"I'm going to beat his face in!" As I stomped towards the truck to deck the driver, an iron grip closed on my small arm. The cop seized my other arm and wrestled me back to the driver door, opening it with effort for me.
I pulled on my jeans and gathered my tattered pink shirt around me. I didn't know what a rape kit was nor did it cross my mind to ask for any kind of exam; I was exhausted and all I could think of was endless sleep.
I was barefoot, clad only in a thin tee-shirt and torn sweatpants. I saw the thoughts flying around behind his eyes; he could see I'd been smacked around and my bluing hands and face. He didn't cuff me.