AFTERMATH ('THE SLUT')

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2020

WARNING: CONTAINS REFERENCES TO SUICIDE & RAPE.

Author's Note: One of the saddest stories on FictionMania is Janice's 'The Slut': "Three teenage girls exact revenge on the older brother of one of them, who is obnoxious to them, with dire results." Six minutes ago, I posted it here on BCTS as 'The Slut (By Janice)'. It's a short but powerful story, cutting 'close to the bone' of reality. Many of its reviewers demanded a sequel. 'Aftermath' is an unauthorized tribute to Janice's gut-wrenching realism. Please do not associate any shortcomings in my work with her thoughtful gem. Any overlaps in copyright I cede to her.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

RT

HOME SWEET HOME --- SUNDAY

It was a beautiful, late Sunday summer afternoon: warm, clear skies, brilliant sun.

Janet and Jim drove back home. They had been together since college and married for 24 years. She was 45 years old, a successful industrial machinery sales rep. He was 46, a mid-level manager in government. They were happily married and had two children.

Until this weekend, they had never taken any vacations without their kids. Nancy, the eldest, was 17 years old and a bright student, well liked by her friends and peers. Paul, their son, was 15 and, well, he was a rambunctious teenage boy. Not evil, not criminal, but undeniably a hellion, especially toward his older sister. She considered him a pest, and he considered her a soft target.

Janet and Jim had finally concluded, after much discussion, that they could leave their two children alone for a weekend. They wanted quiet intimacy (impossible with youngsters). They made a reservation at an adult resort in the countryside. They instructed their children to contact them if anything went wrong and left Nancy in charge.

Janet and Jim drove back home happy.

-----000-----

As they approached their home, they saw a large police van in the driveway and a police car on the street. They grew nervous. They parked and hurried to the front door. A uniformed officer sat on an Adirondack chair on the stoop and stood up as they approached.

"Excuse me. Please go back," the officer said officiously.

"This is our house!" They were worried now.

"Oh! Sorry. Please wait a minute," the officer said, and then muttered something into her patrol mic. The front door opened. A man and a woman in business suits came out.

"What's going on?" Janet asked.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?" the woman asked.

"Yes. What's going on?" Jim replied.

The two detectives exchanged looks. The woman said, "I am Detective Smith, and this is Detective Jones. Would you please come with us to the backyard?"

-----000-----

They sat at the patio table. The backyard was shaded and sheltered from the other houses. The two detectives' faces were flat and expressionless. They sat formally in the chairs. Janet and Jim were anxious and leaned forward on the table.

The female detective was painfully aware that these two parents would remember this moment for the rest of their lives. She solemnly began:

"I have some bad news to tell you. Your son, Paul, committed suicide early this morning or late last night, in the kitchen." Janet started to whimper. Jim's jaw dropped. They grabbed each others' hands.

"This is what we know for certain at this time. First, Paul cut his wrists and bled to death. Second, he was wearing women's clothing at the time of his death. Third, your daughter and two of her friends were asleep in the house when it happened." She paused to let that basic information sink in. "I'm very sorry this happened."

Janet started grasping: "Women's clothing? In the kitchen? He doesn't... Why? Why? What do you mean? I don't understand." She trembled. The tears fell.

"Where is he?" Jim whispered, red-eyed.

"His body is at the coroner's office for examination."

Jim and Janet were visibly devastated. Both detectives hated this part of their job.

"We want to see him. And where's Nancy?"

The two detectives exchanged looks. "Your daughter is safe. We'll take you to the coroner's office first and then to your daughter."

THE CORONER'S OFFICE --- SUNDAY

The diener drew the sheet off the body.

Paul's naked corpse lay on the autopsy table. It had not yet been prepared for examination. Janet wept as it was uncovered. Jim held her.

His hair was in a ponytail. It was obvious that he had been wearing makeup; some had been removed and some more had been added. His lightly tanned skin was but a deathly pallor; it matched the room's walls. Both of his wrists were sliced, one plainly more deeply than the other.

Paul's body was dressed in a peignoir. Janet recognized it as one of hers. She touched it. "Please don't touch anything," the diener compassionately asked. Janet let it go.

Jim nodded his head at the detectives: the body was Paul's.

Janet leaned over and kissed him. She caressed his cheek. Her tears fell on the table.

Jim's body shook and shook. He kissed his son farewell and helped his wife out of the room.

The diener drew the sheet over the body.

-----000-----

That corpse on that table in that room was their last image of him.

And they would never be able to forget it.

THE POLICE STATION --- SUNDAY

The two parents and two detectives sat in a comfortable, decorated interview room. The latter had informed the former that their conversation would be recorded to accurately record their "conversation". Janet had sobbed when she had been told that the investigation was ongoing and that she was not a suspect. Jim nodded his understanding and kept his arm around Janet's shoulder.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, your daughter is being detained as a suspect in your son's death." Detective Jones knew no other way to inform them of that stark fact.

"Suspect?" Jim asked, astonished.

"Yes, she and two other young women. Do you know a Thelma Albertson and Shelley Burns?" Detective Jones spoke in a measured, flat voice.

"They're Nancy's friends!" Janet rushed to answer. "They were having a sleepover this weekend! How are they involved? Are they suspects? What did they do?" Her voice expressed her agitation.

"I want to talk to my daughter now!" Jim raised his voice.

Detective Smith motioned calm with her hands and flatly answered: "Your daughter is a minor. In accordance with the law, we have limited our questioning of her. You are now here. You may speak with her. Once you have done so, we may be resuming our questioning."

The detective was pragmatic and not insensitive. "It may be advisable for her to consult a lawyer before we interview her. We will caution her to do so as well. You are entitled to be present when we caution her."

-----000-----

Jim and Janet sat in a stark, neutral interview room. They had been informed that they would have exactly 15 minutes alone with their daughter, that they would be under visual observation all the time for safety reasons, and that the police would not make any recordings of any kind. Nor would the police be able to listen to what was said.

Two uniformed female officers brought Nancy into the room. She wore jailhouse orange overalls and was handcuffed. Janet gasped when she saw her. Jim and Janet waited, as instructed, for the officers to remove her handcuffs and leave. They then rushed to her and hugged her.

Nancy sobbed. Janet sobbed. Jim sobbed.

"Are you okay?" Janet asked. Nancy tried to nod in reply and sniffled.

The remaining Sanders family members sat together on the cheap chairs, bringing the three of them close together. They held hands.

"Nancy, what happened to Paul?" Jim's voice conveyed his shock.

Nancy could not answer him. She had suggested the plan to her friends. She had left him on the park bench. And she had discovered her brother's body on the kitchen floor. She silently stared at her father ashamedly, glanced at her mother guiltily, hyperventilated loudly, and collapsed suddenly. The police intervened to provide first aid.

Twenty minutes later, an ambulance took her to the mental health unit at the local hospital, and she was placed under constant observation to prevent her harming herself.

THE CORONER'S OFFICE --- SUNDAY

As the Sanders were returning home, Dr. Pascale Tremblay sat back in her chair, put her feet on her desk, and began to review the detailed photographs and preliminary lab reports. The dictation equipment in the examination room had thankfully worked; it often didn't.

-----000-----

The external examination revealed the following. There were two medial forearm lacerations, the left one longer than the right. There was significant bruising all over the body. It was present around the wrists and on the back of the neck. After the head was shaved, further bruising on the scalp was noted. There was additional bruising and minor lacerations on his knees.

Once the peignoir was removed, several bruises in his abdominal area were seen. The victim's genitals were significantly bruised. One testicle appeared disrupted. There was significant trauma around the victim's anus. There was localised evidence of bleeding and the secretion of other liquid substances.

The internal examination was remarkable. The oral cavity evidenced trauma; there were scratches on the insides of the cheeks that were not inconsistent with fingernails. In the abdomen, there was positive fluid and solid organ injury. In the rectum, there were numerous lacerations and abrasions. The anal canal was severely traumatised. The mucosa of the rectum was atypical. There were several fluids collected from the oral cavity, gastrointestinal system, and the rectum; the fluids were not inconsistent with human semen.

The expedient toxicology report indicated the presence of a benzodiazepine. A more detailed analysis would come later.

-----000-----

The good doctor began drafting her preliminary report. It would be distributed to the police and the prosecutor's office.

Provisionally, the manner of death was suicide, and the cause of death was the cutting of the wrists. She was reluctant to move beyond those impressions at this juncture.

She hypothesized that the victim had been drugged, abused, assaulted. Where and precisely when were not presently determinable. The suicide came later; he probably cut his right arm first so that he could make the deeper, more deadly cut with it, his stronger arm. Some of the bruising was consistent with falling off a table. Much of the bruising, however, was consistent with being forcibly held, punched, and kicked.

She hit 'send', and off the preliminary report went.

-----000-----

The good doctor arrived home just before midnight. Her beloved wife greeted her: "The kids missed you. I told them you'd give them a great story tomorrow night." She kissed Pascale and went back to bed.

The good doctor sat in the darkened living room in her deathly quiet home.

She sipped her vodka; it tasted necessary.

She stared at the TV; it wasn't on.

She tried to recall the boy's face; she did.

She tried to recall the boy's name; she did.

His were like the hundreds of other tragic faces and names: she never forgot them.

She sipped her vodka.

THE POLICE STATION --- MONDAY

Jim and Janet arrived from the hotel. They had not been permitted into the crime scene. After their brief visit with Nancy, they had spent many hours on the phone in their hotel suite sadly informing their brothers, sisters, and other family members that Paul had committed suicide.

The toughest call had been with Jim's dad, after whom Paul had been named.

Detective Smith and another detective took Janet into one interview room. Detective Jones and another detective took Jim into a different one. Both interviews were similar. The police asked them of Paul's life, his friends, his interests.

"How was Paul around his girlfriends or girls who were his friends?" He had flirted and dreamt, Jim answered, but no, no girlfriend yet.

"How might he have come to wear women's clothing?" Janet strenuously replied that he had never expressed any interest in any female clothing or accessories or makeup.

"How did Paul get along with his sister and her various friends?" Both Jim and Janet independently offered that he had been a bit of a terror. His teasing was marked by rank immaturity, partially rooted in male adolescence and insecurity. Assessed through an adult lens, his teasing had not been spawned by hatred of his sister.

"Who did you leave in charge this weekend?"

"In what ways had Nancy demonstrated her ability to look after him?"

"How did Nancy feel about Paul?"

And so on, until...

-----000-----

In Janet's room:

"This will be difficult for you to hear. The early results from the coroner's office have been received. It appears that Paul was sexually assaulted by at least three different males. There are signs on his body that these acts were committed against him with force."

Janet shuddered. "He was raped?" she whispered. The detective nodded. Janet fainted.

-----000-----

In Jim's room:

"Mr. Sanders, can you think of any reason why Paul might have engaged in homosexual activity?"

Jim instantly sat up. "No. None." He was in shock. He recalled lecturing his son about internet porn on his computer after having discovered Paul had been visiting well-known websites. At the time, Jim had not seen any thing to suggest Paul was interested in anything other than heterosexual activity; he told the police that now.

"Mr. Sanders, the autopsy discovered semen from three males in Paul's body. Your son was sexually assaulted before he died."

"Give me a minute, please," Jim asked.

He stared at the far wall. He kept his thoughts to himself.

"Who?" he asked the police.

"We're investigating," they replied.

THE POLICE STATION --- FRIDAY

Thelma Albertson's parents sat next to her. Her lawyer sat across the table from her.

"In a few minutes," the lawyer began, "the police are going to come in to question you. Neither of you," he gestured to her parents, "will be permitted to be here. I will be here."

Thelma's parents nodded.

It had been a long week for Don Albertson. The police had searched his home and his pharmacy business. They had questioned him. They had informed him that their investigation of him would be brought to the attention of the Registered Pharmacists Regulatory and Review Board; it could review and revoke his licence. He had informed his business lawyer and his insurer. He also took the initiative to report the foregoing to the Board.

Since last Sunday, Vickie Albertson had said nothing to her daughter. She had remembered Thelma's requesting to have a sleepover with Nancy and Shelley a few weeks ago; she told the police about the request. She had remembered Thelma's joking about "getting back" at Paul; she told the police about the joke.

And she had remembered Paul.

She had not known him well. She had known of his reputation for taunting and pestering the girls. She had thought his actions were those of a silly teenage jackass. She had never contemplated her daughter's participating in any crazy scheme to drug him, to cross-dress him, and to leave him alone in a city park at night.

Mother and daughter looked at each other.

A single look can predict a lifetime: Thelma suddenly realized that her mother, her best friend, her best supporter in the world had deserted her forever.

-----000-----

Shelley Burns' interview was about to end. She was terrified.

Yes, she had a lawyer sitting next to her. Yes, he seemed like a nice, caring guy who really wanted to help her. Yes, he had advised her to say nothing, much as he had advised for the bail hearing a few days ago. Yes, he had explained to her how aiding and abetting another's crime implicates one in that crime. Yes, he had objected every now and then to the questions the two detectives had asked her.

But they had known so much! It was as though they had investigated everything and, toying with her, just asked her questions of which they already knew the answers.

She had tried to equivocate. She had tried to be economical. She had tried and tried and tried this and that. Yet there had come a moment during their questioning at which she shuddered and recognized that there was no path of escape in front of her.

"We did it," she confessed, and proceeded to tell the detectives everything without reservation. Once she began, her lawyer reminded her that she did not have to say anything. Yet her detailed confession continued.

She felt that she had completely expurgated her guilt.

She forgot that actions have consequences.

"Shelley Burns, I am placing you under arrest for the following offences: 1) criminal negligence causing death; 2) assault causing bodily harm; 3) administering a noxious substance; 4) possession of a controlled substance; 5) possession of stolen goods; 6) failure to report child abuse while caring for a minor; 7) kidnapping..." There were over 15 charges when the detective finished. Thelma and Nancy had been similarly charged.

Shelley looked baffled. "I told you everything! Can't I go home now?" she begged.

Two uniformed female officers took Shelley away.

THE CEMETARY --- EXACTLY FIVE YEARS TO THE DAY

It was a beautiful, late Sunday summer afternoon: warm, clear skies, brilliant sun.

Jim parked the car and got out. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door for Nancy. He bent over and undid her seatbelt for her. She looked up at him oddly. "Thank you, daddy." He assisted her turning and getting out of the car. She held his arm. He closed the door.

They walked toward the section called 'Garden of Peace' in which was Lot 24, Space 7.

This was the first time Jim walked with a registered sex offender. He had never thought that they looked like his daughter.

Nancy had been released from prison a few hours ago. Her time in 'the system' had not been kind to her. It had a hierarchy; she had been far from its apex.

Juvenile detention and later prison had aged her; she looked 35, not 21. She was lifeless. The only colour on her pale skin was that of her few visible prison tattoos. Her index and middle fingers on her left hand were unnaturally bent; she had been prey.

Years ago, the judge had ordered her to undergo a pre-trial evaluation. It had been determined that she: a) had not been suffering any mental defect; and b) had been capable of appreciating the nature and quality of her actions and knew that they had been wrong.

Following her conviction, she had been confined in 'the system' that was inadequately designed to treat offenders like her. She had required access to mental health personnel and services. Few people who so calamitously contributed to their brother's doom would not. But there were almost no resources in 'the system' to treat her.

The enormity of her mistake had crippled her soul for the past five years, much as it would for the remainder of her ruined life.

Nancy embraced her mother for the first time in years at Paul's grave. Janet caressed her cheek. Both women were overcome by tears. Both women sniffled.

"How are you dear?" Janet softly asked.

Nancy mindlessly nodded her head. Jim gently took Janet's arm and slowly led her away from the grave. Nancy would have the alone time --- here --- that she had requested of them.

Nancy knelt in front of the headstone. She traced each letter on it. A lonely dog barked in the distance.

"I'm sorry, little brother." She put her hands on the top of the headstone and kissed it. "Please forgive me."

Nancy cried for she knew she would never hear his answer.

THE POLICE STATION --- THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

"Fred, I have good news and bad news. The good news," a grey-haired, lined-face Senior Detective Smith said, "is that your DNA doesn't match the DNA found on the security guard's body. Therefore, we won't be pressing any charges against you in respect of the sexual assault at the warehouse last month. You still have three charges of theft under $10,000 and possession. Maybe that's a good thing for you." Her voice trailed off.

Fred smirked. He hadn't raped the young female security guard. He had been too busy stealing stuff from the racks. His cohorts, however, had raped her. The police knew nothing of his cohorts because he had remained silent. And the DNA from the sperm in her body could not temporally link him to the rape.

"So, we can go? You're going to release him under conditions because it wasn't a violent crime, right?" It was a defence lawyer's textbook request from the public defender who, a few months ago, had still been studying those textbooks in law school.

The experienced detective ignored the quaint puppy and smiled back at Fred.

"I did mention bad news, didn't I?" Her eyes twinkled at Fred. His narrowed.

"My dear Fred, your DNA matched some other DNA collected 13 years ago," she said.

Fred said nothing. His face said nothing.

"Paul Sanders." She said his name. Fred flinched.

She pulled out two pictures from a folder.

"What's this about?" the lawyer asked diffidently.

She placed the two pictures on the desk.

The first picture was of Paul. On the autopsy table. Skin white. Eyes lifeless. Mouth open. Makeup. Peignoir. Ponytail. Dead.

-----000-----

The second picture was of something that had ceased to exist long ago.

Janet sitting on a chair in the centre of the picture. Jim standing behind her, his arms around the shoulders of Nancy on his left and Paul on his right, each of whom had put a hand on their mom's shoulders.

Together. Happy. Family.

Jim's face beamed with pride, Janet's burst with love, and Nancy's with hope.

And Paul smiled.

END

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2020