All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
It was late one fall night in December, the 26th to be exact. I was on my way home from the “bad” part of town where my babysitting gig was. It was cold, dark, and raining. It was getting dark earlier than usual and I was still in the ghetto. I could hear gunshots start to go off, cars beginning to slow down and the staring eyes of the drivers. I took a shortcut through an alley that my parents told me to be careful of, but I was 15 when they told me that, I thought I could take care of myself then.
I walked down the alley, checking every shadow and every corner for something that would jump out at me. I could hear echoes of footsteps and stray animals, but I didn’t know where it came from. I reached the end of the alley, completely safe and unharmed. I was only a few blocks from my house, maybe a 10 minute walk. I began to walk down the dark, quiet street towards my house.
Halfway home I started to notice a shadowy figure following me. Every time I looked back, the man in black would turn and seem to be smoking or talking on the phone. When I turned on to my street, in the corner of my eye, I noticed the man in black began to pick up pace. I started to walk faster, taking longer strides. I looked all the way around and saw that he was at a full sprint now. Terrified for my life, I ran as fast as I could, but he was catching up fast.
I ran into my front door, my hands slamming hard into the wood. I scrambled in my bag for my keys, papers and tampons flying everywhere. I glanced back, he was only a few houses away. As I looked back into my bag and right at that moment I had grabbed my keys, within seconds I was in my house with the door locked. I was safe. I closed all the windows, blinds, curtains, everything was locked. I ran up the stairs into my room and locked that door. With a kitchen knife on my bedside table, I layed down trying to sleep, I only fell asleep three hours later when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more.
Days had gone by and nothing happened. I never noticed someone following me, I never felt someone staring at me. I assumed I was in the clear, that the creepy man in black had found some other girl to stalk. It was new years eve when I felt all the stress from that night of being chased just fade away. I had just been invited to the biggest party in town, though I wasn’t sure if it was a prank from my friends. I had found the invite in my locker and it said not to say anything to anyone because it was an invite only party and they didn’t want anyone crashing the party.
As soon as I got home I began to search for the perfect party outfit. Something new, something attractive. I wanted to make sure that I would be on the next invite list. I saw the long jean skirt that my aunt had bought for me last christmas. It was the only thing that would work. I ran down stairs, to the kitchen, to get a pair of scissors. I began to cut the skirt, I started with cutting off about two feet. When I put the skirt on it was only right above my knees. There was no way that i would get invited again. I picked the scissors back up. Sliding the metal up my leg to find the perfect length. When the scissors were only five inches away from my waist, I closed the blades together. There was no going back now. I finished cutting the skirt, the shortest thing I had ever worn. I grabbed my tank top with the lacing above the breasts and pulled on my knee high leather boots that my mom used to dress as a cop from before she was married.
I dashed outside before my father could get home, worried that he would make me change my clothes. I jumped into my car and opened the invite again. The address said, 809 South 5th street. That was in the neighborhood to the left of mine. I could see my dads car taking a turn towards the house. I hurried to put the key into the ignition and slammed on the gas.
Five minutes later I got a text from him asking, “Why in such a rush? Where are you off to?”
I quickly typed, “Studying with a friend. She is short on time.” I thought to myself, that was a quick one.
As I pulled up to the house I saw no cars like the typical party. The house had all the lights on and loud music, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there. I figured that everyone got dropped off, or maybe I was early. Either way, I was at a party! I rushed to the front door, not even noticing the lack of yard work or all the cameras set up around the house.
I knocked on the door, I thought it was strange that I didn’t hear anyone in the house, but what did I know, this was my first party. I stood on the front porch for five minutes before I saw the door knob turn. The door slowly opened, a messy haired young man poked his head through the crack and smiled.
He looked me up and down and asked, “What is your name? And how pretty you look.”
I smiled, “Oh, thank you. I’m Carley. I received the invite in my locker. Mind me asking who you are, I don’t recognize you from school.”
He opened the door just enough to let me in saying, “Oh you know me, you just don’t quite remember. You will though, don’t worry.”
I smiled and stepped into the house. I was hit by the smell of unwashed dishes and a pile of dirty socks. I thought to myself, he must live on his own. I looked around, It seemed dark, but all the lights were on. I peaked into the room over but as I did the man that let me in grabbed my arm.
With a stern look he said “Don’t go in there, thats private.” He took a breath and calmly said, “The party is downstairs, why don’t we head down there?”
Without even thinking I grabbed his arm and he smiled and led me down the stairs. The door, leading to what I assumed was his basement, was a three inch iron door. I should have been hesitant to go in, but he seemed so gentle. Once we were through the doorway he let go of my arm. I looked around wondering where everyone was. There was no one in sight. Thats when I heard the door close and lock, from the inside…
I spun around staring at this man in black. He only smiled, he walked towards me slowly backing me into a corner. All I could hear through the door was the faint sound of some screamo band. There was no way someone would hear my screams from in here. I looked around the room to see if there was anything I could hit him with. Nothing.
The room was dark. A bed in one corner, a toilet in the opposite corner of the room. That was it, minus the handcuffs attached to the bed. He was going to lock me in here, that thought wasn’t enough though. The dim lighting made it hard to see anything, I had lost sight of the man. I began to search for him. He had to still be in the room, I would’ve heard if he left, but I couldn’t see him.
As I turned to the corner opposite of the door, between the toilet and bed, I was grabbed from behind. Shoved into the corner face first, I yelped in pain as I felt blood trickle down my face. I felt one hand pressing against my back pinning me to the wall and another hand crawl up the front of my shirt. I tried hard to get out of his grip, begging and screaming. Right as his hand touched my right breast I swung my left foot back and it hit him right in between the legs. With one hand he held his crotch, with his other hand he grabbed my wrist and flung me on to the bed.
He glared at me, with dark, demon eyes. I curled up onto the bed as far as I could away from his. I felt my tears and blood from my lip begin to mix together while falling from my face. He smiled as me and said, “I’ll come back, you better be ready to cooperate. Get use to it.”
He walked out, locking the door. I laid down, smothering my face into the pillow. I cried myself to sleep that night. I stayed up all night, thinking of ways to escape. I thought of ways that I could use what he gave me against him. There was nothing I could do unless he messed up first.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. I jumped up but fell right back onto the bed. I looked down and saw that my left wrist was handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. The man walked in with two bowls of cereal. He handed me one bowl and pulled a chair from the hall into the room, sitting on it. I gave him a questioning look but ate anyway. We sat in silence for about five awkward minutes.
All of a sudden he looked at me and said, “My name is Trevor.”
I looked at him and asked, “What?,” not realizing what he was doing.
“I’m Trevor. I figured you might want to call me something.”
I looked at him in disgust, “Why would I even want to say your name.” At first he looked hurt, but he looked down and then looked back at me
With a crooked smile he said, “So you have something to scream at night.”
He stood up and left, leaving me locked to the bed and the chair sitting by door. I spent most of that first day thinking of a way to escape or avoid the assault from the night before. I flinched at every sound, every footstep I heard on the ceiling.
Days went by and nothing happened. Every morning Trevor would bring me the same bowl of cereal and leave me for the rest of the day. I had no dinner, no lunch, I must have lost five to ten pounds over the first week of being locked up. By then I had lost track of time, and days.
One morning, after breakfast, I had laid down for not even five minutes before I heard the door open again. I decided not to look. It was right before he left when he said something.
“Theres a bucket of water, a rag, and some soap. I figured you might want to wash maybe,” and he unlocked the cuffs and left.
I slowly turned around and crawled to the bucket of water and bathed myself. I walked around the room for what seemed like for ever. Feeling like it was dark out, I went to sleep.
I woke up to the feel of a breeze on my back. I tried to reach my right hand back to pull up the blanket, but I could only move my hand one inch. Then I felt a hand on my back. I tried to kick but my legs were cuffed to the bottom of the bed. I began to scream and shout and Trevor just laughed. I tried to move my body and shake him off me but that only made him put more of his weight on my back. His hands rubbed up my back and down. I begged him not to do it, I pleaded with him not to rape me, but he didn’t listen to me. He layed on my back all night.
I woke in the morning to the usual, cereal. This time was different though, he smiled the whole time while tears streamed down my face. At that moment I decided that I was leaving within the week, at least. I stayed up every night making a plan to escape.
One night I heard the front door open and slam shut. I could hear laughter, just from Trevor. He was drunk, I could tell.
I yelled, hoping he would hear me, “Hey, Trevor? You want to come down here?.” He opened the door with a big crooked smile. I gave him a playful smile back, and he unlocked the cuffs, forgetting to even close the door. I stood up walking towards him, pushing him up against the wall. I began to unbutton his shirt, he smiled and took his shirt off. I put both of my hands on each side of his face and kissed him. When his back was right up against the wall, I kissed him once more, a deep kiss and slammed the back of his head on the wall.
His unconscious body fell to the floor. I quickly ran out the door, closing it behind me and locking it. I knew he had the key, I planned on him escaping…
“Wait, wait… Why did you want him to escape??” My therapist says, interrupting me.
I look at her and smile, “I want him to wonder, to regret. I want him to feel what I felt.”
“This comes so easily for you to talk about, why?”
“I have told my story at least five times now. Police, Journalists, my parents, and now you. So yeah, it’s become pretty easy to talk about.”
“Well, it looks like our time is up. Will you be coming next week?”
I shrug, “Maybe. Depends, but I didn’t even want to come today, so if that answers your question.”
I watch the therapist stand up and open the door. I follow her out to see my mother, a face full of tears, coming up to hug me. I awkwardly hug my mother back, getting annoyed with everyone worrying about me. I’m better off now, I’m not locked up being raped anymore. I’m safe.
On my way home my mother is talking and I ignore her. She’s asking me if I’m okay, what happened to me, but I just stare out the window. I admire the beautiful scenery, a forest that I must have passed over a thousand times before, but never noticed.