Take It Back. Kia Abdullah

of her back. Four Muslim boys. Four Muslim boys had raped a disabled white girl.

      ‘I—’ Jodie faltered. ‘I wasn’t going to tell anyone because …’ her voice trailed off.

      ‘You can tell me.’ Zara reached out and touched the girl’s hand. It was an awkward gesture but it seemed to soothe her.

      ‘Because if a month ago, you had told me that any one of those boys wanted me, I would have thought it was a dream come true.’ Hot tears of humiliation pooled in her eyes. ‘Please don’t tell anyone I said that.’

      A flush of pity bloomed on Zara’s cheeks. ‘I won’t,’ she promised.

      Jodie pushed her palms beneath her thighs to stop her hands from shaking. ‘Farid said he wasn’t going to touch a freak like me so Hassan grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. He’s so small, I thought I could fight him but he was like an animal.’ Jodie took a short, sharp breath as if it might stifle her tears. ‘Amir said he would hurt me if I bit him and then he … he put himself in my mouth.’ Jodie’s lips curled in livid disgust. ‘He grabbed my hair and used it to move my head. I gagged and he pulled out. He said he didn’t want me to throw up all over him and …’ A sob rose from her chest and she held it in her mouth with a knuckle. ‘He finished himself off over me.’

      Zara’s features were neutral despite the churning she felt inside. ‘What were the others doing?’ she asked gently.

      Jodie shook with the effort of a laboured breath. ‘I—I couldn’t see. They were behind me.’ She clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘Hassan pushed me and I fell to the ground. He tore my top and undid my jeans and then … he started.’ Jodie’s features buckled in anguish. ‘He—he came on my face, like Amir.’

      Zara closed her eyes for a moment, stemming the weakness knotting in her throat.

      Jodie’s words came faster now, as if she needed them said before they broke inside. ‘Hassan turned to Mo and said, “she’s all yours”. Mo said he didn’t want to but they started calling him names and saying he wasn’t man enough, so … he did it too.’ Jodie’s voice cracked, giving it a strange, abrasive texture. ‘Mo has sat next to me in class before. He’s helped me, been kind to me. I begged him to stop, but he didn’t.’ She swallowed a sob, needing to get through this.

      Zara listened as the words from Jodie’s mouth fell like black spiders, crawling over her skin and making her recoil. The sensation unnerved her. Part of Zara’s talent as a caseworker was her ability to remain composed, almost dispassionate, in the face of the painful stories told between these walls. Today, the buffer was breached.

      ‘Jodie.’ Zara swallowed hard to loosen the words. ‘I am so, so sorry for what you went through.’ Her words, though earnest, rang hollow, echoing in a chamber of horror. ‘We’re nearly there. Can you tell me what happened after?’

      ‘They just left me there.’ Her words held a note of wonder. ‘I wiped everything off me using some old curtains. I tucked my top into my jeans so it wouldn’t keep splitting open and then I walked home.’

      ‘Did you see anyone on the way? Any passing cars or revellers from the party?’

      Jodie shook her head. ‘I stayed off the path. I didn’t want to be seen.’

      ‘Were you injured at all? Bleeding?’

      ‘No.’ Jodie took a steady breath, appeased by the simplicity of this back and forth questioning.

      ‘What time was it when you got home?’

      ‘I walked for fifteen minutes so around twelve I think.’

      ‘Did you tell your mum?’

      ‘Not that night. She was in bed and I let myself in. I went to my bedroom and then I cleaned myself up.’ Jodie pointed at her backpack, a bare and practical navy so she couldn’t be teased for signs of personality. ‘I’ve brought the clothes I was wearing.’

      ‘Washed?’

      ‘No. I didn’t want to be stupid like you see on TV.’

      Zara blinked. ‘Jodie, nothing you did or didn’t do could be called stupid. Please understand that.’

      The girl gathered her perfectly formed hands in her lap but gave no sign of agreement.

      ‘Did you tell Nina or anyone else what happened?’

      ‘How could I?’ Jodie’s voice was soft but bitter. ‘How could I tell her that a boy who doesn’t even want her wanted me? How would she ever believe that?’

      Zara looked up from her notes. ‘Hey,’ she said, drawing Jodie’s gaze from her lap. ‘No matter what happens, I want you to know that I believe you.’ Zara studied her for a moment, noting the dozen different ways in which she kept control: the tensing of her jowls and the squaring of her jaw, the curl of her fists and feet flattened on the floor. ‘I believe you,’ she repeated.

      Fresh tears welled in Jodie’s eyes. ‘So you will help me?’

      ‘Yes, I will help you.’ Zara watched her wilt with relief. ‘Is there anything else I need to know? Anyone else who was involved?’

      ‘No. That’s everything.’

      Zara drew two lines beneath her notes. She watched Jodie dab at her dripping nose and wondered how a jury would view her. A rape trial usually hinged on power – one person stripping it from another – but in this case, it would be difficult not to consider desire. Zara believed Jodie – had seen too much devious behaviour, met too many appalling men to doubt the young girl’s story – but felt a deep unease at the thought of her facing a jury. Could they imagine four young men wanting to have sex with Jodie even in some twisted gameplay?

      Zara reached for her box of tissues and handed a fresh piece to Jodie.

      She took it with a quivering hand. ‘What happens now?’

      Zara’s lips drew a tight line, a grimace in the guise of a smile. ‘We would like to conduct a medical exam. All our doctors here are female. After that, if you’re ready, we can help you make a formal statement with the police.’

      Jodie blanched. ‘Can we go to the police tomorrow? I want to think about it for one more night.’

      ‘Of course,’ said Zara gently. ‘We can do the exam, store the samples and see how you feel.’

      Jodie exhaled. ‘Thank you for being on my side,’ she said, each few syllables halting before the next.

      Zara offered a cursory nod.

      ‘No, I mean it.’ Jodie hesitated. ‘I told you it was hard to be at that party alone. The truth is it’s hard to be anywhere – everywhere – alone.’

      Zara leaned forward. ‘You won’t be alone in this – not for any of it.’ She gestured to the door. ‘If you want me in the exam room, I can sit with you.’

      Jodie considered this but then shook her head. ‘I’ll be okay.’

      Zara led her to the exam room and left her with the forensic medical examiner, a brisk but matronly Scotswoman who ushered Jodie inside. Zara shut the door with a queasy unrest. A small, delinquent part of her hoped that Jodie would change her mind, that she would not subject herself to the disruptive, corrosive justice system that so often left victims bruised. The law stress-tested every piece of evidence and that included the victim – probing, pushing and even bullying until the gaps became apparent.

      Beneath her concern, however, she knew that Jodie needed to pursue this. A horrifying thing had happened to her and only the arm of the law could scrub the stain clean and serve justice.

      Erin Quinto watched the strange little girl walk to the exit with Zara, her metronomic shuffle almost jaunty in its