"I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending."

Spencer.

The drive back home in the schools stolen minibus is eerily silent. Jameson is behind the wheel, Maja in the passenger seat. Thea, Xander and Avery are up the back. I'm sitting directly in the middle, Noah's the row behind me, just watching me intently.

Maja hasn't spoken since we left. She's staring out the front window, her face unreadable. I'm not sure what's worse — the quiet or the fact that I can't read her, can't figure out what's going on in her head.

The only sound is the gentle singing on the radio, quiet enough to not be heard but loud enough to provide some breakage to the silence. A few cars pass us in the dead of night, likely people working the night shift. It's a daunting reminder of how everything continues on in life. The world doesn't stop when something like this happens.

"I'm gonna call Nash and Gray." Jameson murmurs, asking Noah to take the wheel. My boyfriend nods swiftly and takes the wheel. 

I try not to listen to Jameson's conversation, but it's hard because everyone else is silent.

"I don't know." He mutters. 

"Yeah Xan's here." He confirms, "And Ave." Jameson adds after a moment. "Maja, Noah and Thea too." He sighs after a beat.

"Like an hour now." 

His voice tells me two things, one: he's exhausted, and two: he feels responsible for what happened. 

"How was I meant to know?" He raises his voice a little. There's a louder voice muffled over the phone. "Did you know?" Jameson demands, knowing the answer is no. "Nobody knew." I mutter, all eyes falling on me.

"Yeah.. yeah.. we'll see you there." Jameson mumbles, hanging up the second he can and sinking into the seat beside me. 

I shuffle closer to the window so there's space for both of us. 

Jameson doesn't speak, he opens his mouth but it clamps shut when he realizes he has nothing to say to make this better.

"I should've seen something. I should've known what was happening." My brother whispers shakily, not making an attempt to provide comfort because he knows nothing ever will.

"How could you have? I made sure you didn't." I'm not entirely sure if my voice is even there, the confines of my tight chest making every word strained.

"I'm supposed to notice these things, Spence. I'm your brother." His voice is a little louder, not aggressive or angry, just firmer. 

"I've gotten pretty good at keeping secrets." I muffle, pushing tears off my red cheeks, only for them to be replenished in less than an instant.

"I've never wanted you to feel like you have to hide anything from me... I don't care what it is, Spence. I just... I'm supposed to protect you." His voice is tender and raw.

I slowly turn my gaze towards him, observing the tears in his eyes, refusing to drip down so he can remain strong.

"I protected myself.." I trail off, realizing the words are no longer even remotely true. "Until I couldn't." 

The tears in his eyes slip out, but he's quick to swat them away, staring at me with agony. "I'm sorry." I bawl, my voice shredding.

"Don't." He instantly shakes his head, holding his arms out for me. He doesn't pull me in like he normally would, he just lets me fall into his hold on my own. The second my face hits his chest, his arms cradle me instantly.

"Shhh.. I promise it'll all be okay." He whispers, voice wet with tears. "You're okay." He hushes woefully. 

"I don't feel okay." I sob hysterically against him. The silence stretches on, he truly has no words to say. He can't make anything better.

"You will." His voice is sorrowful and barely above a whisper.

I feel his chest rising and falling shakily against my cheek, trying to find composure but falling short.

I sniffle against his chest, praying his words are true. 

Every breeze of cold air takes me back to the feeling of running through the woods away from him. Every brush of skin takes me back to the grasp of his around mine. Every word uttered sends shivers through my whole body tauntingly just as his did. 

"We'll be there soon." He assures me, pulling himself together and ruffling my hair a little. "Where? Home?" I look up to him with pleading eyes.

"We're gonna head to the hospital." He informs me, comfortingly running a warm hand up and down my shoulder.

"What? Why?" I demand, sitting up and attempting to blink past the abundance tears.

"I want them to get evidence so when we take it to court it's more than just his word against yours." He starts calmly, "They'll also help you out with your injuries, and help you psychologically." Jameson tells me slowly.

"Evidence for court? I'm not taking this to court. I'm not talking to anyone about this." I scoff.

"Spencer, please. I know you're not ready to deal with everything, but you have to take care of yourself. They can help you. It's not about the police or anyone else. It's about you — your body and your health." He explains carefully, handling me like a delicate artefact.

"I don't want to talk about it." I raise my voice. "Why not?" Jameson asks calmly, knowing any other approach won't work. "Because if I tell someone I was raped that makes it real." I raise my voice.

"This doesn't change who you are. It doesn't define you. It never will." He swears. 

"Please just wake me up.. Please tell me it's all a bad dream." I weep. My brother just holds me, allowing me to cry, but having nothing to say to make it better.

"We're almost there, Spence." Is all he can say. 

And he was right, because less than 20 minutes after that, we pulled up outside the hospital in the middle of the night.

I force myself down the few stairs until my feet are on solid ground once again. 

Waiting by the doors is Nash and Grayson, along with Oren and what seems to be half the security of Hawthorne House.

Grayson and Nash don't hesitate to grasp me in their arms, holding me tight. I have to remind myself these are my brothers and not Ant Jenkins.

"Are you alright?" Grayson asks, his usual cold and professional tone providing a weird amount of comfort right now. I don't answer that. He knows I'm not.

They all numbly escort me through the hospital doors.

"Excuse me?" I whisper sheepishly to the receptionist. She looks up, nodding for me to say what my issue is.

"I was assaulted." I state, feeling Jameson's hand on my shoulder for comfort.

Noah.

Words can't express what's happened over the past few hours. When did everything get so fucked up?

I had been talking to Spencer on the waterfront, and she was taken away by Mr Jenkins for detention. I encouraged her to go. Fuck. She didn't want to but I told her to. She didn't want to because she knew she had been in a relationship with him and it would be dangerous to follow him. 

It would be stupid to spend my time dwelling on it and constantly blaming myself, but that wouldn't be an effective use of time considering this isn't about me. Though I'm sure I'll carry the weight of causing this for a long time.

Watching my girlfriend be guided inside somewhat of an interview room, being guided behind the glass to watch as they pry out every last detail of the assault from her still tender mind.

The details of him pinning her down and stripping her of every last ounce of her pride whilst she protested brought up harsh and unresolved memories for me. The thought of my own assault replaying in my mind, relating to every word.

I've seen this film before. And I know the ending all too well. I know the deep depression and anxiety that follows an assault. I know the pain and loss of a part of yourself. And I don't want that. Not for her. Preferably not me either. But if I could take all the pain of her experience and carry it on top of my own, I'd do it. Even if it killed me. And that's the problem. 

If I were half a man I would just tell people what happened, get myself some justice, and of course the sex worker forced into doing it to me to protect her family. The real monster still looms over me at all times though. My Father. 

I could stop it from happening to my sister or cousins by telling someone. I could even help Spencer cope by showing her she isn't alone. And most of all, I could gain peace of mind. But I'm not half a man. Not even close. I'm just a boy. A cowardly boy.

I can feel tears in my eyes the whole interview. I won't let them fall though. I share a glance with Jameson, he gives me a knowing stare. He pities me. I'm not entirely sure he knows exactly what happened. But he saw the most of it, and he saw my panic attack after. So he knows enough. But he would also never come forward and share my story. He tells me whenever I'm ready I can report it in my own time and he'll testify. But part of me knows I'll never report it.

I follow the crowd into a different room with a camera set up against a blank wall. My hands slip inside my jacket pockets, the cold of the room mingling with my anxiety to cause a mean chill.

Spencer.

I stare blankly at the floor as everyone around me discusses things. I just had to sit in front of a therapist, doctor and two cops detailing exactly what happened. 

"We're going to run a sexual assault test, but before that we are going to take photos for proof of assault for court." A female cop informs me.

I just nod, beyond even caring what happens, just wanting more than anything to be safe and alone in my own bed.

"The photos will be taken with only one female officer alone with you. There will be a one way mirror window where we will have two offices insuring protocol is followed and also analysing the images taken. In that same room you can have anyone you want, but not nobody because as a minor you are required to have one family member over the age of 18." She lists.

I keep nodding numbly, my arms wrapped around my legs against my chest.

"You want us to be in the room?" Jameson asks gently. "Mhm." I hum, not even processing a thing being said. "All of us?" Nash confirms with hesitation. "I don't care." I blink my eyes off my spot on the ground to scan in everyone watching me with worry.

"Xander, Maja, Jameson, Noah, Thea, Avery. You guys go. Gray and I will stay." Nash settles.

"Are you kidding me?" Jameson yells, I physically flinch at the tone.

"Stop it." Grayson warns, having noticed how on edge I am as it is. "She's my baby sister. I want to know what he did to her so I can fucking kill him." Jameson argues. "She's vulnerable. I don't want any of you seeing her like this. Go home." Nash orders calmly.

"I don't care. Please just stop arguing." I speak a little firmer. "Maja, Avery, Noah, Thea and I can go to the coffee store downstairs." Xander offers.

Noah comes beside me to say his goodbyes. I look to him, pleading with him mentally to just take me home. "I know." He tells me warmly, seeming to understand everything I want. I interlock our hands and squeeze him tight.

"Stay." I whisper hoarsely. He immediately nods, not objecting to anything I ask of him. "Just so I know you're here." I clarify. "I won't look." Noah assures me.

Thea, Avery, Maja and Xander walk out, giving me warm and reassuring smiles as they leave.

The rest of them are taken to the specific room behind the mirror. I know they're behind the mirror but I feel so alone. 

"My name is Officer Redding, I'm a Sexual Offences Department officer. This entire conversation is being taped for legal reasons, we have two other offices watching on the other side as I'm sure you're aware of. They're here to make sure I follow protocol and they will also be looking at the photos I take to ensure they include what's needed. This won't take too long. If you have any questions or concerns you can let me know at any time." Officer Redding tells me.

"Okay Spencer Hawthorne, is that right?" The officer asks compassionately. I nod. "And for the tape, how old are you?" She asks, gesturing to the tape recording from the speakers, being recorded on the other side of the glass.

"17." I clarify flatly. "And when did the rape occur?" 

"Around 7pm?" I guess.

She nods, prepping the camera. I recognise it. I've got the same one from years back within my photography phase.

"Can I ask you to remove your clothing now Spencer?" She asks gently. I nod yet again.

I shiver as I pry off my clothes until I'm left in merely underwear. Looking down at my fully goose-bumped body, now pale from how cold I am mid winter, I sigh when the purple bruises look even more aggressive than hours ago.

"Can you step onto the red 'x' please."

I shake with how cold I am, my body now on autopilot as I float towards the red x.

She starts out taking full body pictures, front, back, left, right. With every click of the camera I break down more and more. Physically trembling with anxiety. My body racking head to toe as breathing becomes harder and my heart pounds faster.

I understand that aside from the forensic test it's normal to have photographic evidence of bruises and things. But seeing each bruise again is like reliving it all.

"Would you be comfortable removing your bra just at the sides for a moment so I can get an image of the bruising around your breasts?" She asks delicately.

I nod, hiccupping breaths that won't come. My whole body shakes as I attempt to unclip my bra.

I have to place a hand over my mouth and nose to muffle the sobs racking through me. I physically can't stop the shaking to the point I can't take my bra off.

In no later than a minute of struggling, Noah steps through the door with a gentle smile.

"Can we get a minute?" He asks the officer, who immediately understands and slips into the room behind the mirror.

"You're okay." He assures me. "You mind if I help?" He asks carefully. Only when I nod does he reach his hands behind me, making sure to stay in front of me. Unclipping my bra for me so my shaking hands don't interfere like they previously had. 

"You need a drink?" He offers, looking over to the mirror. I shrug, completely unsure and oblivious to what I want or need right now.

"That's fine. You want to sit down? There's a chair, have a seat." He tells me calmly.

I sit down on the metal chair, my arms cradling myself again.

"Need anything else?" He offers gently, kneeling in front of the chair.

All I can do is lunge into his body, sobbing against his chest. Immediately Noah reciprocates the hug, wrapping his much more warm arms around my smaller body.

"You're doing so good." He assures me. "I can't. I can't stay any longer.. please- please take me home." I plead in distraught tears.

"Shhh.. you're gonna get a couple last photos of you. I'm gonna stand right here and then we're gonna go into another room and they'll take a test but I promise it won't take long. And if you want, I can hold your hand the whole time, or one of your brothers, or anyone you need. The second they're done I'll drive you home and you can go straight to bed. I know you're tired, but you just need to wait a little longer." He promises me.

"I can't.. please Noah." I beg in sobs, his hold on me tightens and he clings to me now.

"You trust me?" He whispers. I mumble a 'mhm' sound, "Trust me then when I say you won't be here much longer. If they don't get these tests then there's no forensic proof of what happened and that could be the thing that stops him going to prison." He explains.

"Why do I have to go through all of this when he's the once that did it?" I sob. "It's not fair. But the second he's rotting away in jail he'll get his punishment." Noah agrees. 

I let him wipe my tears and step back as the officer returns to capture a final image of the bruising on my breasts, using the remaining bra on me to cover me up as much as possible.

When I'm done, Noah comes to my side and re clasps my bra in an instant. He helps me redress and then escorts me back into the hallway where I reunite with Nash, Grayson and a rather rattled looking Jameson.

"You okay?" I ask him with furrowed brows, the others look to him and he glances around all of us. "Me? Yeah, I'm good." He quickly mends his falter and offers an encouraging smile.

The doctors take me into a separate room alone where they take forensic samples, telling me they'll be transferred to the lab, and they'll convert the samples to evidence.

Alone in my room, I slip all my clothes off, forcing my feet to stand before the mirror. I've stared at this mirror for years, hating what I saw. But now I can officially say, nothing will ever surmount to the disgust and hatred I feel right now. Bruises. Tear stains. Smeared makeup. Not to mention the stress bloating.

At least my therapist has job security now.