One of my friends from school, who I have known since 7th grade (who shall remain nameless) was raped shortly before the end of school. She came to school, utterly destraught and flinching from male contact. Her having an abusive father, I thought he did something. I asked her if her dad did anything, and she said "no, not him". I looked at her funny, and noticed bruises and cuts on her arms. I figured the bruises to be from her father, and the cuts, her reaction to the abuse. I pulled her to the side, and told her to tell me what happened, or else I would "Jump to the worst of Conclusions".
She looked at me, silent.
"It was the worst, isn't it?"
"Yes..."
"Who did it? What son-of-a-bitch hurt you?"
"I don't know..."
"What? What happened?"
She explained to me how she was just goofing off in the woods behind her house when she was attacked by a strange young man. It was night and she didn't get to see his face. She was raped, and beaten. Not badly, because she didn't have too many bruises, at least, ones I could see.
"Did you get a rape kit?"
"No..."
"You showered, didn't you?"
"Yes..."
"*NAME* That's so stupid! They won't catch him if you showered! All that DNA is lost!"
"Me and My stepmom are going to the hospital tonight with the clothes I wore. They can do tests on those, right?"
"Yea, I suppose...I hope they catch the fucking bastard! I hope he gets fucking castrated for what he did!
And almost a month later, he has been caught. My friend now carries mace around with her, but she is okay, and coping.
What sucks is that it had happened before to her. But she's a tough girl, and the people who love her know what happened and are there for her.
I got her text message only a few hours ago, and I was so happy, and so shocked to hear the news. From what little she had to turn in, they were able to catch the fucking bastard.
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