DANI
"Hey, you good?" I asked Mickie as she fidgeted next to me in the police station.
"Yeah, just a bit nervous." She tells me, flashing me a tight-lipped smile.
I reach over and grab her hand, "I'm nervous too, Mick."
She breathes out deeply, "I just- What happens if they don't press charges?"
I pause before saying, "We look after each other."
Sitting at the police station for the last thirty minutes felt like torture. Neither of us had any clue what we were about to be told. Maybe this meeting was all about how there wasn't enough evidence, and the DA decided not to prosecute Clint. Or maybe - and this was the more frightening reality - they were going to file charges against him.
I had been conditioned into expecting the least from those who held power. No one had done anything for me before, so why would this be different. That's why it was more frightening that something might actually be done, that Clint would have to pay the consequences for his actions. It was the unknown.
But Mickie was right to be nervous. Clint knew that we had reported him. He has spoken to the police, and soon would be fully interrogated. Everything was out in the open, so he had nothing to hide behind. He could retaliate, and then we might be dealing something much worse.
That was one of the things about the justice system. We had to wait until something happened to get justice, but when the system is already broken and untrustworthy it creates a culture of unwillingness to come forward. So instead of the abuse stopping with me, it spread to Mickie, and quite possibly many more. That trust had never been there between me, a kid in the foster system who had known nothing but abuse and abandonment, and those in charge. They had failed me, and countless others, by allowing the system to be what it is in the first place.
I had dealt a lot with the guilt I felt for never speaking up. I still somewhat believed that this was all partly my fault. I could've been braver, louder, but I had been trained to stay quiet and accept my fate. Once that had been instilled in me by my parents it had been reinforced at every home I was placed in. The case workers and people who worked for child services tried, I know they did, but when the state failed them, how could they possibly help us?
It always starts at the top. If those in power are rotten, then it will fester to the ground level. In all reality, law makers do not care about the average person. Most are career politicians, and those who do enter the job trying to change the way things are done - help the people - they themselves tend to lose sight in why they ran for the position in the first place.
Greed, power, ego. They go hand in hand in hand, and unfortunately our society was built on it. The framework of America itself is based on those three things. It might have started with decent intentions - minus a few glaring oversights - but even the best intentions could turn rotten.
So how could I have stopped any of this when nothing, and I mean nothing, had given me the tools to do so? And even someone like Mickie, who had done everything right, came from a good family, was upper middle class, worked hard and got good grades, was failed by the system.
I could help where I could. I could provide a safe place for kids, teenagers, and young adults to talk about what they've been through. I know firsthand how hard it is to trust that person, but I also know how much it helped me. Therapy had saved my life. It was the first place I felt like I could speak, that what I had to say mattered. That I mattered. Which led me to trust Darla and the others. I wanted to provide that for kids who were in my position, and maybe I could change the outcome for individuals. So instead of becoming a statistic, they could overcome the system, because it didn't look like the system was changing anytime soon.
"Mickie, Dani, you can follow me." Detective Reed waved us through the main doors to the meeting rooms.
I had been in several of these types of rooms, and although they weren't interrogation rooms, they still carried the sense of police entitlement. They were in charge and you were being judged. As nice and helpful Detective Reed had been through the beginning of the investigation, everything could change in a matter of seconds. Everything could be flipped to us, like we were the criminals instead of the victims.
"Have a seat. Do either of you want any water?" She asks.
"No, thank you." I say as Mickie gets out her own water bottle.
"Okay, well we have a few things to go over." She begins, "We have talked to numerous people from both of your stories, and had begun a small investigation at his old high school and college to see if we could find anymore victims. So far we have tracked down one girl after hearing some things. She's very reluctant to come forward, but there is a chance."
"How?" I ask.
Detective Reed looks directly at me, and furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"
"How are you talking to her?" I rephrase my question, "If she's not ready, we can't force her into this."
"Yes, I know-"
"I want to make it clear that we don't want to pressure anyone to come forward. This could be incredibly traumatic and detrimental to someone's health." I press on.
She smiles kindly at me, "You're going to school to school to be a therapist?"
I purse my lips, "Yes. Child psychology will be my main focus in graduate school."
"You'll be good at it." She says, "I can promise you, Dani, that we will not, nor can we, force any person to testify against Clint. We will continue to stay in contact with her, but there will be no pressuring of any kind. She did ask about you two, though."
"Us?" Mickie asked nervously.
"I think that's our in. It'll help that two of you are already testifying. It calms victims down to know they won't have to do it alone."
I nodded my head, understanding that feeling completely. Alone is a feeling I am quite familiar with, and although it pains me that someone had to go through what I did in any capacity, it was nice to be with someone. That's how abusers keep their victims in line, why women stay with their husbands or boyfriends who attack them either physically or verbally. They make them feel as if they have no one but them. They are the only ones who actually care about the abused.
Clint led me into false security before ever touching me, making me feel like I was wanted for the first time in my life. It was probably easy for him, seeing as I was already alone and vulnerable. He didn't have to do the work to get me wrapped up in his thorns.
I wonder what the girl's story is. If it was more like Mickie's or mine, or maybe somewhere in-between. At the same time, I didn't want there to be anyone else. I was barely holding the guilt away as it was. Sitting in a court, listening to other girl's testimonials...
I cleared my throat, and sat up straighter, "So does this mean that the DA is going to prosecute?"
"We haven't got the hundred percent yes, because there are a few more things we've got to do, but I'm going to be honest with you girls." Detective Reed pauses before saying, "I would be surprised if we didn't press charges. If this is as big as we're starting to believe, then it could be some major jail time for him. But that also means that we'll go to trial-"
"But we might not have to, right?" Mickie asks, "I know it's only tv and stuff, but sometimes things get settled out of court?"
The detective takes a sip of water before answering, "We'll go to trial no matter what, but there's varying degrees of having you two testify. If he pleads guilty, then it's much easier, and we might not need either of you unless you chose to have a last word type of thing. Like the Larry Nassar case?"
I nod, remembering the hearings quite well when the women he abused were able to directly speak to him in court. "But if he pleads not guilty...?" I ask.
"Which is much more likely." She says, "Most serial assaulters like him will fight until the bitter end, because they know there's always a chance to get off even with proper evidence. That's when we'll need you two. We'll sit you down with the lawyers, and talk you through our questions. Then we'll focus on prepping you for the defense. I'm going to warn you, this will be very difficult. They will do everything in their power to get you to mess up, so we need to get your stories completely straight."
Mickie sighs, "Okay, but we don't know if we're doing any of that, yet?"
"No, we probably won't know for another two weeks if we are officially pressing charges. Then we'll go into talks with him and his lawyer, and then we'll know if we are going to court. It could be a few months before you testify at all depending on how long it takes to get a court date." She explains.
"Will he be in jail the entire time?" I ask.
"Most likely his parents will post bail, but he will have strict orders to stay away from you two, as well as any of his family or friends. I don't want you two to be worried about your safety. We have your backs, I promise."
I swallow down the nerves that have become ravenous in my stomach, threatening to come up my throat, and say, "So we should just live our lives as normal? Go back to school and graduate?"
She nods, "Yes, that's all you really can do. We, of course, ask you not to talk to any press until we get you a lawyer. They will set up any interviews if you wish to do so."
Mickie's eyes widen, "Is that expected of us? Do we have to do that?"
I reach over and grab her hand, "Mick, calm down. We don't have to do anything we don't want to. She's just warning us that when this gets out there might be some reporters trying to get a scoop."
"I don't want to be in the news." She shakes her head.
"It's okay." Detective Reed jumps in, "I completely understand. It's up to you to speak to anyone, and this won't even become public until we officially arrest Clint, so it's nothing to stress about right now."
She nods reluctantly, and I get why she's so panicky about it. Talking to the papers would be a lot. They would want the whole story, and then it's up for anyone to judge. Your name and face will be out in the public, and there would be nothing either of us could do about their opinions.
"Is that all for today?" I ask Detective Reed.
Nodding, she says, "Yes, thank you for coming in, and I'll keep you two posted on anything new."
Leaving the station felt like a breath of fresh air. Relief spread through me, the suffocating feeling of inside finally dispersing. Mickie seemed more shaken up then me, and I spent a few minutes talking to her, but I had an appointment with my old therapist that I had to go to.
"I've got to head out, Mick. You still coming over for dinner tomorrow night?" I ask.
She exhales a deep breath, "Yeah, something normal is what I need right now. Your place or Harry's?"
"Mine. My roommates will be there too." I tell her.
She nods and waves goodbye, leaving me to walk to my old car alone. School was set to start next week, and it felt weird to be doing something so normal. It would be my last term before graduate school, my last with my friends who would all be graduating and hopefully starting jobs this summer. Our lease would be up, so we would have to move out. Everything was changing in a few months, but dealing with this whole Clint thing was taking up so much of my brain that I hadn't thought much about it yet.
I was suddenly very grateful that I had scheduled this session today, feeling like I needed to let stuff out. I was much better than I used to be, but I still sometimes held shit in that I shouldn't. It was easy now that I had Harry, but I also didn't want to lean on him too much. I didn't want him taking in all of my pain.
†††
"Here's a card for a friend of mine who takes on adult patients. I've known her for years, and I highly recommend her." My old therapist, Sarah, tells me.
"Okay, thanks for everything, Sarah. You have no idea how much you've helped me."
She smiles warmly, "Dani, you did that all yourself. You just needed to trust one person, and I was glad I could be that person for you, but now it sounds like you've got a whole lot of trust in your life."
"Yeah, I do." I say, "But I still can't thank you enough. You were patient with me when so many others weren't."
"It was truly my pleasure. Now give my friend a call, and tell her I sent you. I know this is a hard time for you, right now, so please don't push off getting the help you might need."
"Yeah, of course. Thanks again." I say one more time, leaving her for the last time.
As I shut the door, it's like I'm literally shutting the door on a whole chapter of my life. Considering what I've done today, I feel much lighter than I really should. That was a testament to how helpful and important therapy was. The way Sarah had been there for me, listening without leading the conversation, was how I wanted to model my style after.
Eventually, I would be the one speaking to children about their traumas, kids and teens who didn't want to be there with me. I would somehow have to gain their trust, and even though I was them at some point, it was still going to be difficult. Everyone's experiences and reactions are different. You can't weigh someone's actions against another and expect the same result. Humans were complicated and messy, and part of why we were all in this mess to begin with was a lack of understanding and compassion. It was hard for the best of us.
Once I was in graduate school, I would be partaking in a lot more hands-on work. I would hopefully get a few internships, and make some connections with the right people, so I could start right out of school. I still had to get my doctorate so it wasn't like that would be soon, but I still had to start planning for the future.
The future.
That sounded so foreign. The future was something that seemed so far off as a child. Dark and unknown, not expecting much, because the present hadn't been particularly kind. Now it was staring me straight in the face, so close I could almost reach it.
And I wasn't alone. I had friends, and a makeshift family. I had Harry. I also had his family. His oldest sister Ginny had reached out to me, and had lunch the other day. She was a weird mixture of her dad and Harry. She had that bold, carefree nature, yet also exuded authority with a dash of stubbornness. How their father hadn't immediately gravitated towards her as his eventual heir was crazy to me, because she seemed absolutely perfect for the role. I think she'll bring in a little more humanity into their family business while also being a badass.
Harry and I attended one of his younger sisters soccer games, and I saw for the first time why she was all-American. She was incredible, clearly elevating the team, and I think we even spotted a few college scouts, although she was pretty young.
I guess they would all be my family one day. Harry and I were set in stone, our friends joking that we were already engaged.
When I got to his house, I let myself in. I could hear Harry upstairs, fiddling around on his guitar. I had gotten accustomed to hearing him writing songs while I was here. His roommate was still off with his parents, so he didn't feel the need to hide his talents away.
Instead of heading straight up, I went to the kitchen to get a drink. I grabbed a cold beer for Harry, knowing we both had the night free to do whatever we wanted. I checked my phone really quick, answering a text from Darla about coming over for dinner soon, and then climbed the stairs to his room.
The door was open, and I found myself leaning against the frame and watching Harry play. He didn't even notice me, so enticed by whatever lyrics he was writing down.
I hear him mumble out in a specific rhythm, "Rest it on your fingertips... Up to your mouth, feeling it out... Feeling-"
He stops abruptly, crossing something out, and writing quickly. He then sets his pencil down, and starts to play his guitar slowly, this time singing along, "Rest it on your fingertips... Up to your mouth, feeling it out... Feeling it out... I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted... And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you... tasted."
"How salacious." I interrupt.
His head whips up, a grin forming on his face when he sees me. Shrugging, he says, "Not sure I'm gonna keep the tasted. Might leave it hanging, so you're anticipating it but never get it."
I hum, "It sounds good so far. Can't wait to hear it."
He sets his guitar down, and heads over to me. Kissing me first, he takes his beer out of my hand, and asks, "Want to hang out downstairs? Watch a few movies and order takeout?"
"Ooh, that sounds like a perfect night."
Once we were downstairs, flipping through netflix, Harry asks, "How did today go?"
Pulling a blanket over our bodies, I say, "Good. Apparenly, they found another girl, but she's hesitant to come forward. They're still looking for more, so we'll see. It sounds like there will be charges no matter what, though."
"That's good."
I nod, "Yeah, it's just the beginning of a whole lot of shit, you know?"
"Yeah." He rests his arm on the couch behind me, fingers playing with the ends of my hair. "How about your appointment?"
I smiled, "Really good. It was my last one ever with Sarah. She recommended someone else, so hopefully my next therapist will fit."
"Was it a little bittersweet?" He asks.
"It really was. Like I'm so happy to be moving forward with my life, but she is one of the only reasons I'm even here right now. I'm not sure if I'll ever see her again." I sigh, resting my head on his shoulder.
Harry doesn't say anything after that, kissing the top of my head, silence spreading around us in the most comfortable way. We watch a movie, drinking and cuddling. Eventually we decide to order, cracking open another beer. While we were eating, laughing about how the delivery boy was ogling at my cleavage, Harry surprised me.
"Your lease is up at the end of June, right?"
I nod, "Yeah."
"Mine is up at the beginning of August..." He starts slowly.
I keep my smile back. "Okay..."
"Conner and I weren't going to renew, so I was thinking that maybe we could... you know."
I smirk, "Harry, are you asking me to move in with you?"
"I mean, it's not like we don't spend every night together, and half of my stuff is at yours and half of your stuff is here-" He stammers out.
"Harry, calm down." I laugh, "Of course I'll move in with you."
He blinks, "Really?"
Rolling my eyes, I say, "Are you really that surprised?"
He grins, "I didn't want to assume."
"Okay, well, I've got a question for you now." I maneuver around on the couch, so I am facing him, legs crossed and takeout box in my lap.
"Go for it."
"This might sound a little weird, and I promise I'm not trying to hint at anything or pressure you-"
"Okay, you're scaring me." Harry sits up a little straighter.
I clear my throat, realizing suddenly how awkward this conversation should go, especially right after our last one. I don't even know what I was thinking when I started. "Well, I was wondering about... I guess, how you feel about kids?"
He doesn't answer right away, but eventually says slowly, "I mean, I like them."
I nod, "And did you ever think of having any? You know, in the future. The way future."
An amused expression starts to form on his face, "Well, how far in the future?"
I give him a look, "I don't know. After I'm done with schooling, and we get a house or something."
"What kind of house? White picket fence? Pool in the backyard?" He teases.
"Harry-"
"Actually, on second thought, the pool might be a little dangerous for the little ones." He says casually. "What are you thinking? Three bedrooms or four bedrooms?"
"Are you done?" I ask him, trying to suppress my smile.
He smirks, "Maybe."
"So I guess that's a yes for kids." I say.
"I definitely want kids. I don't care if we have a big family or just one, though. Any family is perfect for me with you." He says, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"I didn't think I would ever want one." I admit, "Not until recently."
"C'mere," he moves the food off my lap, tugging me on top of him so I'm straddling his lap, "I promise you, Dani, that I will be the best father to our kids, however many there are. I will never put them down, hurt them, hit them, anything like that. I promise that there will only ever be love in our home."
My hand raises to cup his jaw, "I promise that, too."
Harry smiles, "Darling, you don't need to. I already know you're going to be the best mom ever. You're going to blow the other PTA moms out of the water."
I scoff, "PTA moms can suck my ass. I'll be a great soccer mom, though. I want to be so busy, I go grey prematurely."
Harry laughs, "You'd still be hot as fuck."
"I bet you're going to be like a silver fox." I tease, "Kind of can't wait."
"Me either." He murmurs, leaning in and grazing his lips against mine, "The future sounds fucking perfect."
I nod, closing the gap between us. Our embrace is slow, but needy, like we need to show each other all the words we just spoke were true. My hands grasped his face, while his slip under my shirt to feel up the bare skin of my back. We ignore the climax of the movie playing on the TV, instead focusing solely on the feeling spreading through us.
I don't know how long it takes us to separate, breathing hard to catch our breath and the movie's credits playing behind me, but we bask in the quiet until Harry says, "But this is way way into the future, right?"
I burst out laughing, burying my face into his neck nodding. "Yes, I want to graduate and get settled in my job before we start our family, babe. Like maybe thirty? I think I'll still have some eggs left by then." I joke.
Harry snorts, "That gives us a lot of time."
"Time for what?" I ask coyly, twirling a curl around my finger.
I squeal as he whips me around, lying me flat on my back on the couch. He doesn't answer my question, both of us knowing exactly what he meant. His lips ravaged my neck, hands pulling at my clothes to get them off. It's fast and needy, but comforting and filled with love.