One would think that a person who was robbed and raped 2 years ago this month would have learned the lesson to not trust so easily. Yet here I remain an anomaly that repeatedly jumps into the frying pan time after time again. Putting your hand on the burner to test the heat is one thing however typically the act is not repeated….
A few weeks ago my “best friend” decided to rob and strip my house clean of everything with material value except for this computer I am typing on currently. All my incredibly expensive camera equipment, wall hangings, DVD players, 100’s of DVD’s, video game player and games, BUT worst of all my sweet son Lincoln’s Ipad (with his autism it has helped him so much to becoming more verbal plus semi easier to control out in public during meltdowns). An autistic child’s Ipad- How sick can one person be?? I had been oblivious and now horribly blind-sided to how much of a drug addict she was.
An unfortunate series of events went on these past few months when All of my prescription medicines would disappear. Stupidly I believed her when she blamed our other friend. Then it was her semi sketchy cousin next month. Then I caught her red-handed the following month but when I confronted her 3 times she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. I dropped it until the next morning and once again finding all my pills gone… ! This time I took a photo of all that was missing and sent it to her saying “How could you do this to me? I have PTSD for goodness sake?!”. Her reply was an immediate (seemingly) heartfelt response about how incredibly sorry she was since when she gets into that “zombie state” she doesn’t even remember how many pills she takes, and claimed to not remember stealing them even tho I assured her I had confronted her 3 times! “I’m so so sorry, I promise I will make it up to you” she says… And naively I believe her. Did that happen? Of course not.
The ONLY reason I had even let her back into my life after cutting her out for a solid 6 months after the rape was to angrily tell her off since I was shocked that she did not bother returning the repeated phone calls from the State Attorney trying to get ahold of her to corroborate my story. Since I had no memory of that night after being rufied (3 beers does not constitute a mind erase) my testimony was not enough because the grueling rape kit I underwent came back inconclusive…
My body told the story without any words needed from the fingered-tipped bruises all over my legs and arms I was covered in with a deep bruise on my butt. Which I was told later she heard loud noises coming from my bathroom so I can only assume I was pressed against my counter to explain that dark purple bruise. The shower curtain and towel racks were pulled off left on the ground. Piles of my puke covered the floor as well. My guest bathroom had indeed become a crime scene.
The night at the hospital getting that dreaded rape kit done I was thankful to have Christine from SPARCC (Safe Place and Rape Crisis Center for those of you that are not aware) come to my room and advocate for me helping me fill out the mountains of paperwork, and the scary stuff like stripping down naked being combed everywhere to collect any sort of DNA. I knew the chances of them finding anything there was slim to none since I do not have very much body hair, and even though I had not showered I did change clothes since mine had vomit stains. My nurse was a very kind woman but nothing like my fellow New Yorker Christine who helped distract me during all the antibiotics, anti-HIV shots injected, along with countless horse pills, and of course intense questioning. We had thought provoking conversations about philosophy, religion, and other topics to keep us entertained- even laughing despite the situation.
However when the moment came finally all prepped and ready for the doctor to come in for the pelvic exam, swabbing, and examination of my vagina the VERY moment his fingers touched me I instantly burst into tears. I hadn’t cried that entire time. The slightest touch from this male doctor (how insensitive in my opinion given the situation- couldn’t they have paged a woman?) sent me into panicked tears making my stomach heave so much that he had to stop momentarily until I could regain my composure. My nurse and advocate held my hands crying themselves and said “That is ALL the proof needed to know that you were raped”- you cannot fake an instant involuntary reaction like that.
Those words still chill me now even writing this.
In a former post about other details of that night I divulged the information that this guy had been a fellow photographer that I was close friends with for 3 years even while I was still married. Never anything romantic between us in the slightest bit. I knew him so well to know that he always had carried a condom in his wallet. So of course my kit came back “inconclusive” or rather an infuriatingly unfair insult to injury. My now ex best friend who just robbed me had told me that her boyfriend who was also there that night began to later tell her details… the heroin they bought with my money, stealing and damaging my new car, things he had done/joined in doing to me, but even more sickening is that he and this other “man” (I use that word with complete condescension) apparently both put me naked in the bath tub still vomiting profusely. The amount all over my living room, all over my bathroom, and bathtub is obviously what saved my life since the drugs were not able to stay in my system permanently- just long enough to completely wipe my memory and make me violently ill.
The silver lining to that is of course that I did not die. However waking up that morning can only be described as awakening in a foreign country with no idea how you got there and no explanation to the million questions whirling around in your head a mile a minute. If you have ever watched the show “The Living Dead” the very first episode the main character wakes up to walk out and see a desolate destroyed incomprehensible world, and that is the exact feeling I felt.
There will be no “Victim’s rights” brochures handed to me by the police again.
There will be justice this time. This I vow to myself.
ariellemegan 