Chapter 76: Chapter 76

Calmly, Michael fixes his clothes and leaves me broken on the bed with the towel in my mouth. Too scared to move, I can tell I’m bleeding and it is hard to see out of my left eye. I keep recalling him saying as he tightened his belt, “You can go to him now. I’m done with you. If you press charges you’ll ruin all three of our lives, so I advise against it. You gave assumed consent to this the minute you kissed Scott knowing cameras were pointed on you.”

I remove the gag from my mouth and remain crying in the dark until there are no tears left to shed. My energy depletes, I feel no hunger, only the desire to die. Eventually, my body betrays me, forcing me to get up and go to the bathroom. It burns when I void, and I feel the need to shower his dirt away. I take the bar of soap and rub her skin raw, scrubbing my legs, arms, and flank until I draw blood. I tear at the layers of my skin like there is an invisible film that needs to be removed, trying to undo what happened. Full of self-loathing and blame, I lose all sense of self-worth. It is the worst feeling in the world.

My left eye is swollen shut and my jaw is throbbing with pain. I walk over to the sink and try to brush Michael's filth out of her mouth. I can't eliminate his taste. His germs are suffocating me. I return to bed with blood-stained sheets and curl into the fetal position. I keep waking up and then falling back to sleep again until I hear a frantic knock at her door. “Isabella? Are you in there? Isabella!” It's Coach Tammy, I have no energy or inclination to answer.

The door to my room bursts open and Coach gasps. “Who did this to you?” He collects me from bed but I scurry away squealing in terror. I cower in the corner of the room, and he pulls his cell phone from his front pocket and calls 911. I want him to stop but I can’t form the words. I’m petrified. Coach stands at the opposite end of the room reassuring me everything is going to be okay until the ambulance comes.

The voices can be heard down the hallway before there is a second knock at the door and this time it is the ambulance attendants entering the room. They advanced towards me as though they are entrapping a wild animal. I lash out in self-defense. They step back, regroup and mumble amongst themselves. Then all three come at me at once. They pin me to the floor and I feel a needle pierce my arm. I drift away.

I open my eyes to find myself in a hospital room unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It’s nicer, calmer looking, and less sterile. A nurse with a name tag that reads Bianca is standing close to me. She notices my eyes open and smiles at me and then tries to explain, “The paramedics had to sedate you. Do you know where you are?”

Her blond curly hair and blue eyes caught my attention, and distract me, I already forgot what she said, “Pardon me?”

“Do you know where you are?” Bianca repeats.

“In a hospital?” I guess.

“You’re in a section of one that’s involved with sexual crimes." My eyes feel heavy.

“We need to examine you. We'd like to have your consent,” Bianca explains.

I nodded and felt another needle in my arm. “I think this exam needs to be done with sedation,” she conspires with her coworker. I see her just before my world goes black, I still hear her say, “The ambulance attendants had to sedate her just to get near her,” and that’s all I remember.

While under, the nurses place my legs in stirrups and do a physical exam trying to obtain evidence that can be used in a court of law. I’m tested for sexually transmitted diseases including HIV. A pregnancy test is also performed. I later find out that I shouldn’t have showered before the physical examination because evidence can be destroyed, but there is evidence found on me. Then I’m left on the bed with a female registered nurse at my side. I’m in a secret part of the hospital not many people know about, preventing further harm to me, should the assaulter look for the assaulted. (Me..).

“We took samples and performed the necessary tests while you were under.” The nurse looks at me with concern in her eyes. She didn’t try touching me in any way. “Can you tell me what happened?” she inquires.

I answer the nurse in my mind but nothing comes from my lips. I’m numb. The nurse looks at me again and tries a different approach. “Today is Friday. Do you know when this happened to you?”

My brow creases as I try figuring out what day it happened, but my mind comes up blank. I can’t talk about it even if I want to. The nurse then reassures me, “During a traumatic event the body doesn’t act the way it would usually, under normal circumstances. The likelihood of you being pregnant is slim to none. We have taken a pregnancy test, but your blood results aren’t in yet.”

"It’s advisable that if it’s been within forty-eight hours of the assault, that you take the morning-after pill. Are you willing to take it, to prevent pregnancy by your attacker?”

“No,” I manage to reply. “I can’t take it. I was with Scott too and I would never kill his baby.” I start crying.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Will I have to tell anyone else?” My swollen face and sore jaw make it uncomfortable to talk. If I have to tell someone else what happened, I don’t want to have to repeat myself, it’s too humiliating.

“I won't lie. You'll have to repeat it to the police,” Bianca replies.

“Then I’d rather tell all of you at the same time so I don’t have to say it twice.”

“I’ll call them in now.”

“Do they come even if I’m not going to press charges?”

“Yes,” Bianca responds. “They come whenever someone is brought in to us.” “So, I don’t have to press charges?” I confirm.

“No. You don’t,” Bianca answers. “It's up to the police to decide if they can make a case or not. They can charge him, even if you don’t.”

I close my eyes and rest until they come. They knock on the door and Bianca lets them in. Two police officers in full uniform introduce themselves. I’m not able to retain either of their names. They look about the same age as I am. One officer pulls a pad out of her pocket and begins writing.

“Kindly state your name and age.” “Isabella Brandon, twenty-seven.”

“Can you explain the events that occurred, resulting in the 911 call?” Michaels prediction of all of our lives being ruined leads me to fudge my story, “I was with my boyfriend...we just got carried away. It was all consensual.” The police officer looks at her partner with disbelief and then back to me.

“State your boyfriend's name and age?” “Michael Anderson, he’s twenty-eight.”

“So let me confirm, the activities that took place between you and this Mr.

Anderson was consensual?” “That’s correct.” I nod.

Her partner looks at me and says sarcastically, “So you asked this Michael guy to give you a black eye? Is that correct?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” I answer, “we got carried away, I upset him.

It was all my fault.”

“Did you have sexual activities with Michael Anderson on the morning in question?” she went further with her questioning.

“We did,” I verify.

“Did you have sexual activities with anyone else on the morning in question?”

“No. the night before,” I know these cops don’t believe it was consensual. “Can you confirm you weren’t forced to do anything against your will?” “Yes,” I answer.

The officer looks into my eyes and asks, “Have you been threatened?” “No,” I confirm.

“Do you want Mr. Anderson to go to prison for what he did to you?” “No, I don’t. This has all been blown out of proportion.”

The officers get up, “If you change your mind, here’s our card.” There is an edge of frustration in the female officer's tone. They leave and Nurse Bianca says, "What can I do for you now?" I check the time on the wall and see that it’s after midnight, “Can I call Coach Tammy, a friend of mine, and have him pick me up? I just want to go home, please,” I beg.

“Is that the man who found you?” “Yes, it is.”

“Sure, you can call him while I go to the nurses' station and page the doctor to get a discharge order. Just dial nine and the number.”

I called Coach Tammy and he answers on the first ring.

“Coach, it's me,” I say in a soft cracking voice, barely a whisper. “Isabella? Are you okay?” he asks with concern.

“I can go home now,” I choke out between sobs.

“I’ll come to get you,” he says soothingly. “Scott wants to come. He's worried sick.”

“Sure,” I answer.

I hang up the phone and close my eyes again, reviewing what happened in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I get so malicious to Michael? I shouldn’t have admitted to sleeping with Scott but he would have found out anyway the tapes. What I did would have infuriated anyone. I made him so angry, intentionally. I was a foolish idiot. He was the head of the Association, my fiancé, he had every right to be a part of the deliberation. I deserved everything that happened to me, and more.