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“Ever. Ever Knight. Okay, I won’t.”
She nods and slips out while I sit on the edge of the sterile bed, my legs swinging slightly over the side. The paper beneath me crinkles with every jittery movement. I’m alone in a room that smells like disinfectant and anxiety, my stomach doing flips as I wait for the nurse to arrive.
The door opens, and a nurse with kind eyes and a clipboard enters. “Ever Knight? I’m Nurse Grace. Flick told me about your situation. We’ll get you some answers, okay, hun?”
“Okay.”
She pulls the curtain across and, from the other side, calls out, “Slip your jeans and knickers off and lie back. Put the sheet over your lower half.”
“Okay.” It’s the only word I can manage right now. Everything else seems too complex. I feel exposed under the fluorescent lights, vulnerable in a way that goes beyond the physical. It’s as if this examination could lay bare more than just my body—it could unravel all the secrets I’ve kept even from myself.
“Have you ever had an internal exam before?” she asks, coming through the gap in the curtain.
“No.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. Try to relax, okay, hun?”
I can only nod as I bend my knees, and she gently pushes my legs apart. I am mortified. This is beyond humiliating. I hate every second, but I need to know.
She works methodically, explaining each step before she takes it, giving me some sense of control in a situation where I feel I have none. Her touch is clinical and impersonal, but I flinch whenever she touches me.
“Deep breaths, Ever. You’re doing great,” Nurse Grace says, sensing my unease. She offers a small smile before she goes back to work.
I nod, taking her advice and inhaling deeply, attempting to slow the racing of my heart to still the tremor in my limbs. Relief fights with dread inside me, each battling for supremacy. Relief that I’m finally getting answers, dread of what those answers might be.
There is nothing to say right now because what can you say to someone who’s peering into the mostprivate corners of your life, searching for evidence of a violation you prayed never happened?
“Your hymen is still intact, so there was no penetration.”
“Fuck,” I breathe out and then burst into tears, holding my hands up to my face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” she says, rising and pulling the sheet over the top of me again. “It’s okay. Let it out. What happened is scary and should never happen to anyone. You need to report this to the Chancellor, Ever. Do you think you can do that?”
Shaking my head, I try to stifle the sobs. “I don’t know. What if they don’t believe me?”
“These cases are always taken with the utmost seriousness, I can assure you. I will be there to make sure of it.”
The relief that hits me isn’t gentle or soothing; it’s a tidal wave crashing over me with such force I almost gasp. For a second, I can’t speak, can’t move. It’s like my body is rebooting after shutting down from sheer terror.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out eventually, my voice hoarse as if I’ve been screaming for hours. Maybe in my head, I have been. “I’ll think about it.”
She nods, unclips a form from her board, and holds it out. I take it and fold it, placing it on the bed next to me.
“You can get dressed now.”
My legs feel shaky as I slide off the examination table, but they hold. Barely.
“Take care of yourself, Ever,” she advises, handing me a leaflet on counselling services.
“Will do.” The words are automatic, but gratitude warms them. I turn my back to get dressed while she slips out again, and I pick up the form, shoving it in my back pocket but leaving the leaflet. Trying my best to be invisible, I walk out of the infirmary as fast as I can.
Outside, the world hasn’t stopped turning. I let out a long breath, feeling the weight on my shoulders lift that, if nothing else, Stanley, or anyone else for that matter, didn’t violate my body while I was unconscious. I will never let myself be put in that situation again, I vow as I walk away from the infirmary, my sanctuary, in this moment of chaos.
Feeling better but wary, I stride across campus, my steps uneven on the cobblestone paths.
“Hey, Ever!” Nick Henderson’s voice jabs at my bubble of relief like a needle. He’s leaning against an oak tree, smugness oozing from his smirk as if he’s the cat that got the cream. “Looking for this?”
My phone dangles from his fingers.
