Date: Tue, 07 Oct 2003 21:48:50 -0700 From: RC in Sacramento Subject: Becka the Beast, Chapter 13 This is a work of fiction from a first time author. It depicts acts of sex and sexuality between two teenage females. If such content disturbs you, or you are under 18, get out and stay out. As always, this story can only be reproduced by consent of the author. Becka the Beast by Sacwriter Chapter 13*** Hours had passed, and by now the waiting room of the hospital seemed to have shrunk in size, filled as it was by the presence of the entire Cameron family. Gia sat on the plastic couch next to her father wearing a green surgical shirt, a loaner from one of the hospital's staff. The loose shirt was made for a woman, but still it seemed to fit the girl like a tent. That and the presence of the four male Camerons made her seem even smaller and frailer than ever. Gia and her father had spent the preceding hours filling her brothers in on the events of the past two weeks. Gia had told it all, holding nothing back except for the sexual nature of her and Becka's relationship. The faces of the trio had grown grim as Becka's tale of loss and abuse had been laid out, causing some of the hospital staff to glance at them nervously. George and Johnny both paced the room a lot, flexing their hands into fists, while Bobby leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed and a brooding look in his eyes. Concern for their sister and her friend was obviously the only thing keeping them from taking to the streets, in search of Ralph Danning and his perverted friends. The presence of her family was a comfort to Gia, but that comfort only went so far. She hated hospitals, and she knew her feelings were shared. The cheap plastic and chrome furnishings, the antiseptic smells, and the disembodied voice of the intercom brought back the vivid memories of another hospital, where the family had also sat in vigil over a loved one. For fourteen hours they had waited, while doctors and nurses had stitched Lupe Cameron up like a torn rag doll, futilely trying to mend the damage caused by a drunk in an old pickup truck. Scars that the girl had thought long healed were once more ripped wide, and a cruel fate was busy rubbing salt into the open wounds. Gia was leaning against her father's broad shoulder, trying to soak up some of his big, bearish strength. She needed that strength, to keep the world from shrinking down into a small, screaming thing. The tension and fear of the whole miserable day left her feeling wrung out and exhausted, and she was now on the verge of falling asleep under the protection of her father's arms. But still she came instantly awake when she felt him tense up. A tall doctor in stained greens came through the door from the ER, looking around and calling out. "Is there a Gia Cameron here?" he asked, looking around. "Here!" Gia was on her feet in an instant, and then across the room and facing the doctor. "How is she? How's Becka? Is she going to be all right?" The doctor looked down at the young girl and smiled. He put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Miss Cameron, your friend is going to be all right. She was hurt pretty bad, and she lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be just fine. Now, I need to talk to your parents, okay sweetie?" Gia felt a flash of annoyance at the doctor's condescending attitude, but forced it down. Adults who treated her like she was six years old were a major pain, but right now her sense of relief was too great for her to get too angry about it. Still she wasn't about to be shoved to the back of the room while the 'grownup's were talking about the woman she loved. Before Gia could open her mouth and put her foot in it, her father stepped up and shook the doctor's hand. "Doc, I'm Phil Cameron, Gia's father. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of my daughter. She and Becka are really close, she has as much right to hear this as I do." "Dr. Aubrey Lorne, and I'm sorry Mr. Cameron but I can't discuss Becka's condition with either of you. I'm afraid that's confidential information that I can only share with Becka's family or else her legal guardian. The only reason I told your daughter this much was because Becka insisted." "But Becka's an orphan!" Gia put in, her voice rising. "And the only legal guardian she has is the same guy that put her in here." Dr. Lorne raised an eyebrow and looked at Gia's father, who acknowledged the statement with a nod of his head. The medical man then rubbed his jaw, considering. "Well, that certainly explains why the police are here. And why they're interviewing a minor without a family member present." "What?!!" Gia suddenly snapped, making the doctor retreat a step. "You let the cops in there to interrogate Becka like she's some sort of criminal, but you won't let us in? Dammit, no!" Before he could stop her, Gia had pushed past the doctor and burst through the swinging doors that he had just come from. "Hey! You can't go in there," the man shouted, trying to go after her, but Phil's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Yeah Doc, she can," he replied, as he and his three sons filed past, following in the wake of the young girl. The medical man stared after them for a moment and then shrugged, bowing to the inevitable, and followed at the tail end of the small parade. * * * Gia ran from room to room, pushing open the doors and sticking her head in just long enough to see that Becka wasn't there, and then moving on. Finally near the end of the hall she opened one door and saw three people grouped around a bed; a nurse, a uniformed policeman, and a man in a rumpled suit who looked vaguely familiar. The blue uniform tipped her off, as she burst into the room and called out, "Becka!" Three heads turned around, and from the bed behind them came Becka's voice, calling her name. "Gia! I'm over here, Gia!" Gia didn't let anything get in her way, she shoved past both the cop and the guy in the suit, and found Becka sitting propped up in the hospital bed, with an I.V. needle and tube in her arm. Gia just had time enough to notice the swelling of a black eye on Becka's face before she was in the other girl's arms, afraid to hug her tightly but unable to resist holding her at all. She felt the sting of tears, and a tightness that she had held inside for hours suddenly seemed to dissolve. "It's all right, Gia. I'm okay, I'm okay. It's all gonna be fine, honey. Shhhh, shhhh," Becka murmured. Gia was trembling, and for the first time in their relationship, she found herself being the one to be comforted. Behind her, the uniformed policeman cleared his throat. "Ahh, miss? I'm sorry miss, but we're going to have to ask you to leave until we finish questioning Miss Jackson - " "It's all right, Becker. Gia and I are old friends." The gruff voice behind her was familiar too, but her curiosity wasn't enough to make her abandon the death grip she had on the other girl. She buried her face in Becka's lank hair and whispered, "I was so scared! Are you really all right?" "Yeah, baby, I'm fine. I'm sore, but I'm okay. How about you?" "I'm a wreck! They wouldn't tell us a thing until just a few minutes ago. And that dork in the ugly green doctor clothes still won't give us any details. But what about these cops? You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to, you know." "No, it's okay, Gia. I asked for them to come." Becka released Gia enough to look in her eyes, and when she did the younger girl saw something she hadn't seen there before. She saw a quiet strength, one not backed up by the fierce demons of rage and pain, but rather by something deeper within the girl herself. It was the strength of someone who had been sorely tested by fire, and had come back like tempered steel, someone who was ready to fight back. It made Gia's heart glow with pride. She knew then that Becka Jackson would never be anybody's victim, ever again. "Hey, does your Dad know that cop over there?" Gia turned around, and saw that her father and brothers had entered the room. Phil Cameron was just shaking the hand of the man in the suit and talking to him familiarly, and for the first time Gia remembered where she had seen him before. "Uh huh. That's David Caruso, he and his kids go to our dojo. I'd forgot that he was a cop. What have you told him so far?" "Most of it. I've told him about Ralph, and the abuse, how it started and stuff. And I told him about Ralph dealing drugs, he was real interested in that, I could tell. And I told him about you, but not about, well, you know." Gia grinned. "Yeah, I do. I left that part out with my family, too." "Gia, how do you think they'll take it? When they find out that we're lovers, I mean." Becka now held the other girl's hand in hers, squeezing it nervously. Gia saw that the question was really troubling her. "Honestly? I don't think there'll be any problem, but I can't really be sure. We've never had any reason to talk about it before. But what I'm mostly worried about right now is us getting custody of you. Some judge somewhere is going to have to decide about that, and we don't want to give some homophobic old fart any reason to say you can't live with us. I think we better keep this to ourselves for now, 'k?" "Okay. Hey, did you see the way I laid into Ralph?" Becka asked, grinning. Gia grinned right back, and gave her friend a light punch in the arm. "I sure did! He was choking me bad, and then suddenly you're all over him, swinging that bottle like a crazy woman. You must've hit him a dozen times, even after it broke. Man, there was blood all over the place!" "Yeah. I was so scared of him, I couldn't do anything but just lie there. But then he started hurting you, and I had to do something! I guess I was more scared about you, than I was scared of him." Gia smiled, stroking the palm of Becka's hand. "Yeah, I guess so. Now you're my hero." * * * "Umm, girls? Dave here still needs to ask you some questions. You too, Gia. He wants to know exactly what you saw happen today." Gia looked up at her Dad as he and Detective Caruso approached. Caruso wasn't a big man like her father, but he moved with an athlete's confidence, and Gia remembered how fast he was on the practice mats. He smiled at her now, reminding her of his little boy Eric's happy grin. She had been Eric's first karate teacher, and thinking of him now made it easier for her to trust this man. She gave Becka's hand a reassuring squeeze, as she prepared to tell her side of what had happened. "Wait a minute, I want to talk to the doctor first," said Becka. "Dr. Lorne, you said there was something I should know when those tests were done. What were you talking about?" Dr. Lorne looked uneasily at the small crowd gathered in the hospital room. "Umm, Becka, what I have to say is rather personal. You might want to wait until we have some more privacy." "No," Becka said, shaking her head. "I don't have any secrets from Gia. Or from her family. Just tell us what you found out, okay?" "Do you mind if I listen in too, Miss Jackson? Your medical condition will have a major affect on our case when we bring charges against your stepfather." "He's not my stepfather! Gia said he never really married my Mom, so don't call him that. And if it'll help put Ralph away then yeah, you can stay too. Doc?" Dr. Lorne still looked uncomfortable, but he nodded anyway and began. He spoke as if he were reading from a report, or testifying in front of a courtroom. Gia was convinced that he had done just that more than once in the past. "In my professional opinion, Miss Jackson displays injuries consistent with a violent sexual assault, having occurred sometime within the last six hours. She has extensive swelling and tearing of both the exterior and interior vaginal walls, indicative of a foreign object far too large in diameter to be a human penis, having been forced through the vaginal opening. This resulted in extensive although not extreme blood loss, and required three stitches to close. And before you ask, no, Detective, there is no way that these injuries could be self-inflicted. "Becka also has recent bruising on her arms and wrists and throat, also consistent with a struggle. By the width and severity of the marks, they were made by the hands of an adult male. There is also a large bruise on the back of Becka's head, caused by an impact against a hard, flat surface." "The wall," put in Gia, her soft voice carrying easily in the crowded room. "I saw them fighting through the window, and he threw Becka up against the wall a couple of times." The doctor nodded, and then continued. "That would probably be it. Becka also has swelling on the left side of her face, consistent with receiving at least two hard blows from a closed fist. One over the occipital bone, and one just below the left cheekbone. The later chipped an incisor and left an interior cut on her upper lip which required two stitches. "As I said, Detective, all of Becka's injuries are consistent with her version of the assault, and I am perfectly willing to testify to that in court. However, there is something else we discovered during Becka's examination, something that could have a bearing on your case against her assailant. "There is extensive scarring to Becka's vaginal walls and uterus, scars almost identical to the tearing that just occurred. This isn't the first time this sort of assault has happened to Becka." Gia gasped, her head swiveling to look down at the other girl, but Becka wouldn't look back. Instead she returned the Doctor's level gaze with one of her own, and answered in a tone so flat she could have been talking about the weather. "Yeah, he did it to me once before, about two years ago. Only then he used this sawed off pool cue he has. He was using meth that night, too, meth always makes him crazy." Becka turned to Detective Caruso and continued her explanation. "See, it was like I told Gia, most of the time Ralph wasn't really all that dangerous. Maybe twice a week when he was in town, he'd make me suck him off, but that was it, you know? He didn't screw me all that much 'cause I'd go away in my head and just lie there and wouldn't move or anything, and he didn't like that. And I wouldn't even have to do that when he was stoned, 'cause then he couldn't get it up, you know? "But meth is different, it makes Ralph really mean. That first time when he used the pool cue he wouldn't let me go to a doctor, so I got this infection. I had a really bad fever for a couple of days, but I took some antibiotics that I had left over after Mom died. I can't remember what they were called, but the bottle was almost full, and I just followed the directions until they were all gone. Anyway after that I knew better, and I stayed away whenever Ralph used meth, except for today." Gia watched the faces of the other occupants in the room, remembering her own reaction the first time Becka had talked so casually about her abuse. She saw the shock followed by the queasy feeling of nausea on the faces of her father and brothers, but saw only a grim hardness on those of the doctor and the nurse and the two police officers. They had obviously heard such tales before, and if not exactly immune, they were at least more inured to it. But Gia also felt the tremor in Becka's hand, and for the first time she realized how false the other girl's bravado was. She talked tough and made light of her ordeals, but that was just her way of lessening its effect. It was a hard shell she wore, but inside she knew the other girl was as raw and bleeding as an open wound. There was a moment of silence following Becka's last statement, with all the men in the room having trouble deciding where to focus their eyes. Finally Detective Caruso cleared his throat, and spoke to the doctor. "Are your findings consistent with this last piece of Miss Jackson's statement, Doctor?" "Yes, it is," Dr. Lorne said, nodding. His professional expression was suddenly replaced with a scowl. "And there's something else I have to tell Becka, but it has no bearing on this case. And I absolutely refuse to talk about it with anybody but her! Who she decides to tell it to afterwards is entirely up to her, but for right now I am invoking my authority as her doctor and clearing this room until I've consulted with my patient. Which means everybody out, now!" With a hasty sound of shuffling feet the room was soon cleared, a small parade of cops and Camerons gathering out in the hallway. Gia was stubbornly ready to defy Doctor Lorne or anybody else who tried to separate her from Becka, but the other girl nodded and told her it was alright. Gia gave her hand one more squeeze, and then followed the others out into the hallway. * * * Gia spent the next fifteen minutes giving her statement to Detective Caruso, who had Officer Becker write it down. When she was done she read it over, agreed that it was accurate, and then signed it. Detective Caruso then had her father also sign it as a witness, stating that a parent's signature was always best when taking a statement from a minor. Phil had just finished signing when the door behind him opened, and a sober faced Dr. Lorne came out. He nodded to the Detective, and then spoke to Gia. "Miss Cameron, I think Becka really needs to see you right now." He held the door open, and Gia entered without a word. Gia got halfway across the room and then suddenly stopped, shocked at what she saw. Becka was now sitting sideways on the bed, her legs hanging over the sides. Gone was the battered but still defiant young woman, the one who had survived all of her torments with dignity. In her place there was now just a girl, her face twisted in anguish, twin rivers of tears flowing down her cheeks. Gia had the absurd thought flash through her head that Becka couldn't possibly have that much salty water still left inside her body. Gia slowly approached the other girl, unsure of what she should do. She reached out and took Becka's hands, looking into her eyes. The pain there brought a sympathetic ache to her own soul. She was only vaguely aware of the people watching them from the open doorway. "Becka?" she said, hesitatingly. "Gia, I - he, he said that it was the infection, the old one. He said there was, there was ... scarring, on my f-fallopian tubes. He said that I can't have ... Gia, I can't ever have babies!" Becka lost it then, falling into Gia's arms, crying huge, wracking sobs of grief. Gia held Becka's heaving body, her own insides feeling like they were being ground between two bricks. She was totally lost, she didn't have any idea what to tell the other girl, how to lessen her pain and loss. She wanted to turn to her father for help, but instinctively she knew that would be useless. No man could ever truly understand what Becka had just lost, so instead she looked to the nurse, who had remained behind when the doctor had left. The older woman looked at her with sympathy, nodding her encouragement, but otherwise not interfering. Gia turned her full attention back to the traumatized girl in her arms and held her tight, swallowing past the tears she couldn't afford to shed, doing the only thing that she could for her; just be there. * * * Phil closed the door and turned back to the group of men gathered in the hallway, his face a study in rigid control. He looked at the police detective and said, harshly, "Well, Dave? Is that enough? Are you gonna go arrest that walking piece of garbage?" "Oh, yeah, you bet your ass I've got enough. I'll be knocking on that bastard's door with a warrant in about an hour." Detective Caruso was already dialing a number on his cell phone, but Phil's grip on his arm stopped him. He looked up at the other man, surprised. "Dave, I need you to hold off on that warrant for a few hours. I gotta go see this guy first." Anger sparked in Caruso's eyes, as he shook the big man's hand off and snapped, "Damn it, Phil! I know just how you feel about this son of a bitch, I heard that little girl too. But no way am I going to let you get your jollies playing vigilante on this guy. You think you'll be doing her or Gia a favor by getting thrown in prison along with this loser? Why the hell don't you think about what's best for them?" "I am thinking about them, Dave. Look, I've been talking to my lawyer about this all week. What happens to Becka when this guy goes to jail? You know she's just going to end up in the system, sent to some foster family or group home. Even if I apply for guardianship, it'll take months to be processed, and who knows what happens to her until then." "Alright, so what do you want to do, huh? You want to go down there and bend his arm until he signs over custody to you? Jesus Christ, Phil, you know he'll just call social services and recant as soon as we have him behind bars, and what'll you do then?" "I don't need him to sign over custody, Dave. All I need is a written statement from him giving us temporary responsibility. Look, it's like when someone's going to be in the hospital or away for a while, they give whoever's going to look after their kid a letter to that effect. It completely bypasses social services, and my lawyer says that as long as Danning's in custody we can use it to stonewall them for months, even if he does try to go back on it. Which gives us plenty of time to petition for Becka's guardianship. Hell, we could probably even hold them off for the next nine months until she turns eighteen, and can decide for herself. But we can only do this if we get him to sign before you bring him in, 'cause he sure as hell isn't going to sign anything after." Caruso rubbed the back of his neck, considering Phil's words. He paced back and forth a couple of times before he answered his old friend. "You'd have to get this thing notarized, you know that, don't you? Otherwise it's just your word against Danning's that he signed it at all. And who are you going to get at this time of night that'll look the other way when you strongarm this asshole? You'll be asking whoever it is to risk losing his license over this." "Stacey Chandler. He's my accountant, and he's a notary. Plus he's got three daughters of his own. I know Stacey, he'll jump on this as soon as I tell him Becka's story. Look, just give me three hours to set this up and I promise you, I'll deliver this scumbag right to your doorstep, and with all of his body parts still intact." "Huh. Just another concerned citizen doing his civic duty, right? Shit. All right Phil, bottom line is that I don't want to turn Becka over to foster care either, not after what she's been through. You've got your three hours, just don't make me regret this." "I won't, Dave. And thanks." Phil Cameron didn't waste any time. He called his sons together and explained the situation, and then gave them their orders. "Bobby, Johnny, you two wait here and keep an eye on the girls. Get them whatever they need, and make sure your sister gets something to eat, she probably hasn't had anything since breakfast. Make sure one of you is outside this door at all times, but give Gia plenty of time alone with Becka, she's the best equipped to handle something like this. George, you're coming with me." "You got it, Dad. Do you think this guy will give us any trouble?" "Hell, no. I'm bringing you along to keep me from killing him!" * * * Ralph Danning moaned in pain, as he took another draw from the bottle of Jack Daniels. The bottle was already half empty, but it still wasn't doing much for the agony that was the right side of his face. In his other hand he held a blood soaked washcloth to his head, which was finally beginning to staunch the flow of blood from the open gashes there. He had long ago given up trying to keep bloodstains off the leather couch he sprawled on, and now he just let the thick red drops fall where they would. For about the thousandth time that night he cursed the two young girls who had caused him so much pain. God damn it! Who would of thought that stupid cunt would've had the guts to do something like this? He hadn't even had to beat the little bitch in years, she'd either blow him or just roll over and spread her legs whenever he'd wanted a piece of her ass. Shit, she wouldn't even make a sound when he stuck it in her, just roll her eyes up into her head and look away. He'd had the bitch trained. But now suddenly she's hitting him with beer bottles and then carving on him like a fucking Christmas turkey. What the hell was going on? Ralph took the cloth away from his face and then poured some of the whiskey on it. He gritted his teeth and then pushed it back against his wounds, a gasp of fresh pain hissing through his clenched teeth. This wasn't the first time tonight he had done that to himself, but it was sure going to be the last. As soon as he finished the bottle of Jackie D, he'd call Mojo and have him bring his cousin the nurse over. She could use her little surgical kit and sew him up herself, just as she had done for some of the other boys when things got rough. The scars wouldn't look pretty, but it sure as hell beat going to the hospital and answering too many nosy questions. Questions that might end up going into a police report somewhere. Ralph moaned again, as a fresh wave of agony washed over him. Damnit, but he was gonna kill those bitches. If he had them here, he'd take this bottle of Jack and use it to split them open like gutted fish. By God, he'd make them scream and beg until they were spitting up blood. Then he'd take the broken glass, and he'd - Ralph didn't finish the thought, his vicious little fantasy being rudely interrupted by the sound of his front door exploding. Or at least it was kicked in so hard that it sounded like an explosion. A startled Ralph dropped the rag and bottle of whiskey and tried to scramble to his feet, as three men stormed through the broken door. The one in front, the goddamned meanest looking greaser he had ever seen, was coming right for him. With an angry roar like something out of one of those kung fu movies the greaser brought his arm up and then down like an ax, slamming it on the coffee table in front of Ralph and breaking it in half with a sound like a shotgun going off. The big scary dude then kicked the pieces out of the way, as he reached out and grabbed Ralph by the throat. Ralph only had time to make a tiny bleating noise, as he felt himself hauled through the air and slammed up against a nearby wall. The scary dude then stuck his scowling face right up into Ralph's terrified one, and spoke with the voice of a man descended from bloodthirsty Mayan warriors. "Knock, knock, asshole." Ralph's alcoholic haze was quickly being burned off by his terror, and he desperately looked to the other two intruders for help against the crazy greaser who held him against the wall. But the second guy was just a younger version of the first, like they were related or something, and his face was wearing the exact same expression of anger and contempt. There was obviously no help for Ralph there, so he turned to the third guy and felt a faint flicker of hope. The guy was white, thank God, and what's more he had short hair and a suit. Suits were good, guys who wore suits were the kind of guys who always followed the rules and never broke the law, and who would never stand by and let a fellow white man get killed by a couple of spicks. Ralph turned pleading eyes to the guy in the suit, desperately trying to communicate the bond that one white, God fearing American should feel for another. Then Ralph got a look at the expression on the white guy's face, and he felt his bladder begin to weaken. The greaser holding him against the wall slammed him against it again, apparently just to get his attention. "Listen up, you worthless piece of crap! We're here to talk about the two little girls you beat on and tried to rape today. You remember them, don't you, asshole? Because one of them was my daughter!" Ralph's bladder finally let go. (continued)