Today I came to the realization that I am not a normal woman. But in a world where normal can be highly subjective, I think I'm okay. See people have their own personal demons, drugs, alcohol, porn. My demon is rape, pure and not so simple. Most people believe that rape is about sex and that's where the misconception lies. Rape is about control period, nothing more, nothing less. The sex is irrelevant. You may ask yourself how an attractive and educated woman would allow herself to be brutalized and degraded in such a horrid fashion. Simply put, I can't help myself nor can I explain how being humiliated, abused and dragged through the depths of hell actually benefits me more than years of intensive therapy. It's like, I desire, no I need to be abused, to feel as if I'm unloved. The humiliation only serves to intensify the need, the craving to feel like I am nothing and to my rapist, I am exactly that. Nothing. Just a warm body to sate his need to wield his raging control. I don't expect you to understand, or even sympathize because I have trouble understanding this addiction.
Instead of me trying to explain to you, I'll share an experience with you. Come take a trek through the darkness of my mind.
It's thundering outside, the rain zigzags down my windowpane. Rocking back and forth in my wicker chair, I tap my telephone on my thigh, fighting this addiction.
"I will not call. I will not call." I whisper out loud, trying to convince myself that I won't give in. Apparently, the addiction prevails yet again and I make the call. This is the beauty of this arrangement, I never know who the person will be and only have a vague idea as to the when and where.
The phone only rings one time before a somewhat familiar voice picks up.
"Yes?" His abrupt tone adds a brutish edge to his already baritone voice.
"I-I", my voice falters, I mean it's hard calling to have someone violate you.
"Five seconds to state your purpose." His tone eliminates any hesitation I may have been feeling.
"I need to make an appointment." The words rush out of my mouth taking with them any moisture I may have had.
"Number." I quickly repeat my identification code. This service uses no names and payment is made via p.o. box.
"I will call back in five minutes with confirmation." CLICK.
These are always the longest five minutes in my lifetime, that's when doubts rear their ugly heads, making me question my addiction. The sound the phone ringing startles me, causing a cold beads of sweat to roll down my spine.
"H-hello?"
"Appointment confirmed."
"Time and destination please."
"Within this week. The Noble Hotel. The room has been reserved and the charges will be added to you bill. You may check in as early as tonight." CLICK.
My hands tremble as I hang up the phone. Blindly I begin to pack, the anticipation bubbling deep inside of me.
One thing I look forward to is trying pick out who my rapist will be. I never know who my violator will be. I remember once, I was returning home and there was this young, red-head boy sitting on my steps. He couldn't have been more than eighteen at the most, so naturally I dismissed him. That is until I went to unlock the door and was shoved in by this red-headed manchild. Granted he was young, but he was hung like a mule and left be bruised and sore for weeks. And I loved every painful moment!
Once I checked into my hotel room, I decided to visit the bar for a quick drink.
"Is the stool taken?"
"Only if you sit down." His voice was pleasant, smooth almost. Almost as smooth as the fine Italian suit he adorned his slightly muscular body. Smiling, I slid on the stool and ordered a rum and coke.
I gazed over at my new drinking companion, trying to pick up on his vibe. Definitely not my violator.
"So are you from around here?"
"Excuse me?" I asked, sipping on my drink.
"Oh, forgive the intrusion, I just wanted to know if you were from around here because I'm not and I was curious about the local attractions."
"Oh, no problem." Absently I mentioned a few hot spots for him to check out, trying not to be too obvious in my attempts to get rid of him. It wouldn't do to be grabbed in the bar in front of this gentleman. He seems like the knight-in-shining-armour type, just waiting to rescue the dasmel in distress. He continued to drone on and on about his vaction, his life, etc. never picking up on my now obvious hints. I started tapping my hard plastic room key on the counter.
"Well I hope you enjoy our fair city. I myself am going to rest. Have a good night." I said abruptly, marching out of the bar.
I stripped off my cotton sundress and wrapped my braids up in a bun. Turning the shower, I let the warm water wash over my smooth brown sugar skin, my fingers idly trace over the cresent shaped scar above my left nipple. A nice reminder from an overzealous rapist. Goosebumps cover my body as I relieve that horrible night, involuntary shudders causes my body to blissfully tremble at the mere thought of what happened that night. I was so lost in my thoughts as I floated back into the room, slipping on my cotton nightshirt before crawling between the sheets. The instant my head hits the pillow, my heavy lids close, allowing me to slip into darkness.
"Wake up, bitch!" Rough hands yank the covers off of me, a bright flashlight blinds my still focusing eyes.
"Yeh bitch, you like flirting with muthafuckas and then leavin them, right bitch?" I couldn't think straight as I was hauled out of the bed and smashed against the wall. My slow response or lack thereof must have further infuriated my attacker. I vaguely saw his huge fist hurling at my face. I braced myself for the blow that surely was going to do some damage. However, he pulled his punch short and instead of possibly breaking my jaw, he slapped my face, making my head snap back.
"Answer me when I speak to you, understand?!" He shook my body so hard that my teeth began to rattle in my head.
"Y-yes..I-I understand." I felt something wet against the corner of my lip. The tip of my tongue confirmed my suspicions that the wetness was in fact blood. I could feel his hands roaming underneath my nightshirt and something snapped inside of me when I felt his fingers brush across the scar on my breast.
"Get off of me!" I screamed, my arms and legs swinging wildly.
