Brooklyn had been so focused on talking to the police to make sure Hayden and Alex paid for what they’d done that she hadn’t thought through what it would be like to talk to them, to have to relive the whole thing. When the officers came into Dustin’s house, it was question after question.

The basics first. Name, address, birthdate, blah, blah, blah.

But then the questions got more difficult. What was she doing there? Was she drinking? What was she wearing? She tried not to get snippy with the officers, but it was hard to hold back. She was so angry at their accusations, she wanted to curse them out. Instead, she gave answers that redirected the blame back where it belonged.

What was she doing there? Having dinner and a few drinks with friends. Just like Hayden and Alex were doing. She went on to explain how the football players had come in and separated the ladies and kept them apart, talking with them and hitting on them.

Was she drinking? Not enough to be incapacitated—nowhere near as much as Hayden and Alex. Not enough to pass out or be unaware of what was happening.

What was she wearing? This was the hardest question to answer. Instead of giving an honest answer about the now-shredded clothing, she decided to make a point. She asked them a question instead.

“Is this a routine question for victims? When someone is robbed, do you ask what they were wearing to imply that they dressed in a way that told their muggers to ‘come and get it’?” She glared and waited for the officer with the notepad to respond.

He glanced down at his notes and set his jaw. “You told us that your clothing was torn from your body. We’ll need to collect that for evidence. In order to do that, we’ll need to know what clothing you were wearing. Presumably, the same clothing that will become evidence.”

Brooklyn’s face went hot, but she ground her teeth as she described her outfit.

“Thank you,” the officer said. “I realize asking that question has been used in a negative context in the past, but there is a valid reason we’re asking. Just like now I’m going to ask you what they were wearing. It’s for identification purposes if we should uncover any photos or videos from that night, or like I said, to collect evidence.”

She tried to trust the officers after that and believe what they told her. The part about needing the info to collect evidence did make sense, after all. She wanted to keep an open mind, to not assume the worst and they were going to build a case to make her look like she was asking for it. But the hardest part was still coming.

It was the next statement that gave her pause and choked her up.

“I need you to describe in as much detail as possible, what happened after they dragged you into the woods,” the officer said. He tone was tender and his expression held sympathy. “We need to understand so that we can try to find witness, search for appropriate evidence, and charge them with the correct charges. We want to see criminals face justice just as much as you do.”

She took in a shaky breath and looked over at Dustin. She wished he would come and sit beside her, hold her hand while she recounted the awful night. He didn’t sit beside her, but he did hand her a box of tissues and offer a compassionate expression. Better than nothing.

Brooklyn gripped the tissue in one hand and one of the couch’s pillows in the other. She almost asked Dustin to sit beside her at one point but couldn’t bring herself to do it. They weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment, even if he had put himself in harm’s way to rescue her.

As she described everything in detail as much as she could remember before she blacked out, she was sure to paint Dustin in a positive light, how he’d dressed her and cared for her and brought her home to clean her up, and that he did all that after attacking his own teammates and endangering himself to save her. He’d called the cops and offered to help her in any way. As she talked, he leaned against the wall, listening, looking at the carpet. Did he feel embarrassed over what she was saying? Had she said too much? And then she thought, maybe he would try to deny some of it somehow. Make it look like she had brought it on herself.

By the end of her explanation, she found herself feeling more defensive than anything. They needed to understand the crimes that took place and that she had done nothing to cause it. And she needed Dustin to understand that, too.

When they had asked a few more questions for clarification, they went on their way. There’d be many more interviews, more talking, more explaining, more reliving, before this was all over. They had explained to her all that would happen with lawyers and the court system and had advised that she find a lawyer specifically experienced in representing victims in these cases. They knew she was in for a battle and wanted her to be prepared for it.

Dustin closed the door after seeing the officers out and again stood leaning against the wall. She didn’t know what to say or do. She felt cold in a way that went to her core. It wasn’t the type of cold that had anything to do with the temperature in the room but rather the despair in her soul.

After a long silence, Dustin asked quietly, “Do you want me to get you anything before I drive you home? Coffee or something to eat?”

“Umm…” was all she could manage.

“How about some hot tea?”

“Okay.”

She waited while he banged around in the kitchen then came back several minutes later with a steaming mug. It wasn’t the best tasting tea, but in that moment, it was the greatest thing in the world. It made her chest warmer, and she drank it down too fast.

“Want more?” he asked.

She shook her head and set the mug down.

“I guess I’ll drive you home then.”

She thought about home. Her dark apartment. Her empty apartment. It seemed very cold in her mind. She didn’t want to be there by herself.

“Actually…” she looked at him with a pleading expression. “Would you mind if I stayed here tonight? I just—” Her voice cracked and the tears started again. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”