“Esben . . .” I want to take him in my arms, but I stay where I am. I think it’s taking all he has to be able to speak these words, and I want to respect his space.
“Later, when I was ready to go home, I went looking for her. I searched the entire house, and I couldn’t find her. So, I asked around and searched again. The only reason I finally found her is because I heard her crying. She’d shut herself in a closet in one of the bedrooms. When I got to her, she was on the floor.” When he finally looks at me, his eyes are red, and his words are broken and full of pain when he forces them out.
“It took me all of two seconds to see how terrified she was. My sister could hardly breathe because of her fear and her panic. I had to help her stand. How awful is that? But I did. She couldn’t move. Then? The minute I got her into the light, I could see . . . I could see blood. She had on pale pants, and there was no hiding it.” He inhales sharply and reaches for my hand. “Christ, Allison, in the half hour that I’d left her alone, she’d been assaulted by both of them. They each . . . took a . . . turn.” Esben’s grip on my hand tightens. “Is that the right word? I don’t know. Turn. It’s so disgusting. Shows how little they thought about her. Like she didn’t even matter. Like she meant nothing. Like she wasn’t a human being. Like she wasn’t my sister, the most vibrant, perfect, trusting girl in the world. One held her down and covered her mouth, while the other—” He can’t say the words, and I don’t blame him.
“Dear God.” Kerry, I think. Not Kerry. Not anybody.
“Even then, even as young as I was, and as little as I could really comprehend what’d gone on, I knew how wrong it was. I’m not sure I knew enough to think ‘rape,’ though. How goddam stupid is that? I was just so terrified, and . . . I didn’t want what happened to be real, so I think I blocked it out to a degree. All I wanted was to make it not true.”
“Of course you did.”
“As much as I wanted to beat the living hell out of these guys, I had to get her out of there immediately. I carried her to the car in my arms. I’m sure people thought I was just taking my dumb, drunk sister home . . . I wanted to take her to the hospital, to the police. Somewhere. But she wouldn’t let me. The idea started uncontrollable crying, and she made me promise not to. She made me promise not to tell anyone. Not our parents, not the cops, nobody. My agreeing was the only thing that stopped her from losing it. So, I parked the car a mile from home, and I held her until just before our curfew, when we knew our parents would be in bed and we could get in unseen. She took a shower, and I threw her clothes in a trash bag.”
He rubs his eyes. “I sat next to her bed all night, but I don’t think she slept. The next week, I sent one of them to the emergency room. Broken cheekbone. I got suspended for five days, and I’m probably lucky that he didn’t file charges. First and only time I’ve been in a fight. The other guy kept far away from Kerry and me after that. She and I didn’t talk about what happened. Not for over a year. We were young, and I was too stupid to know that I should have taken her to the hospital right away. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. Oh God, Allison, I didn’t know what to do, and so I did everything wrong.”
There is such desperation and apology in his face, and I want nothing more than to take those away. To give him peace. But I know that I cannot do that. I cannot fix this. I can only be here.
“You were, what, sixteen? Basically a kid. Of course you didn’t know what to do. You must have been overwhelmed and frightened to your core. I don’t think anyone is prepared for what to do in that kind of crisis. Both of you were traumatized.”
“I should have done better,” he says forcefully before taking a long drink. “I love her. That was my baby sister. While I was fooling around with a girl for the first time, she was in the room next to me, being sexually assaulted.”
The bluntness of his words—their truth—is not easy to hear. “Esben, you couldn’t have known. If you’d thought anything was amiss, you wouldn’t have left her. She was in a full house, with people all over the place. You were a kid,” I say again. “I know how much she means to you. I know you would do anything for her. This was not your fault.”
“I took her to that party! I took her to that party! If I hadn’t . . .” His entire body is shaking hard. “That’s the truth. It’s undeniable. If I hadn’t made her go to that party . . . but I didn’t know. Allison, I didn’t know that would happen! I would never have—”
“You didn’t let these two guys rape her. They did what they did because they felt entitled. Because they wanted control. Because they were aggressive and awful. Because they wanted to feel some screwed-up sense of manhood. Because . . . I don’t know. Because they had a million kinds of wrong running through them. You did not make them rapists. Kerry did not make them rapists. They were already sick, and Kerry got caught in their path.”
He pulls my hand, and I move closer to him. Esben holds eye contact as though I am keeping him from falling apart, and I am fully aware of how reliant he is on me in this moment. It’s another first for me. I’ve never been needed like this, but I can be strong for him.
“This was not your fault,” I say again, more firmly. “This is the sole fault of two messed-up boys. That’s it. Kerry also wanted you to understand something. She said that she is okay. She stressed that. I have the feeling that you don’t believe her, but she needs you to believe that she is as healed as possible after this. She has to know that and that you trust in her.”
“Okay.” His whisper reminds me of a small child. So innocent, so fragile, so dependent on what I’m telling him. “When she got to Andrews, she found a really good counselor here. Scott. He’s great. I’ve gone with her a bunch. He’s helped.”
“Good.”
“She’s done a lot of work.”
“Also good. And she has a brother who adores her.” I rub his arm.
He nods. “Yes.”
It hits me that Esben is also a survivor of this rape. We generally think about the effects on those who survive trauma—which, of course, we should—but we don’t always think about the effects on the indirect victims. It’s clear to me now that we should.
My phone has been blowing up with texts, which I’ve ignored, but Esben nudges me and even cracks a smile. “Better check those.”
They’re all from Kerry.
Are you with him? Is he okay? I assume he’s told you everything by now.
I want him to know that I’m happy. I really am.
I could not ask for a better brother. Never. He is my world. Tell him that, okay?
Allison, where are you? Please answer me. I’m freaking out. I don’t want Esben reliving this. It will always be a part of me, but it will not define me. It does not cage me. It DOES not.
Show him these messages, okay?