Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

was supposed to get from jail, I didn’t have anyone I could call. Sherman, I suppose, but I didn’t have a clue how to reach him. And if I called him, he’d probably be with Carrie and Alex. And I didn’t want to drag them into this. Not any more than I already had.
    My eyes pricked with tears, and I turned away from the other men in the cell.
    Tears because I was going to miss her. Tears because even though I knew I was doing the right thing, it was breaking my heart all over again. And I knew it would do the same to her.
    It would have been better if Roberts had lived. It should have been me.
    I closed my eyes, and pictured her long, lush brown hair, her deep green eyes, the tilt of her lips, her cheeks and neck, her beautiful spirit and her loud, free laugh. And I thought that if I had to live without her, I didn’t want to live at all.

    Now it’s my turn (Alex)

    “We’re going with her,” Carrie told the police. “She is not going alone with you to the hospital. I’m her sister, and Kelly’s her best friend.”
    The police officer looked uncomfortable, but finally agreed.
    Carrie turned to Sherman.
    “Ray, you take Joel, and go down to the police station, and see what you can find out about Dylan. Call me as soon as you know anything?”
    Sherman nodded, took out his phone. “Let me get your number,” he said.
    She gave it to him, and Sherman came over and squeezed my arm.
    “We’ll talk later, okay. I know you’re shaken up, but remember, he loves you. We all do… we’re sort of family now, okay?”
    My eyes teared up again. I’d not even known Sherman a day, and he was being incredibly kind. Impulsively, I reached out and hugged him.
    Then I said, “Take care of Dylan, okay? Let us know, as soon as you know anything.”
    “I will,” he said, patting my back.
    Joel reached over and squeezed my shoulder, then kissed Kelly on the cheek. The two of them turned and left the building.
    Half an hour later I was at the hospital. Carrie held my hand while the doctors did the examination. The rape kit . I’d made it clear that he hadn’t succeeded, but the police were insistent. While the doctor was doing the exam, I stared off at the wall, tears running down my face. It was hideously uncomfortable, and more so, it was humiliating, to a degree I’d never imagined.
    But that was nothing to the police interview.
    It happened in a borrowed office in the hospital, and because they were both considered witnesses, neither Carrie nor Kelly were allowed to stay with me during the questioning. In fact, both of them were being questioned, too.
    The office was cramped, and I was sitting, exhausted, with a cup of stale, burnt-tasting coffee in my hand.
    “Have a seat, Miss Thompson,” said one of the officers, a somewhat florid, overweight man who introduced himself as Sergeant Campbell.
    “We’re trying to sort out this mess, and we’d like you tell us, in as much detail as possible, exactly what happened tonight.”
    I did, starting with the two dates I’d had with Randy last spring. The whole time I was talking, Campbell was taking notes, and didn’t interrupt me. I fought to stay composed. I was still in shock, and frustrated, and angry. Especially angry that for the second time, Randy had used physical force against me and I’d done nothing to stop it. Nothing to turn him away. Dylan shouldn’t have had to come to my rescue like that. And if I’d been able to handle it on my own, he wouldn’t have needed to.
    “Okay, I’ve got some questions,” Campbell said. “Starting with… You say he assaulted you once before. Why didn’t you report it then?”
    I could feel my face flush. I stared down at the floor, and kind of shrugged, and said, “I guess I was ashamed. I’d been drinking, and I thought I knew him better than that, and… I don’t know exactly why. I just wanted it to be over. And I thought it was, until a few weeks ago.”
    “What happened a few weeks ago to change your mind?”
    “Randy showed up at the 1020 Bar and started to harass me. When he wouldn’t let go of me, Kelly pepper-sprayed him and the bouncer threw him out.”
    Campbell frowned, then said, “That’s twice now you’ve told me you were drinking. Underage.”
    I nodded, looking away.
    “What about tonight? Were you drinking?”
    “No.”
    “Why not? You were drinking with him last spring, and again at the 1020 Bar, why not last night?”
    “My boyfriend doesn’t drink. I didn’t want to make