Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

Emily turned her head away, staring at the wall as she felt her heels being jammed into the stirrups on either side of the table. Her knees were braced wide open. She knew that if she looked up, she would find Dr. Schroeder looming over her. The thought of his gnarled, angry face glaring down at her broke Emily apart. A sob came out of her mouth.

“Unclench.” Dr. Schroeder sat on the rolling stool. “You’ll only make it worse.”

Emily bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood again. She didn’t know what he was going to do until it was too late.

He shoved the cold metal instrument inside of her. The pain brought another cry to her lips. Her insides felt as if they had been scraped away. Loud clicks opened the metal jaws. Instinctively, she pushed her heels to get away, but that only trapped her deeper into the stirrups. A lamp was rolled over. The heat was unbearable, but not as humiliating as Dr. Schroeder putting his face down there.

Emily gulped down another sob. Tears wept from her eyes. His fat fingers prodded inside of her. She gripped the table with her hands. Her teeth clenched. Her breath caught from a sharp cramp. The air was trapped in her lungs. She was paralyzed, unable to exhale. Her vision swam. She was going to pass out. Vomit spilled into her mouth.

And then it was over.

The instrument was wrenched out. Dr. Schroeder stood up. He pushed the lamp away. He took off his gloves. He spoke to Mrs. Brickel instead of Emily. “She’s not intact.”

Mrs. Brickel made a noise. Her hand tightened on Emily’s shoulder.

“Sit up,” Dr. Schroeder ordered. “Hurry. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

Emily struggled to lift her feet out of the stirrups. The metal clattered. Dr. Schroeder grabbed both ankles in his hands and lifted her heels up in the air. Instead of letting go, he clamped them together.

“See this?” he told Emily. “If you’d kept your legs closed, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Emily scrambled to sit up. The paper gown had ripped. She tried to cover herself.

“Too late for modesty.” Dr. Schroeder had her chart in his hands. He started writing. “When was your last period?”

“It was—” Emily took the tissue Mrs. Brickel offered. “A—a month and a half ago. But I—I told you, I’ve never—I didn’t—”

“You’ve clearly had intercourse. From what I saw, you’ve had it multiple times.”

Emily was too shocked to respond.

Multiple times?

“You can cut the act. You’ve given yourself to a boy and you’re suffering the consequences.” Dr. Schroeder was matter of fact. “What did you think would happen, you foolish girl?”

Emily gripped the paper gown in her hands. “I never—I didn’t do anything with—”

Dr. Schroeder looked up from his notes. He was finally paying attention to her. “Go on.”

“I never—” Emily couldn’t get the words out. “I was at a party, and I …”

She heard her voice trail off in the small room. What could she say? The party was with her friends, her clique. If she said that something bad had happened, that someone had drugged her or that she had passed out and there were only three boys there, then one of those three boys had to be responsible.

“Right.” Dr. Schroeder thought he understood completely. “You drank too much or someone slipped you a mickey?”

Emily remembered Clay placing the tab of acid on her tongue. He hadn’t slipped her anything. She had willingly taken it because she trusted him. All of them.

“So,” Dr. Schroeder surmised. “You are claiming that you are blameless in this situation because some boy took advantage of you.”

“I—” Emily couldn’t say the words. The boys wouldn’t do this to her. They were all good men. “I don’t remember what happened.”

“But you do admit that you had sexual intercourse.”

It wasn’t a question, and he had clearly seen the answer for himself. She was not intact.

“Well?” he barked.

All that Emily could do was nod.