Tara hesitated by the entrance for a moment, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. 

"It'll be fine," she whispered. "I can do it."

As soon as she stepped inside, the pungent odor of alcohol and sweat assaulted her airways. Her eyes watered, and she choked on her breath. Once the coughs subsided, the faint hum of a fan barely masked the silence that engulfed the space.

A dim light flickered in the corridor, casting long shadows against the peeling walls. A few weary and disheveled officers were scattered throughout the room. A couple sat slumped in their chairs, dozing off, while another leaned against the desks, his eyes glazed with exhaustion.

Boxes were stacked atop each other, with words scribbled over them in red marker, some of their contents spilling out onto the floor. Upon closer inspection as Tara passed, it became evident that they were labeled with various contraband items that had been confiscated during recent raids or arrests, awaiting processing or disposal.

Everyone seemed unfazed by the disarray surrounding them and hardly paid her any attention until she stopped by the desk of the only one still awake where the air was thick with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke.

The officer, with dark circles under his eyes, looked up from his paperwork. His gaze lingered for a moment before returning to his task.

"How can I help you?" He rushed out, half-heartedly. It was a robotic, automated question, spoken out of obligation rather than genuine concern. Tara idled by his desk, unsure of what to do. "What brings you here, Miss?"

"I've been...raped," she mumbled.

He paused, glanced up, then gestured to the chair beside her. "I'm sorry to hear that," he started, offering her a cup of water which she hastily gulped while he scribbled something on a paper. As soon as she set the glass down, he spoke again, "Can you tell me in detail what happened before, during, and after the incident?"

Tara balled her fists, and a muscle in her jaw ticked. Forcing the words out, she shared the gist of everything that had happened to her. Kidnapped, raped, released. By the time she finished, her leg was bouncing, her hands were shaking, and her face was red. She wanted to evaporate as if she never existed.

He scribbled some more before asking her the date, time, and location of the incident which she relayed. A couple of cards scattered by the edge of the desk caught her attention. In an attempt to calm her simmering blood, she picked one to toy with. It was the business card of a lawyer.

"Any witnesses?"

Crossing her ankles, she rested her elbow on the chair. "Not really. Oh, well," she gritted out, "there were a few but I don't know who they are."

Tara thought it highly unlikely of them to testify and help her. If they wanted to, they would've stepped up then. Hell, if they were scared, they could've contacted the police at least.

"What about the perpetrators? Do you know their names? Can you describe them to me?"

Tara shook her head in frustration, realizing that all the details she had tried to memorize about their appearance were now useless. What would a mole or a few freckles help with, anyway? She was unable to discern their heights or build due to her sitting position in the backseat. Besides, throughout her captivity, their faces had been concealed from her, the room always dimly lit, and whenever they guided her to the restroom, they made sure her eyes were covered. She could only hope to recognize them if she ever encountered them again. 

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Could she unknowingly cross paths with them in the future without realizing who they were? Had she perhaps seen them before?

Her shoulders curved forward, her teeth relentlessly chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Have you sustained any injury during the assault?"

Tara blinked slowly, staring at him blankly. She uncrossed her ankles and gripped her knees. Nascent flames of anger and disbelief flickered across her entirety. Was he seriously asking her that when she just told him they'd ravaged her for three consecutive days? 

As the silence stretched, the officer lifted one shoulder in a faint shrug before moving to the next set of questions. "Do you have any evidence, such as clothing or physical evidence?" When she tilted her head to the side in confusion, he continued, "Did you seek medical attention, or do you have any medical records related to the assault?"

Didn't he hear anything of what she'd just said? Tara furrowed her brows, going over their conversation to make sure she didn't leave out any details. Then, his question registered in her brain. Her frown deepened. "Am I not physical evidence? Am I not enough of a proof?"

His mouth was set in a grim line as he shot her an apologetic expression. "We need actual proof other than your statement, Miss. If you're comfortable and if you consent to evidence collection, you must undergo a rape kit."

"Uh, ah, w-what?"

The officer sighed, pity overlapping with his thinning patience. "A sexual assault forensic examination. It's a procedure conducted by medical professionals to collect physical evidence following a sexual assault. This involves documenting your injuries, collecting swabs and samples from your body, and gathering clothing worn during the assault. It's conducted with the utmost sensitivity and privacy. So, don't worry."

Was he seriously telling her not to worry? Tara nearly exploded. Not only was he suggesting she have her body poked, prodded, and filmed, but he was also doing it with the most indifferent expression ever. 

He didn't believe her. He didn't care.

Her eyes stung from the effort of suppressing her tears. Biting back a tray of colorful insults, she resolved to only glare at him. How could he dare ask her to go and spread her legs to a bunch of strangers yet again? How could he suggest such a degrading and humiliating act? Did he think she enjoyed being violated? Or worse, did he doubt her story altogether, thinking she was lying?

What an insensitive prick!

Sensing the shift in her mood, the officer leaned forward. "Look, young lady, we only have your confession, and no physical evidence. Your clothes were removed so they're out of the equation. Your body was cleaned so the rape kit may not offer much but we can't tell until we try. You didn't see any faces. You don't know the location or any names. There are basically no witnesses and no suspects. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

A surge of something hot and burning coursed through her veins, igniting her from within. Tara gritted her teeth and shot up from her seat. Her blood, it seemed, had reached its boiling point. Ignoring his calls for her name and personal details, she stormed out, her steps heavy with indignation. 

Determinedly, she made her way to a nearby public phone, muttering curses under her breath all the while. If the police were going to be this frustrating and incompetent, she must ask for help from a professional.

After inserting some coins, Tara dialed the number on the card she had picked up earlier and waited anxiously as the phone rang. It felt like an eternity before someone finally answered. The man on the other end sounded a little groggy but polite as he greeted her. She sighed with relief, at least he seemed nice.

After apologizing for waking him up, Tara took a deep breath and began recounting her story. Her words spilled out rapidly as she detailed the assault and her subsequent conversation with the policeman.

What she didn't anticipate, however, was for the lawyer to echo and validate what the officer had said.

"My apologies, Miss, but we can't take action without proper physical evidence. From what you've shared with me, it appears that the only evidence we have of your abduction is the rope marks on your body. However, this alone isn't enough to build a case. We require the results from the rape kit to gather more information for your file, but currently, we're facing a significant lack of evidence, which complicates matters."  He spoke slowly, probably to make sure she heard and understood everything he uttered. "Without sufficient evidence, I'm afraid it can be challenging for law enforcement to proceed with an investigation or for prosecutors to file charges and secure a conviction."

Tara stood motionless, listening to the lawyer's words in a daze. They pierced through her like sharp blades, tearing at her already wounded heart. He was just mentioning scheduling a meeting at his office the next day to further discuss this in detail when she hung up.

She'd heard enough bullshit tonight to last her a lifetime.

Instead, she called a cab and, deeming it safe enough, sat outside the police station awaiting its arrival. 

Tara had expected that she would easily overcome this challenge and quickly set things straight as she typically did with life's obstacles. This time, however, the odds seemed stacked against her, and she was left to face the tumultuous aftermath alone.

Disappointment came crashing down like the strongest of tidal waves, drowning her in suffocating despair.

Word count: 1556.

Total word count: 5984.

Poor Tara...nothing seems to be going her way, and no one seems to be on her side :(

What did you think of what the officer said and how he interacted with her?