Tell Me The Truth ~ Peter x Harley

Trials and Tribulations

*TRIGGER WARNING: DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT*

*HARLEY'S POV*

Peter's right. I need to go to the police and have a trial. I really don't want to but I know I need to.

I need to look out for everyone else that Eric could assault too.

I walked over to Felicity's desk. "Hey," I ran my fingers through my hair. "I think I'm going to take off early today."

"Why?"

"I've got some stuff to do."

She sighed. "Okay. Let me know if you find anything out about Eric."

"I will."

I grabbed my stuff and ran out the door of the office, took the elevator, and then busted out into the NYC atmosphere.

I hailed a taxi and jumped inside. "3471 E 51st Street," I said as I buckled in. He drove me to my apartment.

When I got inside, I changed clothes into something more fancy than my casual work clothes. I decided to change into khakis, a navy blue button down shirt, and my everyday Converse sneakers. I was taking off my shirt when I noticed the dark bruises on my wrists for the first time. I pulled my shirt off slowly and my mouth dropped open. There were purple and blue bruises spotting my arms all the way down to my hands. I ran to the mirror in my bathroom. There were spots on my lower neck and shoulders, too.

I pulled my pants off and turned around. A line of bruises ran across my thighs from where he had pushed me into the desk.

I had no idea it was this bad...

I felt tears burn my eyes but fought them away. I finished getting dressed, brushed my tangled hair, and exited my apartment.

This is the right thing to do, I thought as I jogged down the stairs, you're doing the right thing. Peter was right. You're right.

I kept telling myself that all the way to the police station, but when I finally stood in front of the intimidating NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT sign, my breath hitched. I couldn't breathe.

Why am I doing this?! I could just let it go. Save tons of money, humiliation, and time. There's no real reason I should be doing this.

But then I thought of what Peter said:
"What about all the other possible targets out there, completely unaware that they might end up exactly like you?"

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. I need to do this for those future victims, who might not have to go through this if he gets put behind bars now. I need to do this for my family, friends, and Peter who would all want this. And I need to do this for me.

Quietly and slowly, I push open the door to the police station.

There's a lady at the reception desk with her hair in a bun. Nobody else is in the room except a couple of officers talking and laughing and a few people sitting in the chairs against the walls. I gulp as I look at all of them. My heart is thumping against my chest and I feel nauseous.

Why do I feel like the one that has committed the crime?

"Can I help you with something?" The woman at the desk has a thick Brooklyn accent. She smacks her bubblegum and looks at me with restless eyes.

"Um, yeah." I go up to the desk, "I need to report a crime." I notice her name badge: Suzanne.

Suzanne thrusts a clipboard at me. "Fill this out and give it back to me."