“That’s impossible!” I cried. “How can it not be him?”
If it wasn’t Mark, then who was it? Why would he lie?
My mind spun.
The officer, seeing my distress, rushed to my side. “Ms. Miller, please calm down. We need you to try and remember everything you can about that night…”
Her voice faded. Flashes of that night assaulted
- me. The dark alley, the dirt, the ripping fabric…
I couldn’t breathe. Exhaustion, stress, and the
trauma crashed over me. The room went black.
I woke up in a hospital bed. The doctor said I’d
<
7:02
83
collapsed from stress and had been
unconscious for a day. My parents were there,
their eyes red–rimmed from worry.
An officer was with them. He said he just
wanted to check on me, but when I asked about
the case, he hesitated.
“Jenna, let’s talk about this when you’re feeling
better. You’ve been through a lot…” My mom
stroked my hair.
Their concern only fueled my anxiety. Why were
they looking at me with such pity?
“Officer, has there been a break in the case?
Please, just tell me. I can handle it. I need to
know.”
He sighed, pulling up a chair. “My name is
Detective Sullivan. Mark Thompson confessed
last night.”
<
“Confessed to what?”
“He confessed to soliciting someone to rape you.”
I stared at the ceiling, the words slowly sinking in. Solicited… So it wasn’t Mark. It was
someone else.
My last shred of hope crumbled. I was silent for a long time.
I finally turned to Detective Sullivan, my face a mask of despair. “Who?”
“His cousin, David Thompson.”
I vaguely remembered the name. David was two
years younger than Mark, a high school dropout
who’d drifted from odd jobs to a brief stint as a
mechanic’s apprentice before landing in the
city, chasing empty promises of opportunity.
He’d ended up a petty criminal.
<
He’d come to our apartment once, for dinner. I hadn’t liked him. Shifty eyes, a sly smile. After he left, I noticed a Chanel necklace missing from my dresser. I suspected him, and Mark had gotten defensive when I brought it up. I’d told Mark never to bring him over again.
“Why?” I croaked. “What was his motive?”
Detective Sullivan’s face tightened. “According
to Mark, he wanted you pregnant.”
“What?” I stared at him, incredulous.
The detective looked uncomfortable. “He said…
he said that he comes from a modest
background, and your family is well–off…”
He explained that Mark wanted to marry me, partly because he cared about me, but also for
my family’s money. He’d been playing the long
game, showering me with affection and
attention, knowing he’d never find anyone
<
I was an only child. My parents owned a small
business. I was set to inherit everything. Mark
wanted a piece of that pie.
He’d hinted at marriage several times, but I’d
always brushed him off, saying I was too young,
focused on my career. He stopped asking, but
his desire to lock me down intensified. He was
terrified I’d meet someone else, someone more
successful.
“Why his cousin?” I asked.
The detective hesitated. “Because Mark
Thompson has Kartagener syndrome. It’s a… a
form of male infertility.”
I was stunned.
“We checked his medical records. It’s true.”
He said Mark had secretly replaced my birth
<
control pills, but after months, I hadn’t gotten
pregnant. Unsure why, he’d finally gone to see a
doctor.
The diagnosis had sent him into a panic. He
was convinced I’d leave him if I found out.
So he’d devised a plan. A plan to get me
pregnant, forcing me to marry him.
“So Mark hired David, staged this whole ‘prank,‘
had his cousin rape me, and planned to take
the blame, hoping I’d forgive him, thinking I was
pregnant, and we’d get married…” My voice
trailed off.
“Yes,” the detective confirmed. “Mark offered
David three thousand dollars. David, who was
deep in debt from payday loans, and who
already resented you, agreed.”
So David Thompson had raped me, at my
boyfriend’s behest.
The memories flooded back, vivid and brutal.
The alley, the dirt, the violation…
