Name: DW
Email: dooge83@yahoo.com
Story Title: The Ingènue
Short Description: A young rape victim turns to Adam during her trial, but is afraid to reveal her secrets.
Rating: NC 17,M/F
Prologue
She was tired---tired of living, tired of going on. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and make her way back home to carry out her plan. She didn't want anyone to notice, not even her closest circle of friends.
She was only sixteen.
Her legs were in the stirrups and they were so cold. She desperately wanted to take them out, but the doctor insisted that she keep them in there. She knew the drill, but she didn't feel comfortable with it. And with good reason, too.....
He injected her with some kind of sedative, so potent that she was almost immediately immobile. It became a nightmare for her to endure all that pain and not even know it. When she woke up, all she could see were the black and blue bruises on her legs and pelvis....and it further increased her desire for suicide. All those feelings of anger, heartache, loneliness, resentment, and disappointment were now replaced by two new words: violation and depression.
She was only sixteen.
No one believed her when she mentioned it happening. This was a respected doctor---how could he have done it to one of his patients? The sick bastard knew what he was doing to her. She could have consented, they all said, and it was all in her head. Or maybe they believed her memory bank filed for bankruptcy and closed. But she definitely thought that someone stopped payment on their reality checks. He claimed that he loved all females and never wanted to hurt her. She figured he was lying. She was only sixteen.
If the child she was carrying nine months later had not been stillborn, she would not have taken the chance to swallow a full bottle of barbiturates and carry out her own death sentence. She was only sixteen.....
But she wasn't dead yet.
********************
Egypt Magnusson---Gypsy for short---lived in the middle-sized rustic area known as Winston-Salem, North Carolina, for most of her life. She was a proud girl, but not haughty---her grandmother always told her that pride was what their family had and vanity the others. It sounded remarkably biased, but she took a lot of her grandmother's words to heart.
She was raised by her grandmother after her parents died in a fire when she was six, and her older brother Vernon, a diagnosed schizophrenic, had been institutionalized after killing a family of four when she was ten. He was seventeen at the time, and she never got the chance to give him visits because her grandmother thought she was too young to see him and it would scare her, which she later begrudged. When she finally did get the chance to see him she was fourteen years old, and it was his twenty-first birthday. There was no denying that they were happy, but it would be the only time she would ever see him---they were given only two hours to celebrate together.
Later that night, orderlies found his body hanging from the door of his room, his bedsheet made into a noose.
Distraught, she and her grandmother moved out of North Carolina and started a new life in Canada, particularly in Toronto where she took up an obsession with ice hockey. She had rollerskated since she was four, but the ice was so different. Despite this, her aggression and determination made her a force to be reckon with on the women's team. She also was a straight A-student at the high school and made the honor roll several times. As always, however, every successful high had to be undercut by a staggering low.
The night of her championship game against neighboring Montreal, her grandmother had fallen down the stairs and lapsed into unconsciousness. The team won, but it was bittersweet---when she got to the hospital, the doctors told her that her life-long caretaker and guiding light was close to dying. She ran into her grandmother's room and cried bitterly over her nearly lifeless body.
"Gram," she sobbed, "it's Gypsy. I know you can't hear me, but....I know that you love me. And even in the past you still stuck by me after I didn't want you near me. I knew you meant that you loved me when you told me this morning, and.....and I love you, too."
Moments later, she slipped away without the ability to wake up and speak to her young granddaughter.
Now Egypt was seventeen and in the hospital late at night, lying in her bed as she vomited the last of the pills she swallowed in an attempt to kill herself, lurching uncontrollably with stabbing pains in her stomach.