Page 3 of Contention
Kara worked hard, sometimes too hard. Late nights and long weekends. Bianca had soured over the fact, bitter over the circumstance that Kara had thrown herself into her career with a one-track mind. Working to keep her mind off the past, off things she’d rather not think about.
The way she worked hard to forget how lost she felt inside.
The memory fractures slightly, bright lights strobing in the darkened club. The world was tilting and her body felt like it was in quicksand. “I didn’t drink that much, B. You know I cut myself off at one.”
Alcoholism runs in her family, after all. Is Kara an alcoholic? Probably not, but once upon a time…
Okay. So, she’s had problems in the past.
Her friend had grabbed her by the chin and booped her on the nose. Bianca was too drunk, lost in the night to sense the concern in Kara’s slurring voice. “You’re fine. I’m getting another drink. Wait here.”
Kara didn’t wait and that’s the problem. Too independent, too strong willed.
She had wandered out of the club, intending to find a cab home. Not thinking straight, getting worried. The problem was, she didn’t see any cabs. Or maybe she’d taken a wrong turn. Either way, she found herself walking alone in the dark, on a street with a few strangely dressed characters. Bright clothes, pretty clothes, big heels, scattered up and down the street.
Perhaps a car had pulled up. A large car. Filled with voices. Other sounds. A limo.
Blinkingly the fuzzy thoughts away, Kara gets to her feet. “I was drugged at a nightclub. I left in a haze. It wasn’t intentional. If that’s all, I’d like to go home.”
Something akin to pity appears in the doctor’s gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want a rape kit done?”
A snake coils in Kara’s belly, tight and angry. She’snota victim and nothinghappened. She fell. She’s fallen before, back when drinking helped numb her mind and body, shielded her from all the anger burning her alive from the inside out.
Besides, she doesn’t want the cops to get a handle on her DNA from the rape kit. Last thing she needs is for the cops to decide they want to detain her as a prostitute even though shedidn’t do anything. They could still threaten her with it, to get her to talk about this odd night. Whatever happened…it didn’t happen to her. She doesn’t even recall. The issuedoesn’texist.
Kara lifts her dark gaze to the doctor and stiffly says, “I don’t. What I want is to go home and forget about this inconvenience. I have work to do. I don’t have time for any more distractions.”
The older woman inclines her head. “Not even a swab of your mouth?”
Nothing happened to me, I’m not weak, I’m not a victim
Kara ignores the question. Feeling underdressed in the hospital gown, Kara looks for her purse and grabs it. “Where are my clothes? I’m going home.”
The detectives watch with disappointment in their eyes as the doctor hands over her little black dress, along with her scarlet red heels.
When she has her items, she storms into the bathroom, changing with irritated movements. Whatever drug was in her system is long since gone, leaving her alert enough to know that she wants to be home in her own bed. Maybe with a cup of hot water and lemon.
Why does my jaw hurt? What about my throat?
Stop. You’re fine. Nothing happened.
Kara pauses in front of the mirror, staring at her face. She doesn’t know what to feel, looking at her chocolate eyes, rimmed with smudged eyeliner and mascara.Look at those disgraceful raccoon eyes, her mother would have said to her.You look like a whore.
Her brunette hair is a mess, so she digs into her purse and puts her hair up in a clip to get it out of the way. The split lip looks worse than it feels and there is dark bruising along her jaw. As if someone had held it open. Vacantly, she moves her jaw, feels the stiffness there and shuts her eyes, cringes.
No. Don’t think about it.
When she’s clothed, she walks out of the hospital room and bids them all goodbye.
“Wait,” Detective Wellis says after her. “Let us at least drop you off at home. Make sure you get inside alright.” His partner looks irritated about the offer, giving him an odd look.
Kara stares at him, debating telling him that she doesn’t want to endure a ride to her building with two cops that want to pry open her mind like a couple of vultures. But. It beats paying for a cab. Look how well that went earlier anyway.
“That would be nice, Detective Wellis. Thank you.”
They bring her to her building, stopping out front. Wellis hands her his card. “If you remember anything or just want to talk, call me.”
Kara gives him a weak smile that hurts, feels the wretched pull in her lip. “Sure thing.”
