Rescued

I can still feel the grip on my wrists. My arms above my head. Each of his hands like a claw, tight around my wrist. It’s dark, I can scarcely see. My mind is going a million places. Why did I come here? What is wrong with you? How do you leave? Where are the exits? Then my thoughts are interrupted. An interruption that is still played out in my mind. I can hear the gruff timbre to his voice. I hear the words I will replay a 1,000 times in my mind.

You realize I can do whatever I want to you and there’s nothing you could do to stop me.

And he was right. I couldn’t stop him and I knew it. That was almost the worst part. Knowing he was right. Knowing what was to happen. To this day, I still can’t recall the particulars of what came next. Some days I am ok with that. Others, it bothers me to no end. It makes me feel like I made it up. But I know I didn’t. It is amazing what the mind can do when it is trying to protect you.

As he lay asleep I remember trying to recall where my clothes were. Thinking about if I should leave. How do I leave? I had no car. I did have my cell phone, but this was before smartphones. I didn’t have any way of looking up a cab company. Then he suddenly bolted awake and left his apartment. No shoes, no clothes, nothing. Yes, strange I know. But I knew it was my chance. So I jumped out of his bed and started putting my clothes on. No sooner had I put my pants on and he was back. Angrily asking why they were on and instantly pulling them off again. He stood behind me rubbing his hands and his manhood up and down my backside. This time, that’s where it stopped. He flopped into bed pulling me down with him. Stuck in the bed with him once more. When morning came he acted as if nothing happened. So I did too. He had no recollection of leaving his apartment in the middle of the night. He actually kept asking if I was serious. I don’t remember getting into his car, or the drive home, or getting out. Obviously, they all happened. I’m here now. 

I still go back to that night sometimes. Replaying the events in my head. Always a different ending, different choices, different paths. I could have screamed. I could have fought. I could have run out and called any number in my phone until someone picked up. I often think about calling a co-worker who didn’t live far. I could have called him. He could have come. Could have saved me. Maybe that’s what it is, a want or a need to be rescued. Then I come back to reality. I can’t live in a fantasy of the past. All I can do is plan for the future. If I am ever in that position again maybe next time I won’t hesitate.

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