3652 Days of Julia

Day One Hundred and Three.
Julia’s Perspective.
17 years old.

“Stop it! Please stop it!” I cried, tears pouring down my face as I felt a repulsive hand slide up under my dress. “Please! James stop!”

My desperate pleads were not heard, and if they were heard, they were ignored. I had never felt so degraded and insignificant as I did in the moment when my dress was pulled up, exposing my legs, and my underwear was ripped, falling straight off my body. I didn’t know what to do. I had tried screaming, kicking, clawing, even biting my attacker, and yet he was still on top of me, now about to undo the bottom of his jeans. My head was spinning, and my body was slowly becoming more and more relaxed, my blood heating up as I began to lie there lifelessly. I wished more than ever that Oli and I hadn’t fought, and that it was him I was with, holding me, kissing me…

“What the fuck are you doing to her!?” I heard someone barge into the room, making a sound contrasting to my whimpers and James’s foul grunts of domination.

“Fuck.” I heard James mutter as he moved off me. I lay there, crying, my face wet and body shaking. I felt pain from between my legs where they had been furiously ripped apart, my jaw throbbing from where I had been punched, and scratches on my thigh from dirty fingernails trying to keep me in place. Thankfully someone had entered the room before I was officially raped. I knew who that person was.

I watched as Oli grabbed James and flung him against the wall, his fist colliding with James’s jaw. I lay there, not taking anything in, too shocked and upset to realise I was safe now. Oli was here to rescue me. I saw my best friend, Katie, in the doorway, looking at me with tears in her eyes. I watched as Oli repetitively kicked James, and Katie walked in, holding him back as she made James leave the room, and told one of the girls in the hallway to call the police. The door shut and Oli and I were there alone, not able to see each other very well due to the darkness of the room. He stood by the window, shaking, and I lay on the bed still, crying hysterically. Eventually Oli turned to me and walked toward me, taking me up into his arms. I sat in his lap, being rocked like a baby and kissed on the head as he tried to comfort me and suppress my tears.

“Julia…” Oli’s voice cracked, and I knew he was crying too. “I am so, so sorry… I should never have fought with you and left you alone to come here… I came to apologise and… I’m so glad I came.”

I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. I honestly believed it too, but I couldn’t move, and my voice was lodged in my throat. I think that Oli took that as a sign that I blamed him.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, and I felt a tear fall off his cheekbone and onto the top of my head. I felt it sink into my hair, drying, and being replaced with numerous others. I wanted to hold him back, and I wanted to kiss him and tell him everything was okay, that I didn’t blame him and I wanted to move on. I just couldn’t utter the words. My voice was lost, along with what was left of my dignity.

The police arrived. I didn’t want to talk to them. They took me away from Oli, ignoring his pleads to keep me with him. They escorted me to the police station and were expecting me to lodge a complaint against my attacker. I would have, only I was lost, and I needed Oli with me.

My mother was away on business again, which is really code language for I-am-fucking-my-new-boyfriend-at-his-house-down-the-street-but-lying-about-it, and so I didn’t have much of a choice when the police called Oli’s house.

Ten minutes later Oli and his mother showed up. By the looks of him, I knew his father was home. Oli smelled of potent liquor, almost making me gag as he came to sit with me. It was evident he hadn’t ingested any of the bourbon I could smell so strongly on his clothes. There was a stain of blood on the front of his shirt also, and bruise around the area of his nose, which was a clear sign that his father had been home and abusing him yet again.

I saw the police offers give us both a look, a look that said they didn’t really believe what had happened, that they didn’t trust Oli.

“Baby, are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded, too angry at Oli’s mother to speak. I stared at her; rage and disgust clear in my eyes. I saw her swallow and look away from me, whispering softly to the policeman that was talking to her. Suddenly I was overcome with the feeling of rage, not able to keep it back anymore. All the nights Oli had arrived in my house, his face dripping blood, his eyes black, his bones fractured, smelling of straight alcohol and sadness. I had had enough of protecting him, cleaning him, praying for his father to not return home and hurt him anymore. I loved the way he would come to me, and how I would help him to feel better again, but I hated how often it had to happen. What was his mother doing about it? Nothing.

“I’m not the victim here.” I spat, loud enough for everyone to look. “Oli is.”

Oli looked at me in surprise. “What?”

“And you,” I cried, standing and walking toward Oli’s mother, “are to blame for it going on for so fucking long.”

She looked frightened as I neared her, sizing her up as my nose reached just above hers.

“Do you find it acceptable to watch and do absolutely fucking nothing whilst your own son is getting the fuck beat of out him by his drunk, deadbeat father? Why the fuck don’t you pick up the phone, call the police and help him!?” I screamed. “You’re pathetic! He might hurt you too, but when he’s gone there is no excuse for making sure he doesn’t come back and hurt Oli anymore!”

I could see tears collect in her eyes as she looked away from me, her face sinking with guilt. The alcohol I had ingested that started this whole mess in the first place made my head spin, mixing with the adrenaline and anger in my body.

“Excuse me, miss.” The police officer said to me, his voice quiet and kind. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.” He moved closer, a piece of paper on a clipboard in his hand. I could tell he wasn’t exactly sure with what he was dealing with. “I need your statement about what happened tonight, alright? Just come with me love.”

I must have looked shocked, scared… or something. Oli stood up and grabbed my hand.

“Can I go in with her?” He asked.

“No, I’m afraid not yet son.” The officer said. “We’ll be taking a statement from you too; Constable Atkins is over there for you. Don’t worry I’ll bring her to see you as soon as I can, alright?”

He turned to Oli’s mother. “We’ll need to talk to you, as well.”

She nodded, and I watched as Oli was taken into a room opposite mine. The glass was tinted, and I couldn’t see anyone other than the officer in front of me.

“Alright, I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, but I need you to explain what happened, right from the start. Don’t worry about getting into trouble; I need to hear the truth.”

“Oli and me were fighting.” I swallowed, tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “I told him something he didn’t really want to hear, and we started fighting.”

Before the officer could ask what it was I had told him, I continued.

“So, I was feeling angry, and I knew some friends of mine were having a party. Oli was going to come with me, but I went alone.” I started crying lightly as I continued. “When I got there, I was offered a drink by one of my friends, James Whitman. Everyone knew he wanted to get with me but I had ignored it. I drank a bit more, and I started to feel weird… it wasn’t from just alcohol, I know that.”

“So you’re saying you believe your drink was spiked?”

“Yeah. And then I went to the bathroom, and the next thing I knew I was out of there and James had grabbed me and forced me into a bedroom upstairs. I started screaming and crying… I was just about to be raped… when Oli came in. Someone must have heard me scream and went to find him or something. I didn’t know he was there.”

The officer asked me questions about what I had meant about Oli being the victim.

“His dad beats him. Really bad, at least once a week, when he comes home.” I said. “His mother does nothing about it, and Oli doesn’t let me tell anyone, that’s why I was so angry.”

What seemed like hours later, Oli and I were finally reunited, and as we exited the station, I saw James being dragged into the station from a police car, his hands cuffed as if he were a criminal. Oli held me tightly as we walked toward the car, his mother close behind.

When we arrived home, Oli didn’t say a word to his mother, and instead walked into my house with me.

“I’m not leaving you alone Julia. Not tonight especially. Not ever again.”

I cried as he placed me onto my bed, grabbing his shirt as he started to walk away.

“I’m just getting a towel for your bath baby. I’ll be back, I promise.”

When he returned, I clung onto him as he carried me wedding style into the bathroom that was beginning to be filled with steam from the hot bath that was running. I stood there shaking, unsure of what to do. Oli helped me sit on the side of the bath, brushing my hair into a pony tail, he cleaned my face – getting rid of the dripping makeup and my dried tears. I held him as he undressed me like I was a baby, and helped me get into the bubbly water.

It was silent when he turned off the water, sitting beside the bath as I lay in there.

“I’m so sorry baby.” He whispered into my ear. “I will never hurt you, ever. Okay? I will always be there for you, and I will always care, no matter what happens or what you say. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I said, stroking my stomach under the water as I began to feel slightly more refreshed. The alcohol was still in my system, but the drunkenness had worn off, and now I was left with a pleasant, relaxed feeling. “What are we going to do about it?”

I watched Oli tense up as I mentioned what we had fought about. He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

“We’ll think about that later. Let’s just focus on getting you happy again. Okay baby?”

I nodded as he leant down over the edge of the bath and kissed me. I closed my eyes as his fingers played with my hair, and I knew that by tomorrow, everything would be fine.