When they were finally torn away from her, Kerry Sherman lay naked, on her side, in the middle of a circle of helmet-cam spotlights, quivering, cum coursing down her face and body, while drooling from her mouth, ears, cunt, and ass.
“Yes,” Kerry’s father said unevenly. “Yes, we know she had been assaulted….”
“No, no,” the doctor interrupted, “not that. Of course that was a terrible experience for the poor girl, but she is young. Her body will quickly recover. I know that may not seem possible to you now, but I assure you it will. But I am referring to what happened afterwards.”
“Afterwards?” Kerry’s mother echoed emptily.
“Yes, afterwards,” the doctor said evenly, but with emphasis. “You must face it as she must face it. If you are not honest with yourself about it, you cannot be honest with her about it. And you must. You must!”
He quickly turned off the video of the girl’s rescue on the tablet only he could see, cued up the next video, and turned it to her parents who sat opposite him.
It was Kerry in the recovery room, wearing only a hospital gown, grabbing at the doctors and nurses and all but shouting. “It was them! The innkeepers! They did this to me! They grabbed me! Tied me up, gagged me. Raped me … over and over again…!”
“Yes, yes,” said a harried nurse. “I’ll go get the cops…”
“No!’ Kerry screamed, clutching at her. “They’re in on it! They took me to their jail! They kept me there, fucking me every chance they got, until they gave me to the bikers! Don’t you understand? THEY gave me to the bikers!”
Doctor Jennings froze the image and turned the tablet back toward him. His face was grave as he looked to each parent.
“You must understand,” the shaken father started, “she’s been through a horrible ordeal….”
“Of course,” said Jennings. “Of course, but we must tend to her severe and shocking reaction. Unable to grasp the horror she has been put through, she projects it upon those around her who she subconsciously feels should have somehow protected her from it. She cannot blame herself or you, so she lashes out at the innkeepers and police.”
Mrs. Sherman started to quietly cry, gripping her husband’s hand like a life preserver.
“You must be strong for your daughter’s sake,” Dr. Jennings said firmly. “In everything you say and do with her, you must not accept her fantasy, lest it become real, and then permanent. And if it becomes permanent, any chance of full recovery becomes remote.”
Now he had their full attention. “What can we do, doctor?” Kerry’s father asked.
Doctor Jennings got up and came to the other side of his desk. He sat his haunch there, looking down on the parents benignly. “You must continue to be the loving father and mother I know you are. And when you visit with her, you can say or do whatever you think best … EXCEPT agree with her delusions in any way.” He looked squarely at the woman. “Not even a ‘yes I know, but.’ Whenever your daughter tries to blame the innkeepers or the police, you must reply with ‘now, you know that’s not true, Kerry.’” He looked at one, then the other. “Do you understand?”
They nodded, unsettled.
TO BE CONTINUED....