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She didn't sell her body. The bastards stole it, in front of a fucking camera no less. After it was all over they threw a twenty on the floor and left her bleeding and nearly dying on a mattress in the middle of the floor. She didn't remember getting up. She didn't remember throwing her coat over herself. She didn't remember stepping out onto the city street barefoot and bleeding. She didn't remember the people staring, pointing fingers, whispering to each other. She didn't remember collapsing in the middle of the street nearly being hit by a truck. She vaguely remembered hands all over her again. She fought. She screamed. She cried please no, not again! Finally, She was given something to calm her down. Blackness enveloped her.

When she awoke several days later the sun was shining and there was snow on the ground outside her window. A Doctor, a man was asking her if she could remember anything. She ignored his sick questions. She just stared out the window letting him go on and on about how they needed any information she could give them to catch the guys who did this. Shouldn't the cops be asking these questions and why would knowing how many guys did her at once help them catch the bastards anyway. She finally told him to get the hell out screaming until he ran out of the room just in time to avoid the cops and several nurses. Again, more questions. Well at least it was a lady cop this time. At least she knew the right questions to ask. At least she had some little empathy for what had happened to her.

When Dalia was finally able to get out of bed she climbed into the shower and stood there the hot, hot water nearly scalding her. One good thing about hospital showers, the hot water goes on forever. She sat on the floor her tears diluted in the spray. She scrubbed and scrubbed but she just couldn't get clean. After some time, she didn't know how long she finally climbed out of the shower. It was only then she noticed the mirror, her hair. It had been cut. Who the fuck! Fresh tears stained her face running down her cheeks. She fell to the floor. Who did this she said weakly. She lay there until the lady cop hoping to talk to her again came in. She'd brought her some clothes. What was left of her original outfit was sitting in the police station in an evidence bag in a locker never to be seen again by anyone for that matter. Like rape kits they had a tendency to just sit somewhere and rot.

She was helped back into her bed and left alone with her memories, the awful moments leading up what had happened, what they'd done to her, those men. She should have known the job advertisement was too good to be true but she'd been just a bit too needy, too desperate to pay attention to the little voice in her head that said "Don't go". When she got to the office she found a desk a chair and a young man sitting behind it. There was no place for her to sit. The young man apologized saying they were just getting the office set up and most of the furniture hadn't come yet. He ushered her into another room Another man big and burly she hadn't seen before came in behind her so when she saw the mattress on the floor she couldn't get away. She couldn't run. She couldn't stop what happened next. The man who'd given her the job advertisement was there. He said something to the burly one. The hours after that were hell. She didn't want to remember. God please help me, save me. She was reliving it all over again.

A voice soft and calming came to her amongst the din inside her head. It's gonna be ok, the voice said. You're gonna get through this. I'll help you any way I can. She opened her eyes to find the lady cop sitting beside her, soft fingers brushing the hair from her face. She could tell just by looking at her she understood. Maybe she had even been through it herself. I can't tell you any more than I already did she told the cop. I didn't come here to grill you with questions, the woman replied. I came by to see how you are doing and to take you somewhere if you feel up to it. Dalia wasn't sure but somehow she felt that anything this woman had in mind had to be better than lying there screaming at the monsters inside her head.She was helped into clean clothes that surprisingly fit and she walked from that room to a long hall, to an elevator, to a revolving door and finally a car outside. We have to go all the way to the other end of the hospital so I didn't want to make you walk.

Finally at the entrance once again, this time about a city block away she was led back into the hospital and down a flight of stairs where there was a small coffee shop. Several people were milling around various things to eat and drink in their hands. DO you want anything, she was asked. Yes, please, a cup of coffee and what is your name. I'm tired of thinking of you as "Lady Cop". "Lady cop" said my name is Shade after a ghost my mother once told me she saw. A ghost, you were really named after a ghost. Yeah, Shade told her and laughed herself. I'm sorry, said Dalia. I hope I didn't offend you. No replied Shade I've always had a bit of a sense of humor about such things. With a family as eccentric as mine you get use to it. May I introduce you around? Dalia looked around her. Suddenly everyone was looking at her. She felt very uncomfortable. Why did you bring me here? I want to leave. Take me back. I don't want to be stared at like some carnival freak. I'm sorry Shade told her I should have told you. Come on I'll take you back.

It was weeks, months really until Dalia was able to go back to that coffee shop but when she did Shade was right there. She stood with her and even spoke of herself and what had happened to her so long ago when she was just a teen. Dalia knew she'd been right. Shade was like her, like all the other women here They'd all been through it in one way or another. Now I won't go into their stories. None of them would want that, but one thing I will tell you. Dalia never quite got over her rape but she did manage to get on with her life. At some point she got her hair cut to fix the damage that had been done and she even found she liked her hair short. Shade became her very best friend, even more in time. She never saw the men who'd harmed her so badly ever again. She lived a full life never thinking about the damage that had been done to her. In that way she won a battle a battle she'd been too weak to fight so long ago. As the years rolled by Dalia grew old and her friend Shade died of cancer. She was alone but she didn't mind it much. One day she saw a young lady sitting on a park bench, a coat wrapped tightly around her cut and bleeding body. It's gonna be ok, she said. You're gonna get through this. I'll help you any way I can.

This story is a work of fiction. It is dedicated to those who would help others but more it is dedicated to a little girl, Madison Wertz I know who took time out of her childhood to try to make a difference. She is the reason Rape kits have a tendency to be taken more seriously, if not everywhere then in at least some places where they still remember her name. It all started with that little girl, a piece of paper and a pen.

The artwork for this piece is made with Open Art AI. No such woman exists or ever has.

Thanks for taking the time to read this all the way through.

Jon.

Description

She didn't sell her body. The bastards stole it, in front of a fucking camera no less. After it was all over they threw a twenty on the floor and left her bleeding and nearly dying on a mattress in the middle of the floor. She didn't remember getting up. She didn't remember throwing her coat over herself. She didn't remember stepping out onto the city street barefoot and bleeding. She didn't remember the people staring, pointing fingers, whispering to each other. She didn't remember collapsing in the middle of the street nearly being hit by a truck. She vaguely remembered hands all over her again. She fought. She screamed. She cried please no, not again! Finally, She was given something to calm her down. Blackness enveloped her.

When she awoke several days later the sun was shining and there was snow on the ground outside her window. A Doctor, a man was asking her if she could remember anything. She ignored his sick questions. She just stared out the window letting him go on and on about how they needed any information she could give them to catch the guys who did this. Shouldn't the cops be asking these questions and why would knowing how many guys did her at once help them catch the bastards anyway. She finally told him to get the hell out screaming until he ran out of the room just in time to avoid the cops and several nurses. Again, more questions. Well at least it was a lady cop this time. At least she knew the right questions to ask. At least she had some little empathy for what had happened to her.

When Dalia was finally able to get out of bed she climbed into the shower and stood there the hot, hot water nearly scalding her. One good thing about hospital showers, the hot water goes on forever. She sat on the floor her tears diluted in the spray. She scrubbed and scrubbed but she just couldn't get clean. After some time, she didn't know how long she finally climbed out of the shower. It was only then she noticed the mirror, her hair. It had been cut. Who the fuck! Fresh tears stained her face running down her cheeks. She fell to the floor. Who did this she said weakly. She lay there until the lady cop hoping to talk to her again came in. She'd brought her some clothes. What was left of her original outfit was sitting in the police station in an evidence bag in a locker never to be seen again by anyone for that matter. Like rape kits they had a tendency to just sit somewhere and rot.

She was helped back into her bed and left alone with her memories, the awful moments leading up what had happened, what they'd done to her, those men. She should have known the job advertisement was too good to be true but she'd been just a bit too needy, too desperate to pay attention to the little voice in her head that said "Don't go". When she got to the office she found a desk a chair and a young man sitting behind it. There was no place for her to sit. The young man apologized saying they were just getting the office set up and most of the furniture hadn't come yet. He ushered her into another room Another man big and burly she hadn't seen before came in behind her so when she saw the mattress on the floor she couldn't get away. She couldn't run. She couldn't stop what happened next. The man who'd given her the job advertisement was there. He said something to the burly one. The hours after that were hell. She didn't want to remember. God please help me, save me. She was reliving it all over again.

A voice soft and calming came to her amongst the din inside her head. It's gonna be ok, the voice said. You're gonna get through this. I'll help you any way I can. She opened her eyes to find the lady cop sitting beside her, soft fingers brushing the hair from her face. She could tell just by looking at her she understood. Maybe she had even been through it herself. I can't tell you any more than I already did she told the cop. I didn't come here to grill you with questions, the woman replied. I came by to see how you are doing and to take you somewhere if you feel up to it. Dalia wasn't sure but somehow she felt that anything this woman had in mind had to be better than lying there screaming at the monsters inside her head.She was helped into clean clothes that surprisingly fit and she walked from that room to a long hall, to an elevator, to a revolving door and finally a car outside. We have to go all the way to the other end of the hospital so I didn't want to make you walk.

Finally at the entrance once again, this time about a city block away she was led back into the hospital and down a flight of stairs where there was a small coffee shop. Several people were milling around various things to eat and drink in their hands. DO you want anything, she was asked. Yes, please, a cup of coffee and what is your name. I'm tired of thinking of you as "Lady Cop". "Lady cop" said my name is Shade after a ghost my mother once told me she saw. A ghost, you were really named after a ghost. Yeah, Shade told her and laughed herself. I'm sorry, said Dalia. I hope I didn't offend you. No replied Shade I've always had a bit of a sense of humor about such things. With a family as eccentric as mine you get use to it. May I introduce you around? Dalia looked around her. Suddenly everyone was looking at her. She felt very uncomfortable. Why did you bring me here? I want to leave. Take me back. I don't want to be stared at like some carnival freak. I'm sorry Shade told her I should have told you. Come on I'll take you back.

It was weeks, months really until Dalia was able to go back to that coffee shop but when she did Shade was right there. She stood with her and even spoke of herself and what had happened to her so long ago when she was just a teen. Dalia knew she'd been right. Shade was like her, like all the other women here They'd all been through it in one way or another. Now I won't go into their stories. None of them would want that, but one thing I will tell you. Dalia never quite got over her rape but she did manage to get on with her life. At some point she got her hair cut to fix the damage that had been done and she even found she liked her hair short. Shade became her very best friend, even more in time. She never saw the men who'd harmed her so badly ever again. She lived a full life never thinking about the damage that had been done to her. In that way she won a battle a battle she'd been too weak to fight so long ago. As the years rolled by Dalia grew old and her friend Shade died of cancer. She was alone but she didn't mind it much. One day she saw a young lady sitting on a park bench, a coat wrapped tightly around her cut and bleeding body. It's gonna be ok, she said. You're gonna get through this. I'll help you any way I can.

This story is a work of fiction. It is dedicated to those who would help others but more it is dedicated to a little girl, Madison Wertz I know who took time out of her childhood to try to make a difference. She is the reason Rape kits have a tendency to be taken more seriously, if not everywhere then in at least some places where they still remember her name. It all started with that little girl, a piece of paper and a pen.

The artwork for this piece is made with Open Art AI. No such woman exists or ever has.

Thanks for taking the time to read this all the way through.

Jon.