do this by myself. I need to fight my demons and say the words.

I shake my head at Mom, begging her with my eyes to understand and not be hurt by my rejection. She smiles sadly and nods.

I follow the officer through the door, down a long beige hallway to a room with a large mirror, a table and four chairs. If I wasn't so nervous I'd probably laugh – it's just what I would picture in the movies.

The officer, following the direction of my stare, shrugs self-consciously. “I know…. Seems like something out of the movies when they're interviewing a murder suspect. We're renovating and we don't have many empty rooms right now. Trust me, there's no one behind the mirror.”

I shrug, beginning to wonder if this is all a big mistake.

“Let me just go find the detective. I'll be right back.”

“A detective? Why?”

The officer shrugs and looks at me closely. “I think it would be a good idea.” He turns and shuts the door behind him.

A murder suspect the cop had said…in a way, it's true. Greg murdered the little girl I used to be. He killed that child the first time he touched me.

Voices interrupt my thoughts and a woman follows the tall officer back into the room.

“I don't know if you remember, but I'm Officer Jackson,” the man says, “and this is Detective Donaldson. She's going to talk to you today. We have equipment in this room that will record what you are going to tell us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say, barely louder than a whisper.

“We should also let you know that we could do this at the Domestic Violence Unit instead of here, where there are case workers available. Would you like to continue, or would you rather go there?”

“Let's just do it,” I say.

Officer Jackson nods and moves out of my direct line of vision to lean against the wall. Detective Donaldson sits across from me at the table. She looks very young. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a bun and her smile seems kind and gentle. She isn't dressed in a police uniform like Officer Jackson. She's wearing blue jeans and a blazer jacket. Her eyes are hard to read, but I can see the lines of fatigue around them.

“Sorry about the room, Kat. I know it's not very comfortable, but it's all we have at the moment,” Detective Donaldson says. “Officer Jackson tells me you're looking for somebody to talk to. I understand you had some excitement at your house earlier, and your mother was quite agitated about it. Is this what you want to talk about?”

I nod and stare at the diamond ring on her hand. She must have somebody at home waiting for her, somebody who cares about her, no matter what happens.

“Do you want to talk about your dad?” she asks.

The light sparkles off the diamond when she turns her hand. Unable to lift my eyes, I shake my head.

“Okay. Is this about another family member?”

Again, I shake my head, still unable to look into her eyes, afraid she'll be able to read everything that's going on inside me.

“Officer Jackson told me the man fighting with your father is a family friend. Is it him you want to talk about?”

Fidgeting with my hands, I wonder what a diamond like that would look like on my finger. Would it feel cold or warm? Would it protect me from all evil? Could I have used it to scratch Greg's eyes out when he came near me?

“Kat?”

I remain silent for a few more moments before I hear her soft voice again. “Would you like to try this again another day?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Come back again? If I walk out of this station right now, I'll never come back.

I raise my head and look into the detective's eyes. Is it my imagination, or is there understanding there?

“No, I don't want to come back. I want to do this now.”

“All right then. Let's go. Are you ready?”

I nod and inhale a deep breath of stale air. “I want to talk about Greg.”

“Greg is the man your father fought with? He's a friend of your father's?”

“Yes, since high school.”

“You've known Greg for a long time?”

“All my life.”

“Are you and Greg close?”

Close is one word you could use. I start fidgeting with my hands, trying to spit out the words that are lodged tight in my throat.

“Did something about that question upset you, Kat?”

I didn't think it would be this hard saying the words to a stranger. I look around the room, my eyes resting briefly on Officer Johnson, who is standing in the corner. My palms are wet and clammy while I fidget with them. I try to think and ignore the ringing in my ears.

“I…, um…I'd like my mom to come in.”

“Would you like me to get her?” Officer Johnson asks.

“Yes…. I mean, no. No, it's okay…. You don't have to get her.” I pause, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your question upset me.”

Officer Johnson fades back into the corner, almost forgotten, as I stare into the eyes of Detective Donaldson. I search for any sign that she'd rather be somewhere else, but don't see it. Her attention seems completely focused on me. As if reading my thoughts, she leans forward in her seat, waiting for my next words.

“I guess we're close. He always says I'm special.” My voice cracks on the last word. I hope I never have to use or hear that word again.

My stomach churns and my face burns in embarrassment.

The detective waits, staring directly at me. Finally she breaks her silence. “Can you tell me why he said that, Kat?”

The room starts to spin and Greg's words come rushing back.
Don't ever tell, Kitty Kat. They'll blame you. You're a bad girl, but I'll protect you. They'll never believe you. They'll call you a liar. They'll try to ruin our special relationship. You'll be sorry if you ever say a word.

I flash back to the first time that I remember Greg calling me his special girl. He convinced me I was doing nothing wrong; just showing my love for him.

Mom and Dad were out somewhere with Jared. Greg was babysitting me and we were playing hide-and-go-seek. He wasn't dating Amy yet and Sarah wasn't born.

Greg said he had some fun new rules that we should try; that when he found me, I had to do something to show I loved him. And when I found him, he would do something to show he loved me. I thought it was a great idea because I loved Greg with all my heart.

The first time I found him, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. I did the same thing when he found me. The next time, the kiss on the cheek progressed to a kiss on the mouth. After that, Greg said that he wanted me to kiss him on the stomach. The next time, the kiss was lower.

That's when I became his special girl. “Kitty Kat, do you know how special you are?” he asked me that day. “You're my special girl now. We share a secret. This is a secret you can't tell anybody, not even Jared. If you ever tell, people will be very mad at you, and you won't be special anymore. If you tell, you'll be a very bad girl.”

Tears rolled down my young, chubby cheeks at the thought of becoming a bad girl in Greg's eyes. He was the father figure that I always wished for.

Greg asked me if I understood, and I nodded my head so hard, I'm surprised I didn't kink my neck. Greg glowed with one of the special smiles he saved for me and told me that we should seal our secret together with another special kiss.

“Kat? Are you okay?” Detective Donaldson's voice snaps me back to the present. I stare at her absently, trying to clear my head of the memory. She hands me a tissue and leans back in her chair, as if she has all the time in the world.

When did I start crying?
I dab at my eyes and blow my nose.

The detective folds my free hand into her warm one and squeezes. That single touch of encouragement and the moisture in her eyes is the final catalyst that bursts the dam inside me.

The words gush forth so quickly, I barely remember to stop at times to take a breath. What seems like an endless supply of tissues is handed to me, without my even realizing where it's coming from. I dab, blow my nose, and talk some more…dab, blow my nose, and talk some more.

Detective Donaldson holds my right hand the whole time. Occasionally, she asks a question for clarification, but she mainly sits there and listens.

I talk about everything from the time I became Greg's special girl, to him dating Amy and my jealousy, to them getting married, and Amy winning me over. I tell her of all the things Greg would say and do to me, and the things he insisted I do to him.

Finally I come to this past school year and all the turmoil I've been in with Jared leaving for school, fights with Steph, fights with Sarah, and worrying about Greg touching Sarah. I talk about my fading relationship with my parents, my confusion over Scott and my botched attempt at dealing with Greg.

At last, the room is silent. I lean back in my chair completely spent. My thoughts are empty. I don't remember a time without some horrible memory floating through my head, tormenting me. It's as if everything has been swept clean with the gush of words that poured out of me. The building could have been on fire and I think I would've still sat in this chair and continued with my story.

My head is lighter, my shoulders aren't slouched. The knot in my stomach is gone, as if a heavy burden has been lifted. I've gone through an exorcism and Greg has been purged from my system.
Is this what it's like to feel free?

The detective's chair scrapes across the floor and she stands, bringing her finger to her lip while she thinks.

“We need to discuss a few things,” Detective Donaldson says. “But first, I have to say to hell with standard protocol for a moment.”

I'm engulfed in a warm hug before I have a chance to figure out what she means. Stunned, I'm not sure what to do, but then my arms wrap around her, seeking the comfort she's offering. I was right to trust her.

A sniffle from the corner of the room draws my attention to Officer Jackson blowing his nose. I had forgotten he was even there.

Detective Donaldson releases me and sits down again.

“Now,” she says rearranging the papers in front of her, “let's start by you calling me Mary. And Kat, I'm thrilled to meet such a brave survivor.” She smiles at me. “I can't imagine the things you've gone through, or how you're feeling, but the abuse ends now, and we are here to help you.”

I remain silent, eager to hear more. An inner glow starts to grow when I hear the word
survivor
. What a beautiful word.
I'm no longer a victim, I'm a survivor. I will fight this and I will survive.

“Let's talk about help first, before we get back to the legal side of things. We have information here on arranging for counselling and they will also be able to recommend support groups if you feel that's something you want.”

“I don't know…”

“Kat, don't decide right now. You probably feel like a ton of bricks has been lifted from you. Unfortunately, you aren't the first one to tell us a story like this. You've taken some major steps, but your healing will be a long process. You're going to need a lot of support over the next little while. This is going to be difficult, and once the shock of today fades, you may sometimes feel as if you have exchanged one burden for another.”

I nod. “I'll think about it.” I'd never really given a whole lot of thought to the fact that other survivors like me are out there. I always felt so lost and alone – so different and isolated from everyone else my age, except for Steph and Scott. I never thought about how I'd feel after talking to the police, either. Everything is suddenly very new.

“That's all I can ask, Kat. Now, let's talk about the legal side of this situation.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” My heart stops.
Was Greg right? Am I in trouble now?

Mary smiles and pats my hand. “Relax, Kat. You haven't done anything wrong. We will want to talk to your parents and ensure we have enough evidence for reasonable and probable grounds to make an arrest. With an arrest, we will be pressing criminal charges against Greg, meaning that unless Greg pleads guilty, this whole thing will go through the judicial system and possibly to trial. Cases like this sometimes get nasty with a lot of ‘he said/she said.' Greg will be presumed innocent, until proven guilty. It will be your word against his.”

Sweat beads form on my forehead. What will people say about me? How will my family and friends feel? The kids at school will look at me in the halls and they will know the disgusting things I did with Greg. Blood rushes to my head, pounding relentlessly, matching the beat of my heart.

“I…I don't think I can do that,” I whisper.

“I know it sounds frightening, but just think about how far you've come. He should be punished for what he did to you. You'll spend a very long time recovering from this, Kat, and he doesn't deserve to walk around free. Consider the fact that he may have done this to others, and there could be more victims in the future unless he is stopped.”

I've been concerned about Sarah and what might happen to her. What if there were others? Do I have the power to stop him?

Maybe I'm not brave enough to be a survivor after all.