If I could just go back and change things ... maybe I wouldn't keep on having these damned nightmares night after night after night ... or fear being home alone ...
This particular incident happened six months ago, just before Christmastime. I was walking home after work; I had worked the late shift, so it was dark out. It was after 11 in the evening when I'd finally left the restaurant where I was employed. I was in a hurry to get home, so I decided to take the shortcut.
It was cold out and snowy. The alley where I was walking was poorly lit; I didn't care: I just wanted to get home, to the comfort of my apartment, where I could make myself a cup of orange-flavored tea and put a fire in the fireplace to warm my chilled bones.
I didn't even hear the person that was walking behind me. One minute, I was walking home, with tea and a warm fire on my mind, and the next: I found myself on the ground, a big, hulking shape kneeling over me. I never was so terrified in my life; the fear only intensified when the gorilla-sized monster growled: "Not a peep from you, lady, or yer dead!"
The man started fondling me; he then unzipped my pants ... and that is all I remember before I mercifully blacked out.
When I came to, I was suprised to find myself in a hospital emergency room, lying on a bed. Doctors and nurses were busily scurrying about, messing with IV lines and checking my eyes, pulse, blood pressure, breathing. I was confused: I didn't know what had happened, or how I ended up in the emergency room. I then remembered The Man, and I immediately started crying hysterically. I told the medical team that I was certain I had been raped.
After samples had been taken, a police officer that was at the hospital was sent in. He talked to me, asking questions about the incident. I told him I didn't know much; as I talked, I found myself growing more uncomfortable: I didn't want to talk about it. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
After my wounds had been treated, I was sent on my way. I was in no condition to drive, so a cab was called. I was then driven home, where I have been ever since. I haven't been able to go to work; my emotions have been on high alert mode. I don't know if I will ever get over The Incident; it's been six months, but I have been depressed and unable to go back to my job. I keep seeing The Man's face leering lustily at me and hearing his low, growly voice.
I know I will have to go to the police station repeatedly to talk to the police about the incident. I just hope I can make it ... I'm just thankful I'm still here: the thug could have easily killed me, but maybe there was a reason that he didn't. I also know that there will be court time once the suspect is caught ... that is, if he is ever found.
*End of part one.*