Reviving Ophelia - Mary Bray Pipher [119]
I said, “It’s common for girls to keep these things secret. It doesn’t mean that you don’t have a good family.” I asked everyone how they were feeling as we talked.
Ronette said, “I can’t believe this happened to Ellie. I feel guilty that I somehow didn’t prevent this.”
Ellie spoke, “I want to die.”
Dick said, “I’d like to kill those guys.”
“What should we do now?” Ronette asked. “None of us can sleep. We can’t eat. Dick has missed the last four days of work.”
The whole family was in shock and would need treatment. No doubt the younger girls were also in great pain. I planned to do some family work, but first I wanted to see Ellie alone.
I saw her for our next session. She looked a little better—her dark hair was out of her face and her eyes were dry. We visited a few minutes about school and her last swim meet. Then I brought up the rape.
She hugged a couch pillow to her chest and grew silent. Her fingernails and the tips of her fingers were badly bitten. She wasn’t ready to talk, so I read her stories about other kids who had been hurt and how they came to terms with it.
I talked about the nature of trauma. “When you cut your finger, it bleeds; you may not like blood, it’s scary and messy, but fingers that are cut are supposed to bleed. That’s healthy. If they don’t bleed, something is wrong. What happened to you is horrible and you are going to feel a lot of pain. You won’t like it, it’s messy and scary, but it’s part of healing. Burying the feelings will hurt more in the long run.”
Ellie stared at me from behind the pillow; her dark eyes were filled with pain. I explained that certain things happen with trauma. She might have nightmares and trouble with sleep. She might be afraid to go out and afraid to be home alone. She might feel crazy and like she will never recover. She might feel it was her fault and that she should have been smarter and prevented what happened.
Ellie nodded in agreement and said softly, “I keep seeing those guys over and over.”
I sat with her as she cried.
The next four sessions were similar to our second session. I read to Ellie or told her stories about other girls I had known who made it through experiences like hers. Ellie’s fingers stayed red and bitten. She didn’t want to leave the house without one of her parents. She had no interest in doing anything with her friends.
Then in our sixth session Ellie came in and said, “Today I’m going to tell you what happened.” She paused. “You get better if you talk about it, right?”
I nodded. Ellie said, “I want to get better.”
She picked up the couch pillow and told me the story. She had planned at school to slip out and meet her friend for a Coke, but her friend’s dad stayed up late that night and she was afraid to leave or even to call. So when Ellie arrived at the bowling alley, her friend wasn’t there.
She said, “I waited for an hour. I wasn’t feeling all that great; I had a headache and these high school boys kept staring at me. I wasn’t scared of them, but I was embarrassed being there all by myself.”
Her voice grew huskier. “I left the bowling alley about twelve. I noticed those guys were leaving, but I wasn’t that scared. They pulled up beside me and offered me a ride. I didn’t know them so I said no. They circled the lot and returned. Then they stopped the car and two of them got out and pulled me in.”
Her voice was dead now. “There were four of them. I couldn’t see their faces very well in the dark car. Two of them held me down in the backseat and they drove into the alley behind the bowling alley. I started to cry and one of them said, ”Let’s not do this.” But his friends called him a weenie and he shut up. I don’t think he raped me though. Only three guys raped me.”
Ellie stopped and looked out the window. Her eyes were dry but filled with pain. She caught her breath and continued. “The driver raped me first. His buddies pulled down my jeans and he jumped on top of me. He didn’t kiss me or anything.”
Her voice broke, but then she continued. “I never had sex before and I felt like I was being split open.