She stared, empty-eyed, straight ahead. They all stood still, spread out around her, unmoving. She felt the tears welling up in the back of her eyes, and cried out “Someone touch me, god damn it!”, her tone desperate and urgent. “Touch me!”. Nothing. Stillness. “Touch me!”. Again. “Touch me, please!”. Camila was the first to step towards her, her hesitance overshadowed by her unwavering and calming confidence. Her face held neither pity nor love, but her eyes shown a strange kinship which exuded the only thing that could garner such trust: truth. As soon as Camila embraced her, she exhaled the emotional weight she had been holding in. Lightheaded and still in some shock, her reaction to the hug was a grateful one in her head, though her appearance must have seemed unchanged. They walked back into the waiting room, Camila and Nour on either side of her, and Maks in front of her.
They sat there for hours, waiting. Just waiting. She felt light brushes against her skin, when no one was touching her. She felt dark breath on her neck, when no one was beside her. She felt touched, trespassed, everywhere. When nothing was around her. She stared off into her memories, every moment flashing behind her eyes, quick and stabbing. Everything around her seemed too bright, too clear. She felt wrong, too awake somehow, as if her vision should be blurry, and her hearing should be faded, as if she shouldn’t be so aware of the increasingly loud crunching of whoever was inexplicably enjoying hospital food behind her. As if her mind shouldn’t be so clear, her emotions so well-controlled. With each memory flash, each crunch of reality, she felt the music in her life fade, the stale, crisp hospital white-noise absorbing it, like a vortex in slow-motion, leaving nothing but the quiet.
“Honey”, a nurse called. She looked up. The nurse had kind eyes. He tilted his head to the left, then walked off in that direction. She followed him, with only Camila at her side. They arrived at a white room, with a flickering light and a metallic sting. He sat her down on the bed, and called in the doctor. The doctor looked over her file, briefly looking up at her, then closed it, took a deep breath and stood facing her and Camila. “Let’s begin with what I believe will be a relief”, she said. “You are not pregnant”. A wave of emotion flooded through her, her eyes welling up with tears that were waiting to be shed for the worst news imaginable. She steadied herself on the bed, her only reaction expressed in a short laugh escaping her mouth, empty of any humor. She looked up at the doctor, gently wiping her tears and waiting to hear the rest. The doctor locked eyes with her, as though telepathically trying to prepare her for what’s next. She sighed, and said “However, the rape kit was”, she paused, as though her next words tasted sour in her mouth, “inconclusive”. The woman contained her reaction rather well, the only sign of the weight pulling her soul to the ground in the slight slump of her shoulders. She blinked, unsurprised, but also disappointed, moving her gaze from the doctor to the ground, to another place. The doctor saw everything she was feeling, and ached in a way only people who knew such a truth and could do little about it could ache. The doctor carried on, but her mind was already elsewhere. In another place. With another voice. Crackling through. Like a pilot’s incomprehensible jumble of words during rough turbulence. “The DNA results did not produce a conclusive result”, the doctor continued, her words interrupted by flashes, jabs of hands on her body, “and though your injuries” – jab – “when you came in are” – jab – “a clear” – jab – “indication” – jab – “of” – jab – “assault” – jab. She blinked. “We are unable to identify who assaulted you with medical certainty”, the doctor finished.
Just like that.
Oblivion.
As the woman felt her resolve slipping away, the room seemed to follow suite, with everything sharply disappearing into a vacuum of nothingness. Noise, color, clarity. All at once. The doctor ached with it, with her.
“Celine”, she started saying, moving towards her.
No, Celine thought, her body expressing that immediately. She moved her head away from the doctor, lifting her arm up to stop the doctor’s approach. The doctor stopped, not retreating, but not advancing either. Celine took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, exhaling every single thought in her mind. As she opened them again, keeping her mind devoid of any semblance of thinking, she looked up at the doctor once more. Her empty eyes fooled no one. She didn’t lie often, but when she did, it was always her eyes that betrayed her. They could not conceal her truth, because, deep down, she did not want it to be concealed. Her eyes poured everything she felt into the quiet room, filling every inch of space in it, for both the doctor and Camila to see. No one acknowledged it. After a single heartbeat, she broke eye contact with the doctor, got up off the cot, and walked out.