Any Random Tuesday

Chapter Five

At the London Police Department, Detective Gwen Cooper was known as a real piece of work. Everyday she came in to work with the same frown on her face and the same authoritative click of her high heels on the parquet. Her slim body moved with grace and elegance, but one look at her face told all who came near that she was off limits. Her blue eyes seemed to burn holes right through anyone that dared look at her too long.
At the age of twenty three she was the youngest detective the department had had in a long time. She had earned the position only a year ago after two years with the department. Her hard work and lack of anything resembling a social life had enabled her to dedicate herself to her work, and that her superiors liked.
Around the department her co-workers called her “the dragon lady” behind her back. None of them could imagine the secrets that Gwen hid from the world behind her cold uncaring demeanor, the hurt and grief that she bottled up inside unwilling to face the demons of her past.

At seventeen Gwen had emerged from the “I hate my parents” stage and had formed close relationships with both her father and her mother. Paul and Dolley Cooper were supportive of their only child and her hopes and dreams for the future. They wanted to see their little girl succeed more than anything in the world. It was the summer of 1994 and Gwen was preparing to go away to a conservatory in Paris to study violin.
The weekend before Gwen was to leave for Paris she and her mother decided to go camping on the moors of Yorkshire. It was a trip that the pair had taken every summer until Gwen was about thirteen and no longer thought that it was cool to go camping with her mother. However, now seventeen years old Gwen had gotten over her coolness and looked forward to spending time alone with her mother.
When the pair arrived at the Yorkshire campsite and parked the car outside the owner’s cabin, they heard a lot of noise nearby. Cheers and laughter drifted through the air from every direction. Gwen and her mother had never heard the campground so noisy. Usually it was a quiet and tranquil place. Mother and daughter exchanged looks of surprise before walking to the cabin and knocking on the door.
Mr. Roberts, the campground owner opened the door. He looked frazzled and confused, “Hello?” he asked.
“Mr. Roberts, it’s been a long time…”
“Dolley Cooper!” The man exclaimed “and this must be Gwen. My you have grown.”
“Yes, she certainly has. I was wondering if we could get a campsite.”
“Well certainly, certainly, but I do need to warn you I have quite the crowd of oddballs here. I’m not sure what it’s all about some sort of convention of silly dressers or something like that I imagine.”
“I’m sure it will be fine as long as we can get a site a bit away from them,” Dolley placated.
“Well of course. Let me draw you a map,” Mr. Roberts answered before disappearing inside his cabin.
After a half hour hike Gwen and her mother arrived at their campsite. It was located on a hill that overlooked the larger campground below. Gwen and her mother could see the tents of the oddballs that seemed to be gathered together into a community that stretched out for kilometers.
“Wow,” Gwen said, “That’s really something.”
“It certainly is.” Dolley began, “It’s so quiet right now. I wonder where they all are.”
“Maybe their off on a hike.”
“Could be,” Dolley answered before busying herself with the set up of the camp.
The two women didn’t give a second thought to the group of campers below them until they were sitting around their campfire that evening preparing dinner. Gwen was the first one to see the torches coming out of the woods. The sounds of cheering and singing met their ears.
“Look! It’s a celebration!” Gwen exclaimed. Dolley turned to see the flags being waved and the firecrackers lighting up the sky.
“Wow, it’s as if they are celebrating winning the world cup,” Dolley chimed in. Gwen laughed. These people didn’t seem like the football types.
Gwen and her mother continued watching long into the night. When they finally settled down in their sleeping bags they could hear the rowdy voices of drunken singers floating through the air.

Screaming. Gwen could remember the screams that woke her. The image of a skull high in the sky with serpent coming out of its mouth. The ethereal glow of it could be seen for kilometers. She remembered a hand over her mouth, pain that debilitated her entire body and a strange, foreign sounding word.

Lights passed above her head and voices floated around her. She didn’t know where she was or why she was there. The world around her blurred together.

Gwen could hear the beep of machines around her. She tried to lift her head. Nothing. She tried to move her arm and pain stabbed through her. “Ahh,” she groaned.
Suddenly her father appeared above her. His head seemed to float in a blur. “Nurse, she’s awake,” he yelled. She could see lines on his face that she didn’t remember and bags under his eyes. His skin was ashen.
Gwen tried to move her mouth to speak to him, but again pain coursed through her. Tears came to her eyes. She didn’t know why she couldn’t move, why she was here, why her father was upset, or where her mother was.
“Gwen, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” her father whispered as he wiped the tears from his eyes. She wondered if he was saying that to assure himself. Just then she heard footsteps entering the room.
“She’s awake?” A male voice asked while approaching the bed.
“Yes, I think she’s in pain. Please give her something,” her father stated. The nurse moved around her bed. She imagined he was checking the equipment that surrounded her.
“I’ll be right back,” the nurse declared before walking away. Gwen’s father paced beside her until the nurse returned. “Alright hun,” he said holding up a needle, “I’m just going to inject this into your IV so you can go back to sleep and let your body heal.” Soon the voices and the beeping blurred together and her eyes grew heavy.

“The next time Gwen woke she could move her body. She turned her head and saw her father asleep in the chair next to her bed. She tried to lift herself, but her muscles were weak. “Dad,” she whispered unable to make her throat work. “Dad,” she tried again. Disappointed she gave up and sank back against the pillows.
She moved her head to stare at her arm. It was sickly thin. She concentrated on trying to lift it. Slowly she forced herself to raise it off the bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she strained with the effort and after little more than half a centimeter gave up the effort.
“Well, hello there,” A women in scrubs chimed happily as she moved into the room, “how are you feeling dear?’
“I,” Gwen tried but it came out in a barely audible whisper.
“Oh, dear. Let me get you some water,” the women chirped. Soon she was holding a cup of water in front of Gwen and helping her to sip at the water through a straw.
“What happened? Why am I here?” Gwen asked the women.
“I think that’s something I should let your father tell you.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“One month and six days,” the women informed her.
“School. I was suppose to go to school.”
“Honey, school can wait. You need to focus on recovering.”
“Recovering from what?”
“I’m going to wake your father,” the nurse stated in agitated tone. Gwen sighed with frustration. “Mr. Cooper,” the nurse said shaking the shoulder of Gwen’s father, “Your daughters awake sir.” He jumped up rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Gwen, do you feel okay?” he asked.
“I’m alright,” she began, “What’s going on? No one will tell me what happened.” Tears bubbled in her eyes as she spoke. Her father sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that Gwen had seen many times before. He looked at the nurse and she nodded at him before turning to walk out of the room.
“Do you remember going camping with your mother?”
“Yes, there were a large group of people there, and they were celebrating something.”
“Some of them attacked you and your mother. You were badly beaten. You almost died.”
“What about mom? Where is she? Is she okay?”
“She died,” he answered in a hollow voice. Gwen felt light as if she was floating above the scene. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be her life. This had to be a dream or a movie. This wasn’t her life. Her mother wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead.
“Gwen, Gwen,” her father called her name pulling her back into the scene. “I have to tell you something else,” she just stared at him blankly, “You were raped.”
Gwen closed her eyes. She focused on the blackness the nothingness. She didn’t want to feel, not this pain, not this hurt. Her mother dead and herself alive. She wished she had died too. She didn’t want this any of it. She allowed herself to lose awareness of everything around her, of her body, of her mind. She simply detached herself and lost herself in the numbness of an empty mind.

The days in the hospital passed by in a blur. Gwen remained hidden away in her mind. Unaware of what was happening to her. Unable to accept the horrors of her reality she had simply disconnected. People talked to her asked her questions, but she never responded. In rehab her body moved on its own. Gwen wasn’t about to help in the process. She didn’t want to get better. She wished she had died.
Gwen was so numb to her reality that she didn’t even register the vomiting that had become a daily occurrence. She didn’t hear the doctor’s and nurses commenting on how her may broken bones had seemed to miraculously heal themselves. She never heard them ask her father’s permission to do a blood test and she never heard him breakdown when the doctor’s told him she was pregnant.

There were three men wearing black masks, they approached Gwen and her mother. One grabbed her mother and she screamed. One of the men muttered a nonsensical word and Gwen’s mother fell to the ground as stiff as a tree. “NO,” Gwen screamed running towards her mother. A cold hand grasped her arm pulling her back in a painful embrace.
“Well, Well, what a feisty little muggle this one is,” the man laughed. Gwen struggled against his grasp trying to wrench herself free.
“Pretty too,” another chimed as he walked over to pet her cheek, “I bet she’s a virgin.”
“Let’s find out,” a third chuckled.
“No, please, no,” Gwen cried out. The three men laughed. She could smell the stench of alcohol on the man that held her.
“Check her,” the tall man in charged ordered to a small squat fellow. The squat man walked towards her and when he was close enough Gwen kicked him in the leg.
“Filthy muggle,” the leader exclaimed before kicking her in the stomach. She groaned with pain, unable to double over. She felt the cool night air on her bottom as the squat man took advantage of the distraction to attend to his mission and a moment later she felt pain as he shoved an object into her.
“While she was a virgin,” he laughed as blood trickled down her leg. Gwen struggled against the man holding her only to get punched in the face. They threw her to the ground and she struggled and writhed against them as they kicked her repeatedly. One of them muttered something and her hands and legs feet were tied together. One of them held her down.
“Gwen,” a voice called, “wake up.” She felt herself being shaken and opened her eyes. She felt the sweat that clung to every inch of her body and felt her heart beating against her skin in a heavy monotony. The sheets of the hospital bed were twisted around her. It was dark in the room and images from her nightmare pressed to the front of her mind.
“Oh, god,” she whispered, “that’s what had happened,” she remembered it now. Every moment. Tears leaked from her eyes. Suddenly she felt a hand grasp hers and she nearly jumped off the bed.
“It’s alright, you are safe,” Gwen turned to see the speaker. It was a young woman with spiky pink hair. She wore a t-shirt and jeans. Her eyes stared into Gwen’s, “You remembered?”
Gwen nodded in response. “Who are you?” she asked,
“Tonks,” the woman responded, “Nymphadora Tonks, but I prefer just Tonks.”
“That’s different. Why are you here?”
“To help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well did you know that the doctor’s are talking about sending you to a psychiatric hospital?” Tonks asked.
“So?”
“You don’t want that do you?”
“I don’t really care.”
“If you talk to me about what happened you get to go home. If you don’t you go off to the crazy house with all the nice schizophrenics and bipolars. I hear it’s very cheerful there,” Tonks said oozing with sarcasm.
“What good does it do to talk? It doesn’t change what happened. It won’t make it go away.” Gwen stated in an almost feral growl.
“It will help you to accept what happened and move on.”
“My mother was killed. I was raped by three different men and now I am having one of theirs child and you want me to accept this?”
“You survived and you have your whole life in front of you to do whatever makes you happy, but you can’t do anything if you won’t move on and stop dwelling on the past,” Tonks prodded.
“What do you want to know?” Gwen asked. She gave in to humor the woman. “Once I get out,” she thought to herself, “I can end this.”

For the next couple of weeks Tonks came on a daily basis. The woman wore the strangest outfits Gwen had ever seen. One day she wore a pink dress with lime green polka dots and neon yellow shoes.
In their sessions Tonks began by asking Gwen about the general details of what happened on that night. Soon she prodded her for details about the men’s dress their voices and defining physical characteristics.
One day a man accompanied Tonks. Like Tonks he dressed in a bizarre fashion, but his was less of bold colors and more of just odd combinations. He was wearing a pair of plaid golf pants with a rain jacket (on a sunny day), steel toed boots, and a purple velvet vest layered over the rain jacket.
The man stood in the hallway as Tonks questioned Gwen of the details of that night. She asked her about the strange language she had heard and for a description of the men. Afterwards Tonks had a whispered conversation with the man in the hall. Gwen was able to make out a few bits of the conversation. At one point Tonks said, “It’s impossible to oblivate that selectively.” Gwen assumed it was the jargon of psychiatrists for that’s what she had assumed Tonks was.
“Well, Gwen our work together is done. You’ll be released in two days. Good luck,” Tonks said upon reentering the room. Gwen nodded. She had come to like Tonks but was ready to stop talking about the past. It was behind her. It would never be behind her, but Tonks had helped her to see that there was a future.

After two and a half months in the hospital Gwen returned home. Her muscles were still weak even though all her broken bones had completely healed. Her father helped her upstairs and settled her on her bed before leaving her alone to rest.
The room looked exactly the same as it had when she left that August day to go camping. Her trunk was at the foot of the bed packed with all the clothes, books, cds, and pictures that she had planned to take with her to school in France. Her black violin case leaned against it.
Gwen scooted down to the end of the bed and picked up the violin case. With it in her lap she pushed the latches back and top sprang open. She took out the violin. Its red wood shined in the sunlight that danced across her bed. She brought it to rest under her chin, with her right hand she picked up the bow.
Gwen inhaled deeply and placed the bow against the strings. She searched for the opening note of Mozart’s Sonata in C. She drew the bow back. Nothing, once the music had flowed through her effortlessly. It had been a natural flow that she had never needed to reach for, but now it felt forced. She placed the violin and bow back in its case and walked to her closet. She opened the door and placed it on the highest shelf.

As the months wore on, Gwen’s life consisted of rehab, doctor’s appointments and counseling. Her stomach continued to grow rounder and rounder. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the baby. She knew she didn’t hate it. It was not responsible for how it came into existence, but at the same time it was the representation of her horror.
When she was six months along her father announced to her that he had set up a private adoption. Gwen didn’t argue with him, she figured he knew best. Since the baby was taken care of Gwen started to think about what she was going to do with her life. She was checking her e-mail one day when she came across and advertisement for online courses in Criminal Justice. “Why not?” she thought to herself and signed up for a course.

Gwen’s baby boy arrived on a sunny May day after twelve hours of labor. He was perfect with alabaster skin, big blue eyes, and thick black hair. He looked just like her. Against the nurses advice Gwen had insisted on breastfeeding her little boy. Holding him in her arms she felt a love for him that never could have imagined. As he sucked at her breast she counted his perfect toes and felt the smoothness of his skin. She tugged the little blue cap over his head and kissed his cheek.
“Gwen,” her father said entering the room.
“I want to keep him,” she blurted out.
“No. You can’t handle a baby. Not now Gwen. Not like this. He will always remind you of the past.”
“I don’t care what his father did. I love him. He’s my son.” She paused, “Look at him. Look how perfect he is. And he looks like me.”
“Gwen you have enough of a burden taking care of yourself.”
“Gregory is my baby!”
“Gregory?”
“That’s his name. Gregory.” Gwen stated.
“You are still young. There is so much for you to experience that you can’t with a baby. You have enough holding you back already.”
“You talk about him as if he doesn’t matter.”
“Gwen, I don’t mean to, but you’re my daughter…”
“He is your grandson.”
“No.” he whispered. Gwen looked into his eyes and realized that he hated the child. For him the baby was the three men that had killed his wife and raped his daughter. If she was going to keep Gregory she would be completely alone without anyone’s help.

The next morning Gwen handed baby Gregory over to the couple that would be his parents. She hated them. Hated that they would be the ones to raise her child. She felt cold and empty when she passed him into the arms of the red haired woman. Her blue eyes lit up and Gwen felt the urge to punch her. They began to thank her. She felt like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi. Instinct took over and Gwen ran from the room as tears built in her eyes.
“Gwen,” her father yelled catching her in his arms. “Shush baby. It’s okay,” he soothed, “you did the right thing.” He rubbed her back while she cried into his shoulder.
“I don’t want them to have him,” she sobbed, “This doesn’t feel right. It’s not right. I want my baby.” Gwen turned to go back, to get Gregory, but her fathers grasp tightened.
“No. Let it go Gwen,” he started, “He belongs with them.”
“NO!” she screamed, “Let me go!” Her father picked her up and carried her out as she pounded her fists against his chest and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Three months later Gwen earned an internship at the London Police Department and moved into a flat by herself. She no longer talked to her father or anyone else for that matter. She gave her full concentration to her work and school. It paid off well. Within a year she had completed the necessary training to become a full fledged police officer. Her dedication did not go unnoticed and after a year of grunt work she was promoted to detective.


Authors Notes:
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I enjoy reading your comments and I welcome any constructive criticism you are willing to provide.
Yo hablo, leo, y escribo español. El semestre pasado yo fui a España y estudió en el Universidad de País Vasco.