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TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, PHYSICAL ASSAULT, & INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS VIEWERS' DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
THE FIRST THING MARTHA HOLLAND REMEMBERS is kissing JJ goodbye as they were pulled away from each other. Her boyfriend told her: it's going to be okay, as Deputy Shoupe forcefully pushed him into the available holding cell.
She remembers yelling at him to lay off just to be pulled back into a brightly lit room.
The second thing Martha Holland remembers is the smell of cigarette smoke —not the good kind—and the deadly lighting bouncing off the decrepit brick walls. They were painted in a dull yellow, the color of wilted sunflower petals, dead and undisturbed like a morgue.
The lights were blinding, too blinding that her eyes burned and her tears turned red.
She sat there in that dingy-looking room for what seemed like hours. The chair was uncomfortable, the backrest bumpy and curved a certain way where it jutted out and stabbed her tender back. The overhead lights swayed from the low air conditioning, its yellow beams shining a spotlight on an anxious and sweaty girl.
The sound of the door hinges creaking and its slamming thud rang through the girl's eardrums. It was defiant, especially when she heard the lock click closed. Shutting her out wasn't the best thing she needed right now, but how were they supposed to know that?
The sound stuck with her, overcoming her other senses, it was on repeat like a broken record; the beat scratching some part in her brain. It was better than the voices in her mind:
How's JJ? Is he hurt? Where's John B? I wonder how Pope is doing with his father. I hope Kiara is okay. What about my parents? What's going to happen with Sarah and Wheezie when this blows over? Will Topper and Kelce get into trouble? Will they believe me? Will my parents believe me? Will the town believe me? Fucking hell, is Midsummer tonight? Good job Martha. Way to ruin everyone's night. Fucking idiot.
She shut her eyes, her brain jumping back to the sound. It was definitely better than being suffocated in this silent room by her own mind. She blacked out everything else, for a long, long time.
Until, the rusted hinges creaked back open again, revealing a person.
Sheriff Peterkin looked at her with pitiful eyes. She was the only available female officer that Marty trusted to tell her story to.
She was also the head of Sexual Trauma Cases, it was a job that was given to her as a joke because no one is dumb enough to actually report that stuff around Kildare County. In too many cases the victims get paid off to keep silent, too many times the police officers, assaulter's families, and the local townspeople blame the victim until they're too afraid of saying anything. Until that is, someone is brave enough to step up.
