“Rachel needs to go to the guidance office.” The loud speaker filled my first period class room. I looked over at my teacher and she gave me a weak smile, because I told her what was going on with the situation with Mr. Parker and how I went to him crying, telling him everything, raging from cutting, what my home life was like when my parents were told that I was molested by my brother. They couldn’t face the fact that I was hurting and I didn’t mean to ruin the perfect frame on a perfect son. They didn’t listen and there I was pouring my life out like a bad thunderstorm.

I collected my things and headed to Mrs. Wilson’s office. I took a deep breath and I walked into her room. There was a man standing there wearing a white dress shirt and slacks with reddish blond hair and glasses that reminded me of a teacher that I had in middle school.
“Hi, Rebekah, my name is Detective Robin, and I am here to talk to you about the information you shared with a teacher, Mr. Parker and your guidance counselor, Mrs. Wilson.”

“I know this will be difficult to share again, but I need to record this on a recorder for your case. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” My legs were shaking and my throat was dry.

“I’m not going to start it now. I’m going to show a few pictures.” He opened his file and passed the first piece of paper to me. “Are these your parents?”

My heart started to beat fast. “Yes they are,”

“Is this your brother who sexually abused you?” I nodded my head. I couldn’t speak. Seeing him there in a detective’s hand freaked me out.

“Okay, umm, how old are you?”

“Seventeen,”

“So you know the difference between a lie and telling the truth, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” I stole a glance at Mrs. Wilson; she nodded her head in reassurance.

“So, if I say that this wall behind me is blue, would that be a lie?”

“Yeah, because it is tan,”

“Okay, I know that you might be nervous but everything will be fine. Are you ready to start?” I nodded my head. “I’m going to turn on the recorder now.” I watched him as he placed the recorder on Mrs. Wilson’s desk. He said the case number and my name. He turned towards me. Here we go the torture of reliving it.

“Rachel, do you know what private parts are?”

“Yeah,”

“Can you tell m what they are?”
“Umm…Penis, Breasts and Vagina, butt.” I could feel my cheeks as they were starting to burn with embarrassment.
“You could use the words that you feel comfortable with.”
“Penis, butt, boobs and k******.” I kept my stare on the corner of Mrs. Wilson’s desk.

“Did your brother ever touch you?”

“Yes,” My throat was starting to get even dryer.

“Do you mind if I ask you where?”

I shook my head. I whispered, “My butt.”

The detective nodded his head as he wrote it down. “Do you remember a time he touch you?”

“Yes,”

“Can you tell me?”

“Umm…My parents were gone and I was about seven or so and our older sister, Heather was watching us. I was in his and my other brother’s room. Paul made a fort out of the bunk bed with a blue and white sheep blanket. We were inside the fort and Joe was just a few feet away playing with Paul’s play station 2. Heather would check up on us to see if we were doing okay but one time she came and I was trying to poke my head out of the fort so she could see me but Paul held me back. He put his hand on my shoulder and he kept me on my hands and knees. My shorts were pulled down and he was do I have to say what he was doing?” I looked at the Detective then at Mrs. Wilson. They both nodded.

“It is okay,” Mrs. Wilson said, as she squeezed my hand.

“He was in me, anally.” I was trying to hold back my tears.

“Did he ever tell you not to say anything about this to anyone?” He asked.

“No, I mean I thought that it was normal. I thought that everybody goes through this. I knew it was wrong but I never told anyone what happened.”

I was in that office for two hours telling them everything I remembered.

“Okay,” He finally said before we left the office, “I’m going to get a hold of your mom and talk to her. Is she home today?” I nodded my head. “You know that if you feel like you are in danger call 911 or me and I will come and get you. How are you feeling?”

“Scared.”

What did I do?
The whole entire day, I didn’t do any work. I kept my mind on my mom and my dad and wondering if they were going to kill me.

I got off the bus and walked into the house. Mom was sitting at the table. She didn’t even look at me. Her eyes were all red and puffy.

I don’t even remember what happened next.

My dad called me. Saying stuff like that I ruin everybody’s happiness and how everything had to be about me and told me that mom is going to raid my room and if she found my writings she was to read them and burn them. If she found pot in my room they were going to send me to rehab. He kicked me out but he said that I couldn’t live with my boyfriend, if I went there they were going to call the police and have him arrested for kidnapping (my boyfriend was eighteen at the time.) Later, I realized that you can’t kick someone out and tell them not to go to a certain place.