Chapter Nine
Marshall
Margret wanted to call in work to stay home and help but it would do her more good if she were at work. I called into the bank, telling them what happened and that the next week or so I won’t be in due to the break-in and all the legal problems that come with it. My assistant manager, Carol, will take over until I am back. Once Margret left for work I called the police. They had left a card with the officer who was called to the scene and a number.
I couldn't sit. Even if I wanted to the couch was ruined. I saw the police cruiser pull up to my house. I went to the door and greeting the officer. “Hello Officer.” I held my hand out for a friendly shake. He shook my hand, nodding. He looked around my age, early 40’s with salt and pepper hair that’s covered by his police cap. “Mr. Crawford, I’m Officer Angel, I was the officer on scene last night when your neighbors called. Can you tell me why you were out of town?” I nodded. “We had a family emergency at my mother’s house. She lives in New Jersey so we spent the day there.”
He nodded. “May I see the rest of the house?” I let him inside. As he inspected, he started writing everything down. He spoke while he did so. “Mr. Crawford, do you have any idea of who would want to do this to you and your family?”
“I have a very good idea. There’s this not so good college kid that’s been harassing my daughter.” He stood up from kneeling, looking at the ruined couch, looking at me. “Have a name?” I nodded, getting my daughters phone from my pocket, showing him Brent’s Facebook. “Brent Mitchel.”
He took the phone, looking through the Facebook. “Are there texts on here?”
“Many and most of them are not so good. That was a family emergency. Once we found out about this guy and Morgan, she didn't want to tell us but she opens up to her grandmother easily. We thought it would be a good idea to go up there for the day, get everything sorted out.” The officer nodded.
“I’ll check the place for finger prints; see if any texts match to the crime then we can start pressing charges.”
“Of course.” He called for backup for evidence and clean up and protection in the chance Brent came back to the crime scene. Within twenty minutes two other officers were in my house, all walking around, getting what prints they could. One of them found an empty spray paint can thrown behind the couch. There was some prints on the doorknob. Then they took in the damage. Asking more questions and I complying with them in the inventory of the chaos and property damage.
Seven windows broken. Two plate sets and glassware sets. One sectional couch. One flat screen TV. Four outdoor cushions. A stuffed bear, pig and stuffed peter rabbit. Sheet set. Picture frames, not to mention all the legal cost Brent will no doubt have to pay. They took her phone as evidence as well. “Mr. Crawford, would you be willing to come down to the station for some questioning?”
I frowned. “Am I in some sort of trouble?”
“No. Not at all. Just some questions about your daughter and her relation to this Brent. Texts can only tell so much.”
“Of course.” I saw them putting up police tape over the door and around the outside of the house. I ran my hands through my hair. This was too much. My house has become a crime scene.
Once at the station they offered me some tea and led me to an interrogation room. Officer Angel came a little while later with pictures, no doubt printed from her phone. “Mr. Crawford, How old is your daughter?” He asked as he sat down. I swallowed my tea. “Turned fifteen in April.”
He nodded. “Were you aware of her relationship with Brent during that time?”
“No sir. I only knew that she changed. I just thought it was a typical rebelous phase."
“What do you mean by changed?”
I sighed. “She used to be in the science club, and won lots of contests and school tournaments. She used to crack jokes a lot too, she had a lot of fire. But during this year she stopped the science club, she started to withdraw from us, and her friends, and started misbehaving, getting quiet, and acting out and we didn't know why or what was causing it. Every time we tried to talk to her, she would talk around it or get on the defensive. And now that we do know, it’s awful. I’ve never felt so helpless.” He nodded.
“Brent, has he had any sexual relations with your daughter?”
“That I’m aware of... Yes. And it wasn't consensual.”
“You think he sexually assaulted her?”
“Without a doubt. The other day while I was at work she snuck out and Mason, my son found her at this drug house about an hour or so away from here. She was beaten black and blue and nearly unconscious. We got her to the hospital and found out she was roofied not too long before.”
“Was Brent there at the house?”
“From what Mason has told me, no, he wasn't. He must have been in class.”
“You said your son, Mason found her?”
“Yes. He’s seventeen.”
“Is he in school now?”
“Yes.”
“Would it be ok if I spoke with him and your daughter after school?”
“Of course. I can have my wife pick them up.” The officer sighed. “Now Mr. Crawford, you realize the accusations you saying are very serious? Especially for a college kid. It could ruin his possible career.”
I gave him a look. “Of course why wouldn't they be serious? He hurt my daughter. I want justice.”
“Of course, I understand but it’s going to require some investigation so it might be a while until we have some actual answers. Are you alright with that?” I nodded. “Whatever it takes.” “Good. I’ll go check on the lab results of the paint can and get back to you. Make yourself comfortable.” He walked out. I sighed, calling Margret, letting her know everything.
It was hours later, once school let out. I paced, waiting for them. Margret had sent a text about thirty minutes ago that they were on their way. Suddenly the door opened, it was Officer Angel. “Mr. Crawford, your family is here if you would like to see them.” I quickly left the room, seeing them in the hall. Margret hugged me before speaking. “How is it going?”
“I think it’s going pretty well but they do have to investigate the accusations.”
“Of course.” The officer cleared his throat. We all looked. He continued. “May I speak to Mason?” Mason frowned. “Am I in trouble?” The officer shook his head. “Just a few questions, please step inside.”
We watched from the two-way mirror as Mason was questioned, telling them what happened when he found her, the address, and the hospital she went to. Guess they have to pull some medical records. Margret was holding Mikey so he could see. He frowned. “Is Mason in trouble? Did he do something bad?”
Margret smiled. “No sweetie, he’s just telling the officer about Morgan’s not-so-nice boyfriend so that way they can catch him.” I saw Morgan, looking scared and small. I wrapped my arm around her. “Hey, it’ll be ok. You'll get justice.” She sighed. “I just want him to leave me alone.” I held her close as we watched them question Mason before he was let out, shaking the officer's hand. Mason then came into the room with us, the officer speaking. “Morgan?” I felt her tense, she nodded, looking at the officer and following him into the interrogation room.
Morgan
God, I was so terrified. What if the officer thinks I’m faking? What if I say the wrong thing? Will I be put in jail? I sat down and he offered me some water. “Water? You look nervous.” I swallowed. “I am.”
“You’re not in any trouble, you know that right?” I just nodded. The officer frowned. “Look, this guy isn't a good apple and we want to bring him to justice, that’s all. Now, how long have you known this Brent Mitchel?”
“About a year.”
“Was he controlling or abusive in the beginning?” My palms were sweaty; I kept rubbing them on my jeans. “A little but I thought he was just like... OCD or something. But then it got worse. He didn't want me in the science club, he didn't want me talking to my friends, I could only hang with his friends, and if I did something wrong or that he didn't like he would hurt me.”
“Your father and Mason both claim that he has sexually assaulted you.” I nodded, feeling my eyes water, remembering the horrible experiences. “Yes. Most of the time I put up a fight so he started drugging me a lot, wanted me relaxed and not able to fight.”
“Now when your brother found you, this was only about two days ago, are the bruises still present?”
“I believe so, I haven't really checked.”
“Would you mind if we had a doctor check you over?”
I nodded. “That’s fine.”
“Good. I think we’re all done here.” Once he stood up and opened the door, I almost bolted out of it. I needed air.
I ran out into the hall, trying not to hyperventilate but God it felt like everything was closing in, I was breathing fast and shallow. I nearly jumped when I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder, turning me around. He always knew how to calm me down. He held my arms, keeping me still. “Hey, sweetie, it’s ok. Just breathe with me, ok? Can you do that? In and out...”
We breathed in a few times then I started to calm, wiping at my face. I sniffled. “Sorry, I kind of lost my head.” He hugged me. “It’s ok. Let’s just go get to the doctor of theirs.”
The doctor checked me over, checking the process of the bruises that were still on me. They even did a rape kit, which wasn't a surprise but it was awful. The doctor was nice. He was young and very sweet and had so much patience. I know I wasn't helping with my anxiety. Once he was done I went to my mom who was sitting on the couch in the main office, if you call it that.
The doctor talking to my dad and going by their faces, it didn't seem likely Brent would be put away for sexual assault which is what I feared and what I knew. Brent might have been a monster but he was a smart monster. He always used a condom. Said he didn't want another me running around, he can barely tolerate the one but it’s also a way of hiding evidence of any kind. Damn smart bastard.
My dad walked over to us, the doctor following. The doctor sighed as my dad moved over to stand with us. Then the doctor spoke. “Everything looks good. No signs of pregnancy or miscarriage. Bruises are healing nicely, no broken bones or bruised muscle but there wasn't any evidence of rape. No semen sample or traces of it could be found. We talked to the hospital and got the same answer.” I swallowed my nerves, speaking up. “In the times I could remember, when I wasn't drugged. He used a condom. I think he used them a lot.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll put it in the file. I’m sorry there wasn't more I could do.” “Are we able to go home now? Can we start cleaning our house?” My dad said, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. The doctor nodded. “Just check with the Officer first.”
Finally we were able to go home. The police said they would let us know once they had Brent in custody and cleaning could start when we wanted.
Marshall
I felt like another panic attack was creeping up on me. There was so much to think of and to clean. So much to replace. Just when will we have our house back? Margret was holding Mikey’s hand, who was looking tired and miserable. Poor thing is probably hungry and missed his normal nap time after school. As we all walked out to the car, I spoke up. “Well, we have alot of cleaning ahead of us. Why don’t you kids stay at Charles and Beth’s again-”
“No Dad, I want to help.” Morgan suddenly said.
We all looked to her and she seemed nervous. “I mean it’s not fair making just you two clean. And I’m partly responsible for it and I don’t care what you say. We should all help. It’s our home.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. What she said.”
Margret smiled, now holding Mikey in her arms, asleep. “We can drop Mikey off once we go out for dinner at Charles and Beth’s place and start cleaning. Poor thing has had a long day.” I nodded, feeling a little tension leave, knowing I had the help and support of my family. “Sounds like a great idea. Let’s go find a nice sit down place.”
After dinner, we dropped Mikey off at Charles and Beth’s place across the street. He was already asleep before we got there. As we headed inside, past the police tape that was still up. Guess it’s safe to take it down now but I can call Officer Angel tomorrow to find out for sure. Morgan spoke up. “Guess this means I’m getting a new phone?” I stopped, thinking. “That would probably be for the best, that way he can’t contact you. We can do that tomorrow after school.” She nodded as I unlocked the door, going into the chaos that is now our house.
We all stopped, taking it in a moment. Then Margret spoke up quietly. “I’ll go get the cleaning supplies.” I nodded to her then saw Morgan and Mason looking around, finally getting a good look at everything. Before everything seemed to happen so fast and so emotional it was hard for everything to sink in. Morgan seemed transfixed on the spray paint on the wall and leading up the hallway stairs. Mason was looking around at the chaos on the ground.
I nearly jumped when Margret touched my shoulder. She found the cleaning supplies. Brooms, boxes of garbage bags, cleaning solutions, gloves. She sighed. “Well, let’s get to work. We should focus on the mess on the floor before we figure out what to do with the walls." I nodded. “One mess at a time.” Morgan walked over. “I can start sweeping up the glass.”
Mason raised his hand. “I’ll help. I can hold the bag open.” Sometimes I’m reminded how proud I am of my kids. They're o smart and mature. Much more well behaved then most other kids today. This only proves that more. Margret and I made sure they weren't spoiled rotten and knew the meaning of hard work and valuing and managing money and looking out for your fellow man as well as a good education. All the things I never had until I ran away.
It took about an hour to clean up the general mess of glass and couch stuffing then I heard Mason from the dining room, trying to stop Morgan from going upstairs to clean her room. I went out to look. Morgan spoke loudly. “Mason, stop. I know it’s bad up there, I’m not stupid.”
“You really don’t. It’s bad, like really bad.”
I went to them. “Mason, let your sister go. If she says she can handle it, she can handle it.” Mason let go of her arm reluctantly and Morgan went right upstairs. I nudged Mason. “Follow her but don’t smother her, she needs to overcome this herself. Only help when she needs it.” He nodded, going upstairs. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. I just wanted this entire mess to be over.
Morgan
I swallowed as I saw my bedroom door. DIE BITCH sprayed painted in neon green across it... I felt my hands shaking but I had to do this. I gently pushed it open, walking carefully inside. I gasped, inhaling as I saw the destruction. So many horrible and harsh words spray painted across my walls. My bed turned over and comforter set shredded in Brent’s rage. I saw my desk. Thankfully I keep my laptop hidden so there’s a good chance its safe.
I walked over to a broken picture frame of me and my family. Glass was all over the rug, bits falling from the frame. I sucked in my lip, trying so hard to be strong.
But it was so hard.
I jumped when I heard footsteps. I tried to calm when I saw it was only Mason, checking on me. “Hey, you doing ok?” I wanted to say yes, to lie and have him go back downstairs but a sob came out instead. He took three long strides over to me, wrapping his arms around me, letting me sob into his shoulder. I felt like I was five years old with my big brother protecting me from whatever hurt me. I might be weak right now but I’m going to get past this. I will grow stronger.