The Visit to the Police

Was every bit as humiliating as everyone tells you it will be. I had to tell the same story to three different people as different people came into the room. They gave the name of an investigator for me to call the next day. Given that the guy has confessed twice already, once to me, and once to me and another person, they wanted to know if I'd try to get him to do it one more time. You know, this time on memorex. I said no problem but that I thought he'd left town because stupidly, I told him to. I was just so... angry. They were completely dismissive of his efforts to burn my house down, so far they haven't even come to take the gas can into evidence. Then I went to do a rape kit which everyone knew would be fruitless since I was four days out, and to explain to yet a second group of people what had happened, and why I was so stupid as to wait four days etc ad nauseum. There was not, as they frequently show on tv, any supportive rape crisis counselor or any other individual of that nature there to say, hey, it's ok, you're going to be ok, or anything of that nature. My friend tried to come in the room at least, to be with me, but she was told that nobody is allowed to enter once they start collecting evidence. Just the nurse who does the kit. It takes a good amount of time by the way, about forty-five minutes, just to get the basic kit done.

Then I went home and sat. I called the police a couple times. I found out that the guy who assaulted me had gone to rehab. That seems to be a theme this year, people committng crimes then going to rehab like that has anything to do with it.

I sat in my house and contrary to the popular wisdom, still did not bathe. I stopped taking all of my medicine. I'd changed because you give your clothes up when you do the rape kit. They gave me scrubs to wear home. I sat in my house with three loaded guns for so long that my skin finally started to degrade, like some old person with decubitus. I reached down one day to rub my leg, and a large patch of my skin several layers thick came off in my fingers due to the deterioration of my skin. In fact, I'm still struggling on antibiotics with the resulting ulcer.

I finally showered. At one point I had dropped one of my shotguns on my foot and it became hugely swollen for a while.

Then Dylan came home. I began to be able to at least leave the house, although after buying the locks - which I considered critical, it took me almost three or four weeks to leave alone again. My friend Valerie helped a lot. Pretty much, I just lost my mind. The detective on the case turned out to be not such a bad guy after all. I think they are just the way they are at first to weigh your story, see if you are being straight with them. I kind of understand, but on the other hand - I don't know. There was just nothing there for me. I called, even before I reported, the rape crisis center in Huntsville. It wasn't that helpful. Nothing I hadn't already said to people on the other end of crisis hotlines 18 million times before. I actually made an appointment to go for an intake in Huntsville (the closest city that even has a rape crisis center) but the lady there sounded so completely incompetent that I lost it with her and asked her if she was absolutely certain she was in charge. I couldn't imagine anyone as stupid as she sounded having anything helpful to say to me.

So the detective tells me they'll indict next grand jury. In like six or seven weeks. It would be great if I got a taped confession first. I think those odds are slim now. The guy who attacked me has wised up a lot in rehab. His "friends" have been advising him. He also now has a vehicle which means I never know if he's watching my house.

But anyway, it will be hellish. Although, as the police tell me, I am a super neato clean citizen who has never been arrested and the guy who assaulted me has been arrested for everything in the world and is a known drug addict. Also, there is talk of former rape victims. They are trying to flesh that part out now. I'm just apparently the first victim who came forward. I have leads on who some of the others might be. He must have been more afraid of me because he out and out attacked and was violent with the others and took it to completion. All in all, I was lucky. But I am so angry. And I just can't get rid of it. At the same time, I cry all the time. But really, I have no idea why.