Mouse says, “This feels so stupid. People have been attacking people as long as there have been people.” as she accompanies Maggie and Amelia on the path between Fyfield House and the central cluster of school buildings, which is now charmingly known as the ‘rape zone.’ “There was just as much need to be careful yesterday as today. This is not the first rape that has happened in Canada.”
Amelia tells her, “Actually, there is no rape in Canada.”
Maggie snorts dismissively. “What? Of course there is. What do you think happened to Natasha?”
“Under Canadian Law it’s not called rape. It’s called “sexual assault,” Amelia explains. “And it covers the whole range of sex crimes.”
“That’s just semantics.” says Maggie.
“It is important.” Amelia says, “It’s the legal definition.”
“It’s only important to English majors and lawyers, not to normal people.” Maggie says, “It doesn’t change the facts.”
Amelia says, “Actually it does. That’s why they try for precise language in framing laws. To cover every eventuality.”
“People will still be confused. Besides, ‘sexual assault’ doesn’t sound as bad as rape,” says Maggie.
Mouse interrupts. “What does it matter what you call it if we have to give up our own freedom and cower in our beds?”
“Come on. It isn’t that bad,” says Maggie.
“I am already tired of traveling in a pack.” says Mouse.
“All I care about is not ending up like Natasha.”
“Maybe we could go and visit Natasha.” suggests Mouse.
“That’s a good idea,” Amelia nods. “We could find out what really happened. Exactly. All I heard is she was found in the woods. Is that where she was attacked or what? Did she know him? Was he wearing a mask? If we know what actually happened we can all take better precautions.”
“That sounds like writing a story.” says Maggie flatly.
“Not at the moment. I’m not a journalist, Maggie. But I probably will write something eventually,” agrees Amelia. “That’s what I do. I’m a writer.”
“That’s sick. This is somebody you know.”
“Yes, I do know Natasha, which is why I want to visit her to see with my own eyes that she’s OK. If she wants to talk about it, fine. We’re friends, I’m there for her. If I were to write it, it wouldn’t be her story anymore. It won’t be tomorrow, and it won’t be her life, it would be a story. Fiction.”
“That sounds even worse. It just doesn’t sound right.”
“You’re looking at it all wrong. Think about it like …. you know when you guys talk about how an operating system is built around a kernel? Like that. Fiction is built around kernels of truth. Mixed up with imagination and reassembled as something completely different and new. Even fantasy and science fiction need to ring true or no one would read them.”
“It still sounds creepy. Like you’re being a vampire, sucking out all her pain and suffering to use in a story.”
Mouse silences their bickering by telling them, “Do you think Boris did it?”
Maggie says, “That’s just silly. It must be somebody else.”
“Why?” asks Mouse. “No one but you has seen the flasher but Boris is here all the time.”
“And why not Boris?” adds Amelia.
Maggie is exasperated. “Boris is the last guy who’d harm Natasha. He loves her.”
“I’ve done enough research to know women are usually hurt by their nearest and dearest. Cops always look at the husband or boyfriend. Boris has to be the prime suspect.” Amelia sighs.
“It could be random, you know. It could have been any man hiding in the trees.” says Mouse.
“Like my flasher.”
Amelia says, “Yes, like your flasher. But it could be any guy. A teacher. A janitor. A security guy. But odds are it’s another student, because predators almost always go after their own.”
Maggie glares at her house mates. “But I don’t want it to be somebody we know. Stop trying to scare me.”
Amelia says, “It’s smart to be aware. But being careful doesn’t mean we have to run scared and hide. But being a little on edge can keep us from doing stupid things.”
Mouse nods, “The world is wonderful but dangerous too.”
Maggie says, “I just want to feel safe again.”
