Falsify Me

6- Frustration

Somehow among all of the terror, real life still goes on.

And when I come back to school, nobody fails to remind me of such.

How was my summer? You don't want to know. Oh it was fine. They, they, they all went on vacation. They, they all saw their friends and hung out. They...lived happy little summer lives.

So don't be angry at me when I don't listen to your foolish conversations at lunch, and instead stare ahead, unable to touch my lunch. Don't comment on my weight, how it looks as if I haven't eaten in weeks, which isn't far from the truth. Don't bother me because I am traveling in the midst of my memories. The ones that are hauntingly realistic, as if I was there at that exact moment all over again.

Yeah I hung out. Practically in chains by my family. And walking to the kitchen grimly, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I saw a police car driving up. I knew he was there for me. He wanted me to talk, to tell him my situation, see if he could help. 

And while I had done nothing wrong, I felt like the worst criminal in existence.

I remember going to the hospital. The police said I needed a test. I walk in and see the receptionist, a happy go-lucky smile sprawled on her wrinkly face. The kind of receptionist who speaks so loudly, the people in the chairs beside us could hear her every word.

"What can I do for you, young lady?"

"Umm..." I hesitate, it was hard. It was really hard to tell her what I needed, and I tried to be discreet. "I'm here to take the SANE test. The detective from the county said he needs my results." I say it all so hushed, but she can't seem to take the hint.

 Perhaps she didn't hear the second part, as she was already looking at the availability for a doctor, clicking away on her keyboard with short stubby fingers.

"A sane test you said? Strange, I've never heard of it!" People in the chairs are looking up from their magazines. They don't know what it is either, I'm glad they don't.

But I see her, instead of asking me, looking it up on the internet. How savvy, this receptionist, how professional.

I could have told her right there and then, if she had asked. 

But then I saw her find the answer she was looking for. Her eyes sunk, and she turned to me with a more serious face. She knew now. It wasn't all fun and games, was it? That look she gave me...I won't forget it.

I suddenly became a rare, exotic animal she had never seen or heard of before. Since SANE stands for Sexual Assault Nurses Exam, now I am a rape victim! I need a rape test!

And my anger and frustration at her gaze brought me to actually chastise her. Not just in my head, not fury kept inside- I actually lashed out at her.

"Yeah! It's the rape exam. Want to tell all of the people waiting here?" I ask, and they all look at me. I am talking loud enough, they were all listening anyway. They pretend to look back down and focus on the wedding dresses and women in swimsuits, but enough has been enough.

That wasn't the most frustrating part of my visit to the hospital. For one, apparently no one in the county was qualified to give the exam. Neither was anyone in the surrounding counties. I would have to travel about three hours. So it goes.

Next, the officer I spoke to told me to take it at THIS hospital. I guess he didn't know the rules of the exam, huh? Also, I guess he didn't know how rape exams work in general. It had been six weeks since my repetitive assaults, and that was far too long. TOO LONG.

That was too hard for them to all comprehend, too much knowledge, too much smerts. They couldn't wrap their heads around it!

The same officer- let me hate on him for a moment- made a pretty big mistake later on as well.

Take a look at this then: the forensic interview allowed me to talk to another female, who could appropriately ask me questions about my assault and the police officers could hear the recording transmitted in the next room. That's how that works.

For legal reasons, a minor like myself cannot talk to police officers about sex. But that couldn't be understood by this "trained" officer either. He didn't get it.

Suddenly it was okay for him to call me on the phone and ask me personal questions. Questions that involved my SEXUAL assault case. 

And...questions whose answers, once overheard by my mother, resulted in...beatings and harsher words than I ever wanted to hear. Good thing mother wasn't there for the forensic interview. Good thing I will never tell her the entire story.

But stupid officer. Stupid receptionist, who had never met a rare specimen known as a rape victim. Stupid counties that didn't have enough cases to certify a doctor to give the SANE exam.

Stupid me for becoming frustrated with all of this nonsense, even so many months later. 

A/N WOW I AM SO DEEPLY SORRY this became a total rant fest soooo fast. Still in disbelieve that I had to go through this when rape happens all the time. Like, come on small town people, time to catch up on real problems. But whatever, whatever, whatever. I'll post it because it's all trash anyway ;D 

Also, i'm on a role you guys. Like three chapters in a day, newwww record! Way to go sad nights all alone all depressed all dead inside!!! :D

Wattpad is just gonna kick me out for being such a bummer. LIke whatever, it's late right? Either I write it out, or I stay up all night thinking a bout it right? no no noo ono, you're like 'get therapy lady, you're making me sad' I will, not. I will not. GET OVER IT OKAY, NO ONE ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION BUT ITS AN IMPORTANT OPINION YOUR OPINION IS ALWAYS IMPORTANT. is this wat being drunk feels like. i haven't slept in so many minutes. Sooooo many. I can't believe i'm still wirting. If i'm smert, I'll come back and delete this so the whole two people reading this don't think i'm a psycho. but wHO SAID I WAS SMERT????!