A Boyfriend who Likes to Play Pranks

After he was gone, a female officer came to comfort me. At 2 AM, they drove me back to our apartment. I showered and lay in bed, unable to sleep.

Just after sunrise, Mark’s mother called. Her voice was shrill, accusatory.

“You put my son in jail! How could you be so cruel?!”

I blinked back tears, stunned into silence. Mark’s mom was usually so timid, so gentle. This furious, aggressive tone was completely foreign. She was defending her son, demanding “justice” for him.

She continued her tirade, then switched to sobbing.

“Jenna, honey, Mark was wrong, but he’s truly sorry. Please, can’t you forgive him? We’ll do anything, we’ll compensate you any way you want!”

“We’re not a wealthy family. Mark has worked so hard his entire life. He put himself through college, got a good job… it hasn’t been easy for him. If you send him to prison, you’ll ruin his life!”

Her cries were a physical assault, pounding against my skull.

“Jenna, please, have mercy. Let him go.”

Her words twisted the narrative, making me feel like the villain. I couldn’t breathe. I hung up. The silence was a relief. I went to the living room. Mark’s untouched dinner sat on the table.

I looked away, my chest aching. Seven years. We’d had something real. I wouldn’t have kept forgiving him otherwise. I didn’t want it to end like this. But I couldn’t erase the night before. I couldn’t just forgive and forget.

I grabbed a piece of bread from the fridge, forcing myself to eat. A knock at the door. My parents. My mom rushed in. “Mark’s mother called. You had him arrested?”

I nodded silently. My parents exchanged a look. My mom pulled me into my room, closing the door behind her.

“Tell me what happened.”

Looking at her face, the tears I’d been holding back finally came.

“Mom…”

I told her everything.

“That bastard!” she raged. “He thinks that’s a joke?!”

She hugged me tight. “Jenna, I support you. You were the one who was hurt. Whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you.”

Her words were a lifeline. Since last night, I’d been drowning in a sea of conflicting emotions, questioning myself, wondering if I was being too harsh.

My dad knocked on the door.

“Jenna, come out here. Mark’s father just called. His mother… she’s tried to kill herself.”

At the hospital, standing by Mark’s mother’s bedside, my heart sank. She’d tried to hang herself but had been found in time. Now, awake but distraught, she kept repeating that if her son went to prison, she wouldn’t live.

“Mrs. Thompson,” I pleaded, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You’re doing this to me!” Her face was drawn, aged by ten years overnight. A dark bruise circled her neck. Her eyes were filled with hatred. Then, in an instant, her expression changed.

“Jenna, please, drop the charges. Mark’s my only son. If he goes to jail, I’ll really kill myself!”

“Jenna, do you really want me dead, Mark in prison? Do you want to live with that on your conscience, knowing you destroyed our family?”

“Okay, Mark went too far, but you didn’t lose anything! You’re going to marry him anyway. It’s not like you lost your… purity…”

I snapped. “It’s not the same! Rape is rape!”

She stopped talking about that, but the tears continued, lamenting her hard life, Mark’s struggles. Her words, meant to guilt me, hit their target. I clenched my fists, silent.

Suddenly, Mrs. Thompson scrambled out of bed, knocking over a stand in her haste.

“Jenna, please, I’m begging you! Tell the police to drop the charges!”

She knelt before me, head bowed. I recoiled, horrified. I turned and fled. Outside, I sat on a bench with my mom.

“Mom, should I drop the charges?”

She hesitated. “Honey, I don’t think Mark deserves prison.”

Seeing my reaction, she continued. “He’s a good kid. I’ve met him plenty of times. He just made a terrible mistake.”

“Jenna, just let it go. Break up with him. We’ll find you someone better.”

As I wrestled with my thoughts, footsteps approached. Mark’s dad. He was a small, thin man, swallowed up by an oversized coat. He gave me a nervous smile.

“Mark’s mom fell asleep. Have you two eaten? Let me buy you lunch.”

I turned away, unable to meet his eyes. I stood up and walked away.

“Jenna…” My mom started to follow. “Mom, please. Just let me be alone.”

I locked myself in my apartment for two days. Then, I decided to drop the charges. I couldn’t destroy a family, even theirs.

But at the police station, as I explained my decision, the officer’s face went white after taking a phone call.

“Ms. Miller, the lab results just came back. The DNA from the… the semen… it doesn’t match Mark Thompson’s.”

My stomach lurched. “What?”

The officer’s voice was a hammer blow. “It’s not a match.”