I wear a bright smile on my face as I step off the bus. As a 19 year old woman, I help the environment by taking the city buses to my university instead of driving. It may take longer, but in the end, I save money and it's better for the environment. My next bus stop is only a block away, so I begin walking. I'm on the outskirts of downtown, in a rundown area that most people view as shabby chic but my parents view as the ghetto. I like it as there's an interesting mix of people walking and rushing about.
Unexpectedly, a huge shadow begins to fall cover me. Confused, I look up to see where the cloud that's blocking the sun. Only...it's no cloud. A man...a huge man that towers over me as if I was a dwarf stands in front of me. Granted, I'm 5 foot, but this man is huge. Not muscular but huge. Just Jason Voorhees type huge...not to mention dark. Not in skin tone, but in everything. It's almost like he sucks in the sunlight.
"I have a knife in my pocket," he tells me in a very smooth, calm voice as if he was asking me about the weather.
"If you yell or get anyone's attention, I'll put my knife into your heart, then walk away," he informs me with such eerie calmness I know he's telling the truth. This sends a cold shiver up my spine reminding me of the time I had to get stitches and they gave me that numbing shot.
"Your bag, please," he requests and I slowly slide my heavy backpack off my back and hold it out for him with both hands. He grabs it with one hand and shows no notice of how heavy the bag is with all my books.
"Cell and wallet," he requests now. On the sidewalk, with crowds of people walking by, I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone and then my wallet. Shaking out of fear, I hold both out for him, letting him rob me in broad daylight.
He takes both smoothly and puts them in his pocket. The way he is so calm unnerves me. In fact, it terrifies me. He shows no nerves as he robs in the middle of a packed street. He is like some villain in a movie that doesn't think they are doing any evil.
The man then looks down at me with an odd look that I try to read but have trouble. There's surprise on his face, but also something else that I can't read. It sort of looks like unbelief, but that can't be real.
"You are doing very well scared coward girl. Now, you are going to put your hands behind your head, turn and walk down the alley," he says so causally anyone watching this farce might think we are friends. Open mouth and gaping, I just stand there as my emotions scream in fear and terror. I feel the color drain from my face as I stand there stunned.
The alley? No! It can't be. I can't do this. Who knows what he is going to do to me?! He might even...kill me. But if I do not...he might do what he promised to do.
Feeling as if in a daze, my hands lift up from my sides. They slowly and smoothly slide behind my head, where my fingers interlock together. I feel so stupid doing this. And I know I look stupid as everyone sees me putting my hands behind my head on an open street sidewalk. I now turn and face the alley. I start walking, slowly. People rush by me, some waiting for me to pass while others speed up. None stop to look at me or to even wonder why I'm walking with my hands behind my head.
It occurs to me how smart the man is. He's made me look like so many of the crazy people that I walk by every day. He's just made me one of the oddities that people will want to avoid instead of a victim needing help. Making me do this ensures everyone will go out of their way to ignore me.
With tears starting to run down my face, I enter the shadowy alley. My heart is pounding as terror builds in a way I've never felt before. Yet I can't deny that there's some other feeling deep inside. I can't put my finger on what it was, but I think I know what it's from. I've never had a man be so, well, demanding and confident. Every guy I know, from my ex-boyfriends to the guys that try to talk to me at school, they are not like this guy at all. They seem insecure or scared to offend me. This brute acts as if that's his only goal.
"Stop. Turn around," I hear the brute order. Hearing his voice makes me jump as I didn't know he was right behind me. He didn't make a single sound. He could have been behind me the entire time and I didn't sense him. This makes my legs tremble as I wouldn't even hear it if he decided to end me. It would come so unexpectedly.
"Please mister," I begin as I slowly turn around.
"I gave you everything I have," I plead, trying to convince him not to hurt me.
"No, you haven't," he returns with a hint of something sinister in his voice. He is in front of me, blocking my exit out of the alley. In the short distance, I see people walking past the dirty alley we are in.
"Do not move," he states as a clear order. I see his huge hands move up towards my face and I start to whimper in panic. But they stop before reaching it. Then I see why, or rather, I feel why. With ease he rips open my shirt. With a single tug with both hands, he tore it down the middle and made it unwearable. Now my shirt is just two tatters as my bra is clearly visible. The speed and method of this is just so quick and smooth that I'm amazed. I barely even felt it.
As if it is made out of paper, he yanks open my jeans breaking the button holding them closed. Again the strength he must have to break this apart is unbelievable. I have trouble at time trying to close the button and he just poof! Snapped if off in a single pull of his massive hands.
Still standing with my hands behind my head, I feel him pulling my jeans all the way down. I feel the cool day air run over my bare legs as I stand here in this alley in just my bra and panties. I can't find any words to say as I'm filled with so many emotions. Terror and fear are the strongest as its clear to see what's about to happen. But there's a burning sort of feeling as well, as if I'm enjoying it. As if I want it. As if this is so dangerous that it's a thrill. It's this feeling that overwhelms me as he removes my tattered shirt and jeans completely off me.
I watch as he turns his back to me and takes several steps away. I consider running and escaping, but my legs don't seem to want to run. They feel rooted to the spot no matter how hard I scream at them in my head. They don't move because I fear there's a part of me that doesn't want to move. That I want to experience what is about to happen for some sick and deranged reason.
So all I can do is watch him as he walks. Then he stops...and throws my clothes over the fence. My eyes watch as my float downward on the other side of the fence until they can no longer be seen, ensuring there's no way I will be able to get to them.
As quick as a cat, he is in front of me again. His hands come up again, but this time they grab the front of my bra. With minimal effort, he snaps it apart. This bra which can take me seconds to take off some days, comes apart like it wasn't even snapped on. Now broken, he just lets it fall off me where it looks cheap and pathetic.
