Hayley's Story

I didn’t know his name or his weight or his age but I did know his face and if I had to see it again, I would know him So I figured that was a good start and they could help with the other parts: maybe draw a sketch or make a chart of men in the system who matched the description and then we could go from there I walked into the station, met a group of detectives. I was sharing facts my memory collected when – “You have no evidence,” they said, “We really have nothing to work with.” I tried to think back farther, I was trying to think harder when – “I see blonde men with green eyes everyday; without DNA, there’s just no way. You didn’t scratch him?” I’d already cut my nails. “And you drew no blood at all?” I’d already scrubbed my hands. “Okay, how long ago did this occur?” It had already been a month. They told me I should just drop it – that it would be my word versus his lies, that his side would sound more convincing, that unless I had a jury of 12 women, I’d lose and I should just choose to forget it and, “Not for nothing,” they said, “some people get abused everyday and don’t say anything.” They told me I should really just drop it “And are you sure you denied it?” they asked, “It’s okay if you regret it but this is a serious accusation.” They thought I was being dramatic Well, I wasn’t acting while he smothered me – legs wide open, eyes half shut I counted my breaths – drowning in the taste of sweat-soaked palms I shook under his grip They apologized on behalf of the man they weren’t sure existed for committing the crime they weren’t sure he committed, then asked why I waited so long to speak up And at that point, I was glad I did because if I had walked in there say… the night after it happened, or the third night, fourth night, two weeks after it happened – after 17 showers, 15 cuts, 12 unreturned calls to my mother, 9 lock changes, 4 long screams, and 1 accidental hour of sleep, and they did this – I’d have killed myself.