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4
KAITLYN
Minutes move at an interminable pace. Hands are everywhere, touching me hard and rough. Despite the flurry of motion, I still feel cold. I think my body has gone into shock.
The brunette has halitosis. Every time he tells me what he’s going to do to me, I get a whiff of him. He smells like something died inside his mouth, or maybe that’s just what I’m hoping happens.
The blonde chuckles the whole time. To him, this is funny. To him, this is a game. An appetizer of breaking and entering before making a meal out of torturing me.
I’m losing hope when there’s a knock on the door. A hand gets slapped over my mouth while the brunette reminds me in no uncertain terms that there’s a gun in his pocket. As if I’d forgotten that the hard length pushing into me was anything other than the steel barrel.
Seconds feel like hours before the second knock comes. This one has an identifier: it’s the police. They got my call after all! They sent someone! I struggle in the grasp of my captors, shoving one way and then the other until I make enough commotion that I can yell for help. But it isn’t enough.
The two men start dragging me to toward the bedroom with a hand clamped tighter over my mouth than before. I can’t scream or yell, but the cop can. He says that he’s coming inside and when he does, my hope is restored. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m close.
Brunette with the gun tries to tell the officer that this is something I want. My stomach twists and threatens to upend everything I’ve eaten in the last twenty-four hours if the cop believes him. All I can do is bite the hand covering my mouth and scream for help. Please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me with them.
The first officer is joined by his backup. The two of them put on an impressive showing compared to the teenage boys holding my arms. There might be a gun in the brunette’s pocket, but it’s no match for the police.
The sound of police sirens fills the air as the cops cajole the boys into letting me go. The blonde tightens his grip on my arm until there are red marks peeking through. But eventually, after what feels like an eternity, he releases me. “Let her go, D,” he sighs heavily.
Their robbery and assault are foiled. The second the brunette’s hands come off of me, I race forward. I barely catch the name on the silver plate on Jennings chest before I crash into his arms. I’m crying and I can feel the butt of his gun pressing into my back as he holds me, but I’m safe.
The room is filled with half a dozen officers a few moments later. I miss the moment when the blonde and brunette are handcuffed. I hear them saying that they’re armed, but they hand over their guns to the police without resistance. I stay where I am, afraid that if I leave the arms of my savior that I’ll have a complete breakdown.
“It’s okay,” he whispers soothingly in my ear. “You’re safe now.” I hold him like a teddy bear and he grips me in return. When the paramedics arrive, he adjusts me in his grasp to carry me to the couch like a bride on her wedding day. “We’re just going to get you checked out, okay? You have to let go. I won’t go anywhere.”
It takes gentle reassurance and another ten minutes to convince me to unwrap my arms from around Jennings neck. I finally catch a good look at his face as the paramedics start plying me with questions and checking out the bruises left by the hard touches of the boys that were here before.
“She’s in shock,” one of the paramedics announces. If that’s his medical opinion, I should become a nurse. I’m more than qualified to make that call myself.
Jennings doesn’t break eye contact with me. He holds my hand with a stern look on his face and nods in agreement with what the paramedics tell him. “Can I get some clothes for you, miss?” He asks when the exam is complete. “You’re cold and there’s a lot of people around.”
I break eye contact for a second and realize that he’s right. There are eight police officers, including him, and two paramedics. Nearly a dozen people are traipsing around taking notes and avoiding looking at me.
Frankie is quietly sitting in the kitchen with one of the officers. One of the men tied her up when she started getting antsy with their movements. She was still wearing her leash, so they just attached it to a table leg and took my last line of defense. Now she’s getting pets and watching me with concerned eyes. I want to wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her coat, but I’m afraid to get off the couch.
“Miss?” Jennings calls again. “Are you okay?”
I don’t know. Physically there’s nothing wrong with me besides a few bruises. I was spared the mental anguish of having two men force themselves on me, but there are scars. There’s the way they unbuttoned my shorts with one holding me and the other carefully sliding them down my thighs. There’s the sound of my shirt ripping before they stripped me of my dignity. “Can I have a blanket?”
The paramedic grabs one from the other side of the couch and drapes it over me. Somehow with it on, I feel even colder. A shiver runs down my spine and I brace myself against the shakes that follow.
“Can you tell me your name?” Jennings asks with a measure of concern in his tone.
I would do whatever he asked me to, but I can’t say those words. They don’t form on my tongue and my throat doesn’t put any action behind them. Instead, I tell him my name. “Kaitlyn.” It comes out in a whisper.
He tucks the blanket in around me when he notices that I’m still shivering. “I’m Mitchell,” he introduces himself, “Mitchell Jennings. And if you’re up for it, we’d like to take a statement.”
“Hey, one of them had the girl’s cell phone,” another cop announces as he comes through the door. He hands it over and Mitchell is the one to grab it. The screen turns on and I see that I have a missed call from my mother, just like the brunette teased. I also see the time. Has it really only been half an hour? It feels like an eternity has passed.
Mitchell offers me the phone but when I don’t take it, he sets it down on the coffee table. “I know you’re probably feeling a little overwhelmed right now,” he says gently, “this was a traumatic experience. But if you could tell us what happened now, that’ll help us put these guys behind bars.”
I just want to crawl into bed with Frankie, go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow forgetting everything that happened here today. But memories can’t be erased and what happened can’t be undone. If I can help save this from happening to someone else, maybe that’s enough to get me to part my lips and tell my tale. “Okay,” I nod my head after a moment.
The police officer gets to his feet and a sudden shock of fear electrifies me. “No!” I rush. “Don’t go!” I reach out to grab his arm, clinging to him for dear life. If he leaves, so does my anchor to sanity. I know that if I lose him, I will lose my grip on reality. Right now he’s the only thing that makes sense. He’s the only person that makes me feel safe.
Officer Jennings ushers one of the officers to come over. “We’re going to take her statement right here if that’s okay,” he tells the woman. “Kaitlyn is shaken and this is where she’ll be most comfortable.” Then, without another word, he takes a seat on the couch beside me. He wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder and I nestle into him.
