CHAPTER 3

Doctor Kathy Miller was just putting on her coat to go home after a long shift when her cell phone rang. It was Melissa, one of her favorite nurses from the ER.

“Doctor Miller, are you still in the hospital?”

“I was just about to leave, why?”

“I hate to bother you, but we have a patient here who might need your expertise.”

She swore under her breath. It was nothing official, but everyone in the hospital knew that she was the go-to person in sexual assault cases. She wasn’t specifically trained, but she had years of experience working with rape victims and a personality that seemed to soothe and encourage to trust her. Just over forty, she had a maternal air about her and she never judged or acted condescendingly. If her skills were needed now, it meant that down there, in the ER, there was someone who might have just been hurt and broken, and her heart ached for them as it always did. She sighed and sat behind her desk.

“Tell me.”

“Patient brought with a shoulder injury. Bruised wrists and face. Bite marks and scratches. And you know this look in their eyes.”

“Sounds like you’re right. How old is she?”

“It’s a boy. He’s seventeen. And he’s supposed to be examined by doctor Macmillan.”

Kathy winced. A boy – that didn’t happen often here, she remembered maybe a dozen of such cases in her career and they were that much more difficult. And Macmillan – he might be competent, but he was a competent ass, arrogant and, what’s worse, vocally homophobic. It was the worst possible combination in this case.

“Melissa, try to intercept him please, don’t let him anywhere near the patient, don’t give him the file. I’ll be right there.”

�

Five minutes later Kathy entered examination room number three. She was back in her scrubs, patient’s file in hand, the usual warm smile on her kind face. The boy was sitting on the examination table, already in the green paper gown. His eyes were downcast, his face blank. In the harsh hospital lights he looked young, vulnerable and hurt.

A middle-aged, tired-looking man raised from a chair when she entered and came up to her to talk quietly.

“Hi, I’m Burt Hummel.” She took the extended hand. Hummel. The kid’s name was Anderson, so probably not the father. Better to clarify though.

“I’m doctor Miller. Are you family?”

“No, I’m just a father of Blaine’s friend. I happened to answer the phone my son forgot to take when he went away for a few days. Blaine said he was in a fight and needed a ride home but I think there’s more to it.” Burt’s gray eyes were clearly worried as he whispered, “I think… there’s a possibility he was molested. He barely said anything, but I just… Please, take good care of him.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “I will. Mr. Hummel…”

“Please, call me Burt.”

“Burt. Are Blaine’s parent’s coming?”

“I can’t get hold of them. I took their number from Blaine’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. But as far as I know, they are in Europe and he has no other family here.”

“All right, you act as a temporary guardian then. I’m sorry, but I need to ask you – do you know if Blaine is gay?”

The man’s eyes hardened. “Does it make a difference to you? Because if it does, I will ask for another doctor.”

“And you would be right to do so in such case. But no, it makes absolutely no difference to me. It would just help me to know that when I try to approach the topic of possible abuse.”

“Oh. Sorry, I just assumed… Yes, Blaine is gay. So is my son, so I’m kind of used to homophobic reactions, that’s why I snap.”

“It’s okay. I will examine him now, you can wait outside if you want to.”

Burt approached the kid, standing close, but respectful of his personal space.

“Blaine, I’ll be right behind this door if you need me.”

“No, please don’t go!” Panic flashed in the teenager’s amber eyes as he grabbed the man’s hand. Burt looked surprised, but didn’t withdraw it. He looked at Kathy to check if it’s okay. She nodded. The boy could use all the support he could get and if he was comfortable with his friend’s father, all the better.

Burt squeezed Blaine’s hand and sat down. “Okay. I’ll stay with you if you want.”

Kathy focused fully on her patient now. She could see that he was trying with all his might to hold himself together, but he was dead tired. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. If she wanted to talk to him before he shut her out, she’d have to be quick. She approached the table, careful not to make any sudden movements, and kept her voice quiet and level.

“Hello Blaine. I’m doctor Miller and I’d like to look at this shoulder of yours. Can you tell me what happened?”

His answer was mechanical, as if he was repeating a script he didn’t particularly care for.

“I was in a fight. It got twisted.” So this was the official version.

The shoulder turned out to be dislocated, but fortunately just partially. Pain management and a sling, maybe some physical therapy later, was all it needed. After administering painkillers, she proceeded to examine the other injuries. To her experienced eyes, they were clearly sexually related. She counted thirteen bite marks on the boy’s back, some of them vicious and bloody, and there were deep scratch marks just over his hips, four on each side. His wrists were bruised, and not in a way one would expect from simply being held down – the marks were narrow, most likely resulting from ties or handcuffs. Left side of the boy’s face was swollen and bruised, his lower lip bloody where he – or someone else – almost bit through. She didn’t even need additional evidence of the way he winced while sitting and jumped minutely whenever he felt her touch anywhere, to know that this young man was sexually assaulted. His wounds were superficial, they would heal quickly. His psyche was another matter entirely.

Now came the difficult part.

“Blaine, I need to ask you some personal questions. Would you like Mr. Hummel to step outside for this part?”

“No.”

Burt clenched his jaw, as if preparing himself for what he might hear, but nodded.

“Okay then. I need you to be honest with me. I can tell that you have just had sex, probably for the first time in your life.” He didn’t answer, but the way he dropped his eyes told her she was right. “I need to know if it was consensual.”

He hesitated way too long to make the answer believable when it finally came. “Yes.”

“Was it the first time for your boyfriend too?”

He shuddered at boyfriend. “No, I don’t think so.”

“And did he – what’s his name?...”

“Eric.” He answered quickly, automatically this time, before he caught himself. This trick worked almost every time.

“So did Eric use protection? I need to know if there’s any risk of STDs to consider.”

“He did.” Thank God for the small mercies.

“Good.” She moved to examine the injuries on Blaine’s face. Touching the bruise there, she looked straight into the amber eyes and said quietly, “He hit you. You said no, didn’t you?”

The first silent sob shook the hunched form. She touched one of the bruised wrists next.

“And these are ligature marks. If you’re not into kinky stuff, and I don’t believe many people are during their first time, they mean you were restrained. He forced you, didn’t he?” Burt had raised to stand by Blaine’s side the second he showed the first sign of breaking down. He looked positively sick now, fury almost crackling around him.

There were more sobs, and the broken yes was almost lost among them. Burt moved quickly, his emotions miraculously in check for now, and laid his hand on the boy’s uninjured shoulder. When Blaine didn’t withdraw, the man pulled him into a careful hug. He sank into it, shaking with sobs. Kathy gave them a minute before she spoke again, as gently as she could.

“Blaine, it was rape. You need to report it.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“No, nonono, I can’t, please, please don’t make me!” The boy worked himself up into panic in a matter of seconds.

“Okay, Blaine, shh, nobody’s going to make you do anything. Shh, breathe, you need to calm down. Breathe.”

After a while his breathing finally evened out, but tears were still flowing. She felt bad that she had to do what she was going to do next, but it was necessary. “Blaine, nobody can make you report the attack, but I want to leave this way open for you. It’s the best thing to do. And if we don’t think about it now, it will most likely be too late to act effectively when you decide to press charges. I’ll tell you what we can do, just listen and think about it, okay?”

The boy nodded weakly.

“I’ll give Mr. Hummel two phone numbers for you. One is a contact to a good counselor – you may not think about it now, but you will need therapy to help you come to terms with what happened. The other – it’s for a police officer specializing in sexual crimes. She is also my friend. Believe me, she will understand. When you are ready – not if, Blaine, when – you will call her and she will take your statement. She will already have mine. But in order to do this, I will need to document your injuries, all of them. And I will need to do it now, while they are still fresh.”

“No, I can’t do this. Please. I just want to go home...”

“Blaine, I need you to be strong just a little bit longer. I know it’s painful and scary, but it’s necessary. I’ll be gentle and finish this as fast as I can, I promise. Tell me, do you have a place or a person that makes you feel safe?”

“Kurt,” the answer was immediate. Burt’s eyebrows raised and he looked funny at the boy.

“Kurt then. I want you to think about him now. What does he do that makes you feel most comfortable and safe?”

Blaine’s eyes were closed now. “He sings. His voice makes me warm and happy.”

“Good. Now, imagine Kurt singing, focus on this image. I need you to relax and not think about what I’m doing. Can you try?”

He did. It helped. She measured, photographed, described and took samples, and the boy sat there focused on his inner world, changing positions when she asked him. Even during the worst of it, he didn’t flinch, though tears were silently flowing down his face. All through the process, he held Burt’s hand so tightly that his knuckles were white, while the man stood with his eyes focused on a wall, to grant Blaine some privacy. His eyes looked haunted.

When Kathy finished documenting and cleaning every injury, she helped the boy get dressed and told him she would just talk to Mr. Hummel outside for a minute and then he could go home. He just nodded, looking tortured and dead tired.

�

Outside with Burt, Kathy asked, “So what happens with Blaine now? He really shouldn’t be alone.”

“He won’t, he’s coming home with me and will stay with us until his parents come back. I already talked to my wife before you came. Kurt’s not there, but it’s better than an empty house.”

Kurt? Burt’s son was Blaine’s safe person then? Too bad he was away, he could really help.

“Good. He’s ready to go then, you just need to pick up painkillers from the pharmacy on your way out. And I need to warn you that it can be difficult for this boy to deal with what happened to him. You can expect him to struggle. He may be different – distant, defensive, absent, angry, depressed, blaming himself… it could manifest in many different ways. You have to be very patient with him. He needs support, safety. Give him space, but be there for him.

“And here are the contacts I mentioned. The sooner he’s ready to use them, the better. Try to gently encourage him to do so and tell his parents to do the same later. But no forcing – he needs to know that he still has a right to say no, even though someone tried to take it away from him. It’s a delicate situation that may influence this boy’s whole life. I hope it works out.”

“Thank you, doctor. I’ll go get him now.”

“Goodbye, Burt.”

When she looked at him just before he went back into the room, his face was infinitely gentle and caring. If she didn’t know better, she would assume he was there for his own child, the way he reacted. Blaine was lucky to have someone like that beside him in this ordeal.