Chapter 2
I called out sick the next day.
After that whole ordeal, I needed a day to be with myself. I took seven showers, screamed and punched pillows more times than I'd care to admit, watched way too much reality TV, and ate a whole carton of ice cream.
But I could still feel his hands on me.
It took two weeks for the nightmares to stop. And it took a month before I dared to go on the motorway again. I still didn't speed. Not even a little.
I wanted so badly to report the incident. Two days after it had happened, I managed to get some contact numbers in case I decided to man up and say something. I got the number of the Chief of Police of London on a sticky note, which was displayed on my refrigerator, just in case. I didn't know if I'd actually call the Chief, because Officer Scott did have my immigration status to hold against me, but there had to be some way to report him.
He... he violated me.
He touched me without my permission.
That's a serious offense.
It was so fucked up that if I reported a sexual assault, I'd be the one to get in trouble and be deported. I bet that Officer Scott would just walk away with a slap on the wrist. What a shitty situation. Part of me was furious about how it had worked out, but the other part was afraid.
Afraid that it would happen again.
But I couldn't stop my life because of the one incident. So I had to push aside the disgusting feeling inside of me, the paranoia every time I left the house, and the fear of the badge and get over it.
It was like eleven at night, and I was finally heading home. I had gone out for drinks my coworker Sophia, but I was extra careful. I only had a coke. I made sure of it. I also only took back roads on my way home. There was less of a chance of speeding on back roads, and also less of a chance of running into a cop. And even though there was no one around to see me, I still pulled over on the side of the road when my phone rang, just in case. I checked the caller I.D, but quickly declined the call.
It was my mother.
Like hell I'd be answering that.
I'd rather have another run-in with Officer Scott than speak to my mother again.
It looked like the universe had it out for me that day. No sooner did I think those words did a cop car pull to the side of the road behind me. I felt my whole body tremble at the memory of my last time with a police officer. It couldn't be the same one though. What were the chances of that? Right?
With that reassuring thought, I stepped out of the car. Apparently that was common etiquette in England. Back in the states, you would never leave your car unless asked by the cops. I rested against my driver's door as I waited for an officer to approach me.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
There was no reason to worry.
They were probably just checking to make sure I was alright.
In the dark, I couldn't see who stepped out of the police car, but I heard the door slam and I heard feet shuffling towards me. I looked up again when the officer was close enough, and I almost ran for it.
Officer Scott.
I stiffened and immediately gripped the edge of my car, as if holding on to it would keep me safe. Thank the fucking lord I had worn pants that day. I braced myself as he approached me; that stupid smirk already on his lips.
"Well, well, Miss Redwood, was it?" I nodded at his question numbly. It had been two months since the incident, and he remembered my name. That was a red flag.
A giant fucking red flag.
"I'm going to need to see some form of I.D," he rested his hand on the metal frame of my car, just above my shoulder. I slid away from him nervously. "Like an expired Visa, perhaps." I pulled out my I.D from my bag, and my expired Visa, and handed it to him. He didn't even look it over before it was being handed back to me.
"Summer Redwood." He looked me over, pronouncing each facet of my name carefully in his stupid accent. I've always hated my name, but I hated it even more coming from his lips. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"What? You didn't-"
"One of your headlights is out." He informed me. I should've just let it go, but I was already angry enough at him. And then he started making false accusations? I wouldn't let him mess around with me... not again.
"First of all, you didn't pull me over, jerk. I was already pulled over. And second of all, both of my headlights are fine." I snapped. To prove my point, I reached inside my car and flicked on my lights. Just as I expected, both headlights flooded the space in front of us. Neither were broken.
"Oooh, feisty. But you see, I'm going to need a second opinion. MARCUS!" Officer Scott chucked his ticket pad at his cop car. It hit the windshield with a thud, but did as was intended and got the attention of his partner. The passenger side door opened and I could vaguely make out a tall figure approaching us in the dark. He wasn't as tall as Officer Scott, but he was more muscular.
"What the hell?" He hissed at Officer Scott. The man was just as young as his partner, too. Although, he wasn't clean shaven and his hair was hidden completely under his hat.
"Just need you to double check that Miss Redwood's headlight is indeed out." The other officer walked to the front of my car.
"Mate, it looks fine." Officer Scott walked away from me for a moment to join his partner at the hood of my car. Before I could stop him, Officer Scott lifted up his boot and sent a forceful kick right through my headlight. I let out a shriek at the loud crashing sound, but covered my mouth quickly.
"How about now?"
The other officer pushed down his sunglasses- it was nighttime, why the hell was he wearing sunglasses?- and looked at my lights speculatively. Had he just seen Officer Scott break my car? Thank god there was another witness so I didn't feel like a crazy person.
"Oh yeah," he mused, "I guess you're right. Her headlight is out." He nodded. He scratched at his stubble for a moment before glancing at me apologetically over his aviator sunglasses. Then, he pushed them back up his nose and wandered back over to his car.
"What the frick?" I demanded, circling around to see the damage.
"Your headlight is out, Miss Redwood. You're going to want to get that fixed." Officer Scott grinned maliciously at me. I let out a shaky sigh and backed away from him drastically.
"Please, just leave me alone." I begged. The gravel crunched under his feet with every step he took towards me. I played his game and mirrored his steps forward with steps back. Of course, my steps were a lot smaller than his large ones because while he had large, lanky legs, I had significantly smaller ones.
"Are you going to make me?" He challenged.
"I-I'll call the Chief of Police." I threatened. He raised his eyebrows at me in amusement. I didn't understand why he found my warning so funny, I was dead serious. I had the Chief of Police of London's number on my fridge and I wasn't afraid to use it.
"Call him." Officer Scott dared with that notorious smirk, "and tell him that Caleb says hello."
"Fuck you." I snarled angrily. I never cursed. Never. IF I ever did curse, that familiar taste of soap would fill my mouth. Even if my mother wasn't there to force soap down my throat, she had instilled such an obsessive adherence to cursing in me, that I rarely did it.
And just as I thought, as soon as I spoke the bitter word, that disgusting taste filled my mouth. But I couldn't help it. He wasn't even taking my threat seriously. No one had ever made me feel as incompetent, and small, and worthless, and insubstantial as Officer Scott did. And he clearly had ties to people in high up places. My threat to call his boss did nothing to even cause him to falter. He didn't even think twice about it. It was as if he was completely untouchable.
"Are you offering?" He leaned towards me. I crossed my arms over my chest with an angry huff.
"You're such an-"
"Pull up you shirt." His husky voice interrupted me. My eyes fluttered in surprise at his abrupt request and I was suddenly at loss for words.
"What.... N-no!" I shook my head to further convey my point. Officer Scott loomed over me and tsked.
"Now, now, Summer." He patronized. I noticed for the first time, he used my first name while addressing me. I hated my name. I despised it so much that I used to get in trouble at school for beating up kids who called me by my first name. In fact, I broke Bobby Flander's leg when he wrote Summer in sharper on the gym mats. Can you guess why my name is Summer? If you guessed that I was born in the summer time, then yes, you'd be correct. "You wouldn't want to aggravate me... I might do something that I regret- like go the feds with the status of your Visa."
"You can't just..." I ran my hand through my hair and gripped my roots slightly. It was all so frustrating and terrifying. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation.
"Either you flash me, or I turn you in. Your choice, love." He crossed his arms over his chest, making his bicep muscles bulge even more than they already did. I didn't know if it was subconsciously, or if he was purposefully trying to intimidate me. Probably the latter one.
"I'm not going to let you take advantage of me." I said with determination. Too bad my voice gave away my fear and wavered at the end of the sentence. A predatory look crossed the police officer's features and I found myself trembling even more so than before.
Suddenly, my wrists were seized in one of his large hands. I was thrown back painfully against my car, and my arms were thrust over my head. With his free hand, he grabbed the hem of my shirt. I tried to kick him, but he pressed his leg over my own so that I was rendered completely immobile.
I let out a loud scream hoping the other officer would hear me. I turned to see if help was coming, but in the darkness I could barely see the police car. I never heard the car door open, or the approach of other footsteps, so I knew that Officer Scott' partner couldn't care less about what was happening to me.
"Go on. Scream." The green-eyed monster hissed at me. His eyes flashed with either delight or lust as I struggled in vain, fear clearly evident in my face. My shirt was pulled up to my shoulders, so my abdomen and bra were on display for him. I fought even harder. Luckily, he didn't have a free hand, so my bra remained on. I wondered if he could see the scars on my torso from eighteen years of abuse. My guess was no, not in the darkness.
Just a few seconds later, I was released. I was quick to pull my shirt down and send a glare up at him.
"You're despicable." I lifted my knee up to hit him where it hurts, but he seemed to be expecting that move. His freakishly large hand jutted out and caught my knee before I could hit my intended target.
"Oh come on, Summer. Don't make me write you up for assaulting an officer."
There it was again. Summer. My parents had thought it was a beautiful name for their only child. Well, screw them. Who the fuck names their kid after a season? People high off their asses, that's who.
"If anyone here should be convicted of assault, it's you."
"Alright, alright. I'll let you go. Just stay put for a second." He jogged towards his car. I contemplated hopping in my own car and speeding off before he came back, but I didn't make a decision before he was standing right in front of me again.
Handing me a motherfricking ticket.
"You're kidding me."
"Your headlight's out. Take it in to the shop in the morning. Safety hazard." I wanted to scream and shout and hit and punch and kick the jerk, but I decided that it'd be best to just take the ticket, pay it, and hopefully never run into him again. I snatched the little piece of paper and immediately climbed inside my car, locking the doors the second they were shut. I could make out his lanky figure trudging back over to his car, and I waited until he pulled back into the street and drove off before I drove away.
As soon as I got back home, I went to my refrigerator and pulled the sticky note off of it. The numbers were dialed quickly and the phone was pressed into my ear.
"Hello, Chief of London Police Department's office. This is Sandy speaking." A young, feminine voice answered after the second ring.
"I'd like to speak to the Chief of Police." I said as clearly as I could.
"Is there a matter I can take a message for or transfer you to someone else?"
"No, I need to speak to the Chief himself. It's very important." I insisted. Something like a police officer sexually assaulting someone, TWICE, had to go straight to the head honcho. I didn't want to be handled by some mindless paper pushed who could easily be paid off by officer Scott.
"Well, the Chief is busy at the moment. I can make an appointment for you and then you could see Chief Scott in person." She suggested, trying to be helpful.
"Wait... Chief Scott?" I coughed.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Shoot." I cursed into the phone loudly. "Never mind." I quickly hung up and threw my phone onto my couch. No wonder Officer Scott had seemed so at ease before. The fricking Chief of Police was related to him.
There really was no way out for me.
I was in deep trouble.