Perfectly Broken

The door creaks open and in the gap stands a young girl no more than twelve-years-old.

My legs go limp. I can’t breathe. Did that really just happen?

I drop to my knees, collapsing into myself, shrinking into a blubbering ball on her porch. “Call the police.” My voice sounds foreign, broken and raspy. “Please help. I’ve been raped.” I’m hysterical, but I can’t calm my sobs.

I didn’t think I would live through this. Now I’m not sure I can live with it.

“Momma…” she calls. “There’s a girl… crying.” She sounds confused and scared.

I feel bad for her. I can only imagine how horrible this must look from the other side. Are my blue jeans even zipped? Am I even wearing a shirt?

A woman comes to the door and stands above me, but I can’t look up at her. I am nothing more than a puddle of tears with my face buried into my hands.

This can’t be real. I can’t really be here. My heart has stopped. I could lose consciousness at any moment. My body wants to shut down. My brain needs to shut off. Please, just let me wake up. Let this be some horrible nightmare.

She says, “Send the police. I’ve got a girl at my door crying her eyes out.” I assume she’s on the phone but don’t look up. She pauses. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I can’t understand anything she’s saying.” Pause. “Ummm… Miss… are you hurt?”

I’m so lost in my head it takes me a while to realize she’s talking to me.

I don’t know if I’m hurt. I still can’t feel my body. The pain inside my mind is all that exists. Reality, time, life—they are an illusion I’ve lost. I died in that car. All that’s left of me is a shell. My heart has disintegrated. My lungs have collapsed. All that holds me together is my skin.

I force myself to remain in the here and now long enough to decide I don’t want an ambulance. I want the police. There’s no medicine for a disintegrated heart. My mind is shattered. No hospital can fix that either.

That would take too many words to explain. All I manage to say is, “No.” I still can’t bring myself to lift my eyes to hers. The nothingness my hands offer is all I want to see.

“Miss, what’s your name?” she asks softly.

I’m not sure why she’s talking to me. I figure she’s being coaxed by the operator so I comply with her question, answering with as few syllables as possible, but never looking up. 

“Amber Harville.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” 

“What happened?”

“Rape.”

The word is acid on my tongue. It’s filthy. It shouldn’t exist—the word or the… No. This isn’t real. I can’t really be here. I squeeze my eyes shut and push my hands harder into my face. Make it stop. Make this world disappear.

I don’t want it to be real. I’d rather be insane than here, crying.

The world around me fades. Memories rush through me, evil flashbacks I can’t stop. I hear his voice in my head.

He shouts at me, “Stop fighting or I’ll break your neck!” His grip on my jaw is so tight. I can’t breathe. “Take off your pants.” I don’t move. I’m deciding what’s worse, death or rape. He twists my jaw further and just an inch more would mean death.

She touches my shoulders and asks, “Can I get you something to drink?”

I shudder as my flashback disappears and I return to the moment. I still can’t open my eyes. The abyss my eyelids offer is my safety. If I open my eyes, and I’m really here, then this really happened. So, I can’t open my eyes. Not until I wake up. Please, wake up.