“I hate what he did to me. Ten years ago today.” Realisation hit Tom's expression. Followed by guilt.
“Shit Em. I'm so sorry.” He hugged me, not bothered that his top was getting wet. “No wonder you're losing the plot.” I let him comfort me, relieved someone finally understood the significance of today. My stomach churned, anxiety feeding into the endless pit in my stomach. I climbed out of the bath and let him dry me. He wrapped my pink dressing gown around me. Ten years ago today, my world changed forever.
'A horrific event that no child should ever have to go through.'
That was how the newspaper described it. Mom and dad had unsuccessfully tried to keep the papers away from me. In spite of that, I’d collected every article, every news clipping. From that day, my life was defined by what he had done.
Tom sat me down on the couch with my laptop, coffee, and a large selection of junk food. He'd convinced me to at least try to focus on something else today. Even if it was cheesy movies and junk food. He handed me his phone. I glanced at the phone, and up at him.
“It doesn't take too much guessing to work out what happened to yours.” He said dryly. I blushed, remembering my morning outburst. I'd never liked my phone anyway.
“It was the cat.” I lied. As if on cue, Carol entered the room. She hissed, glaring at me through her squinted eyes. Tom shook his head.
“Your cat is a freak.” He accused. “But you're such a liar.” I shrugged my shoulders. I was lying. And I was a freak too. Carol had been a present from my dad, two years ago. He’d rescued her from a shelter. He told me we were perfect for each other. I didn't know whether that was a compliment or an insult. Knowing her as I do now, I'd say it was an insult.
Carol was my dad’s way of saying ‘sorry I haven't been around for the last five years.’ That was two years ago and I haven't seen him since. Apparently it 'hurts' him too much to look at me. I'm a reminder to him of what happened. To me.
“Thanks Tommy. I'm so lucky to have a friend like you.” We hugged. I gave him so much shit, but he was always there for me. He'd been there for me since we were five. He knew I loved him, but I didn't let him know that enough. He kissed my head.
“Love you too, Em. My little self-absorbed shithead.” I opened my mouth to protest. Tom cut me off. “You’re allowed to be self-absorbed today, but knock it off tomorrow, yeah?” I wacked him across the head, not bothering to hide the smile on my face. “Keep the phone Em. I’m due for a new one anyway. Just try not to break this one.”
In spite of Tom's objections, I decided to try and study. I had put off starting my Law and Society essay for far longer than I should have. It was the one subject in my course that I hated. Well, hate is maybe too strong a word. I hated the way this subject made me feel.
Focusing so much on society made me focus on what I was missing out on. The fact that the last time I went to a movie theatre was when I was ten. Or a restaurant. I'd missed out on every moment a normal teenager would look forward to.
Tom skimmed the assignment criteria. “ You don't have any others you can work on?” He screwed his nose up like he always did when he was unsure.
“This was your idea.” I pointed out, giggling. He was right though. This essay was a bad choice, but a bad choice that needed to be handed in next week.
“You can't get an extension?”
“With six days until it’s due? I doubt it. Besides.” I added. “Apparently the professor is a bit of an asshole.”
“Surely if you explained-”
“Leave it Tom.” I said, more harshly than I intended. I ran my hands through my still damp hair. “Just let me do this. Please.” I added softly.
Tom looked like he was having an argument inside his head. Finally he sighed, and sat down next to me, resigned to the fact that I'd gotten my way. Again.
I needed to pick two high profile cases, one recent, and one not so recent. The past case I'd decided on was my own. I knew the details in and out, and I had no doubt it was something I could get a very high grade on. Who knew the impact on the victim and society better than me?
This wasn't exactly taking my mind off him, which was either really good or really bad. My psychiatrist, Dr Mellow (yes Mellow), was always trying to get me to work through what happened. His theory was the more I could talk about Derek and the attack, the less it would affect me. To date, his theory was not exactly working.
My email alert popped up. I'd just emailed the professor for some clarification. Wow he was quick to respond.
Miss Mancelli,
I appreciate your attempt to clarify the essay, but it is due in one week. This is something that should have been started at the beginning of the semester. I can’t fathom to think how you will manage to get a passing grade for this, let alone the exam that will be in six weeks.
To answer your question, yes victim impact on the crime is great, try and gather as much info as you can on the crime and the perception of the community and the victim. Focus on sentencing too. Was the sentence adequate in your opinion for the crime?
I do offer tutoring of a Monday after lectures for students who are struggling. I suggest it might be in your interests to attend for future assignments.
Regards,
Simon Anderson
“Asshole.” My face flamed red. Who the hell did this guy think he was? The anger bubbling inside of me wasn't only directed at him. He was partly right. Easily distracted and leaving things until the last minute. That summed me up since childhood. My parents would tell me to do three things, and only the first would get done. What I didn't need was to hear that from some hotshot professor who didn't know me from a bar of soap.