“Don’t talk yet.” I told him, and he nodded as I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe.
It’s hard to say if my lack of breath was because I ran for the first time in years, or because I was so out of shape, or because I smoked a pack a day, or because I was too keyed up by the adrenaline. Whatever the reason, I knew I needed silence as I leaned against the wall and fought to catch my breath.
Eventually, I turned from Patrick and entered the bathroom. Closing and locking the door behind me, I stripped off my soiled, bloody pants and underwear, removed my sweater, pulled my hair up in a ponytail and ran the shower. Looking down at my leg, I was surprised to see all the little cuts against my thigh. I was surprised and clueless as to how exactly that happened.
But once in the shower I sat on the tub bottom and just tried to warm myself. I cleaned my body and squirted antibacterial soap on my thigh cuts which burned brutally. I was freezing and shaking, and really, just so tired from all the mental aerobics and physical exertion, I needed to relax and warm myself, so that’s what I did.
However long later, I remember Patrick gently speaking to me from behind the shower curtain.
“Are you ready to get out now? You’ve been in the shower for an hour.”
“Not really. I’m still cold.”
“I can help you get warm. Why don’t you get out now, and I’ll help you get warm. We can just chill out if you want?”
“Okay... Can I have a towel?”
And then the curtain was moved slightly at the end, and a towel was handed to me by a hidden body.
Standing, I took the towel offered to me and dried myself. Covering up, I remember inhaling before opening the shower curtain because I was honestly afraid of Patrick in that moment. I was afraid of him, but not physically. I was almost one hundred percent sure he wouldn't physically hurt me, I really was. It was in that moment I truly feared his reaction to me. I feared the look on his face and I feared the way we were probably going to change. I feared the ending of our friendship.
So opening the curtain, I braced myself, but I shouldn’t have worried. With arms wide open, Patrick had a look on his face that I'll never forget. It was sympathy and love.
Staring at him for mere seconds, I just took in his face. And he loved me, I could see it. In that moment, I saw everything on his face that he felt for me and it was that look of love that was my undoing.
Not waiting for me to embrace him, Patrick pulled me hard and fast into his arms. Grabbing my hair he forced my head to his chest. Gripping my toweled back he forced me tightly into his arms, and I cried.
I'm sure it was another post-adrenaline dump, or maybe exhaustion, or maybe relief, or maybe just life. I don't know, but for whatever reason I stood still in the tub with Patrick’s arms wrapped around me, and I cried.
Eventually, Patrick made some silly comment about me getting snot on his sexy silk shirt and I pulled away with a grin.
Stepping carefully out of the tub, Patrick kept a hand on my elbow as he made me to sit on the toilette seat. Seated, I didn't really know what to say, so I waited for him to take the lead, which he did.
Bending down on the floor, Patrick raised my towel slightly and looked at my thigh. Looking, I still didn't know, so I asked.
“What happened?”
And waiting for an answer, he sat his butt on his heels, looked up and exhaled. “You started stabbing your thigh with your pocket knife while you were on the sidewalk. I didn't know what was happening at first, until I did know, and then I took the knife from you.” And taking my wrist into his hand, Patrick showed me the bruise around my wrist. And it was a dark bruise. A perfectly shaped bruise of a hand wrapped around my bony wrist, with finger marks and even gaps in between. It's funny, but I remember being almost mesmerized by the hand print bruise. It truly was perfect.
“Oh. Why did you bruise me?” I asked gently because I didn't want it to sound like an accusation.
“I'm sorry. I tried to get it away, but you were so still except for your hand hurting your leg and I tried to get it away, but I had to squeeze your wrist hard to make your fingers open. I really did try to get it away, see...” And raising his own hand I see a bunch of nicks and cuts on this fingers and inside his palm.
“Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“I know-”
“No, I really didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. I didn't realize what I was doing.”
“I know. I could tell you were kind of in a trance or something.”
“I didn't mean to hurt you.” And I really didn't. Seeing Patrick’s injuries bothered me very much.
“I know, Sadie. Look at me, pretty girl. It was my fault. I tried to get the knife from you by grabbing at it, instead of your wrist. It was totally my fault. It really was. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. And don't worry, I'm clean, and I assume you are as well. So it's over now.”
“What do you mean...?” And then I understood. “Oh, I AM clean! I never thought of that. Sorry.”
“I am too. I'm kind of the condom Queen in this here town, no matter how much I put out,” Patrick grinned at me. “Plus, I'm tested regularly anyway, and I’m clean. So we're okay, and it's over now. You didn't hurt me, I did because I was stupid, and we're okay. I'm just going to put some band aids on your thigh, okay?”
And nodding, I waited as he nursed my thigh in silence. Reaching out, I placed my hand in his hair and pulled him toward me by his nape. Leaning in between my legs, Patrick wrapped his arms around me and rested his head against my shoulder. Embracing him, I tried to make sense of our terrible night out together.
I couldn't believe I saw my rapist. I couldn't believe he was standing at the end of my street. I couldn't believe he seemed to be watching me. I couldn't believe he was waiting for me. I just couldn't believe I saw him again.
“I saw him...” I whispered.
“I know. Can we call the police now? I really want them to know, Sade. I'm going to call them anyway, but I think you need to tell them, too.”
“It doesn't matter. He's gone now.”
“It DOES matter, and I'm calling them anyway. But I want you to tell them what he was doing and wearing, okay. I mean it, Sadie. I want you to tell them everything that happened. I still have Detective Monroe's card so I’m calling him. But I want you to talk to him as well. I mean it, Sade. If you don't, I'll get all Queen, and bitchy and Drama on you until you do, so you may as well give in.” And pulling away from our hug, Patrick stared at me with a mixture of humor and seriousness until I knew I wouldn't win this battle with him.
“Okay...” And we did.
Patrick took me to my room and pulled out my clothes to wear. He walked into my kitchen and poured us a drink, and made a pot of coffee. Patrick sat me at my dining room table and called Detective Monroe, who amazingly, was actually on duty that night.
And close to two hours after Patrick's call, Detective Monroe was sitting across from Patrick and I, as Patrick told the tale. With little help from me, Patrick filled him in on our night out. Patrick explained that I rarely went out. Patrick explained that me going out was an anomaly, and therefore extra scary and strange that I saw the bad man the one rare night I actually went out. Patrick explained everything he could, until it was my turn to explain.
But I didn't really have a voice. I didn't know what happened. I couldn't explain the panic and fear or the knife or the urine. I couldn't explain the sounds and sights. I didn't have words to express what that moment was like for me- what it had felt like. It was too weird and too messed up in my head to explain.
I didn't really see his features or anything specific. It was more like I saw him as a whole. I thought he had on a dark blue sweater and jeans, but I really only saw him as kind of a blue-ish whole. It's like he was backlit, or glowing, or the only thing illuminated on the street.
But I tried to explain what I saw and how close he was to us, and what happened, I really did. And Detective Monroe said he
understood, and that my description was common and typical of a victim experiencing a vision of their attacker. He said most victims suffer this tunnel-vision type memory of the events. He forgave my inability to accurately describe the man who hurt me thoroughly, as I tried to stop shaking.
Patrick and I didn't tell about my knife, and we didn't mention me urinating myself. Or maybe he did. I don't think so, but I found myself very distracted while Patrick spoke.
I was tired. It was well after midnight. I had had a long night and all I wanted to do was sleep.
And when Detective Monroe and Patrick both looked at me in silence, I realized I hadn't heard the question, because I really didn't know anything at that point, except my exhaustion.
“I asked if you'd like a victim counsellor to call you in the morning, Sadie.”
“Oh, no thank you. I'm okay. I just want to set my alarm and go to sleep. I'll be fine,” I stated automatically.
When he eventually rose from my kitchen chair I remember the relief I felt. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be alone. I wanted my stranger to come to me to make my fear go away.
After Detective Monroe left, it took me another 15 minutes to get Patrick out of my apartment. He was so stubborn and adamant about staying over. He wanted to sleep on the couch. He wanted to stay with me. He wanted to be here if I needed him. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted...
Eventually, almost angrily, I convinced him to leave me alone. I told him it wasn't about what he wanted, but about what I wanted- and I wanted to be alone. So he left, begrudgingly.
And once alone, I rewashed my body and changed into an attractive nightgown, made my way to bed, and then I waited.
I waited all night for my stranger. I waited up. I forced myself to not fall asleep. I stayed up waiting for Him, but He didn't show up that night.
I spent an entire night thinking and waiting until it was morning and I finally fell asleep. And I did sleep until Patrick forced me to get up in the early afternoon.
And that was the last time I ever saw the man who hurt me. I think that was an unconscious decision on my part to protect me. I think I never wanted to see him again, so I didn't. I think my mind simply blanked him out.
Eventually, his face disappeared. And eventually his body disappeared until I never saw him again.
I could never make the sounds go away. And I ALWAYS heard his voice uttering his disgusting words of love and affection for me, but I didn't see him ever again. It's like my mind blanked out his physical appearance from my life. My mind stopped remembering his hair, and eyes, and body. My mind couldn't erase what happened to me or all the gory details, but it could erase his physical memory from my mind.
And so I stopped remembering what he looked like, and I never saw him again.
CHAPTER 9
My Dear Stranger X
Last night my dear stranger came to me again. It had only been a month since His last visit, but as i woke to His beautiful eyes, my longing seemed unbearable.
Suddenly, i remembered our last visit together lacked the physical and emotional commitment which we had built over the years, due to my own resentment and sadness. However, when i looked at His face i knew He had forgiven my previous hostility, just as i had forgiven His absence throughout the brutality i had endured.
Running across my room i greeted my stranger with a hug so tight i could barely breathe. Being held tightly in return, i realized my love had grown stronger than i could've ever imagined.
Kissing my forehead, my stranger came alive with happiness. i could see the pleasure on His face at my forgiveness. And i could see the pleasure my forgiveness gave through the embrace that followed.
We were together again. And though my own recent brutality still threatened, in my dear stranger’s arms, the torture eased while He remained with me.
My dear stranger took my body into His arms and gently carried me to my bed. He lay underneath me, allowing my body to fit neatly into His embrace.
Initially, i felt a slight uneasiness at this intimacy because of the recent savagery i had endured. However, just as quickly as it came, my uneasiness faded into the night because i was with my dear stranger and nothing could have made me feel more peaceful or secure.
My stranger held me, caressing my face and hair, so soothing and calm. He made my body feel light as i fought my mind for sleep. Inevitably, my body won the battle and sleep claimed me.
But the nightmares struck and the brutality tortured. i was alive but unable to stop the pain. Crying and screaming i tried to fight it but i couldn't. i was powerless against him. Again.
Suddenly, i found myself awake fighting my dear stranger for seconds until i realized the pain had all been another nightmare memory to torture. My newest brutality had been dreamed memories, but this time He was there for me.
He was there!
i was safe and alone no longer. He would alleviate my pain and wipe away all my tears. He would make the pain distant, at least until He left me again.
And i just couldn't help myself. i couldn't contain my desperation.
‘‘Please don't leave me again. i’m begging you! Please don't leave me this time because i can't cope with all of this alone!’ i screamed these words surprising us both. And with no reply, He took me back into His arms for another tight embrace.
And we lay together for hours while all the horrific felt afar. No words were spoken though i knew one day soon i would tell my dear stranger all that had occurred. i would tell Him all that had happened to me. i would tell Him how hard i fought. i would tell Him how i had screamed for Him to take me away from the pain. One day i would show Him my scars just as i showed Him my tears. But not last night. Last night was left only for security and devotion.
As the hours passed and daylight approached, again my eyes begged for sleep. Again, i tried desperately to fight it but sleep had become such a luxury in the past months my body couldn't resist the newly found security it felt within my stranger’s presence. And as my eyes grew heavy, and my stranger kissed my eyelids so softly, i was no longer able to fight. Quietly, i fell into unconsciousness holding my dear stranger tight.
When i woke this morning i was astonished to find my stranger still awake next to me. He had stayed for me. He had stayed all night. He had heard my pleas, and he had stayed just for me!
For the first time since the attack He was here when i awoke. For the first time i could kiss His sweet lips good morning. For the first time there was no morning sadness nor sunrise loneliness. For the first time i could breathe after sleep because He was here for me completely.
As i turned to kiss my stranger's lips i saw His eyes of pain, and i instantly wondered what i had screamed in my sleep. i wondered what secrets of brutality i had told.
But before i could panic at my unintentional confessions my stranger kissed my lips and smiled a smile so beautiful for me, my anxiety rested. All my questions didn't matter because He was still here and He had stayed for me.
Sadly, my stranger stood and bent to kiss my forehead. He walked slowly to my bedroom door. But wanting to scream 'Don't leave me!' i didn't speak. i remained silent as tears fell down my cheeks and my heart cried. He was leaving me. And even though i believed He would return to me again, my sadness was overwhelming.
i watched His body walk from my room and down the hall. i watched my dear stranger turn and blow one final kiss. i watched... until I couldn’t see His body anymore.
Desperate and motionless, my mind raced and my body ached. i couldn't control my stream of tears from falling. i couldn't control my thoughts of finality and panic from surfacing.
What if He left me forever? What if He never returned to me? How could i live without the love shared with my dear stranger? How could i continue...?
Minutes after His departure i let the fear and desperation take me as I fell asleep once again. i knew what horrors were about to abuse me, and i knew the pain that was about to destroy me, but i simply didn't have the strength t
o fight any longer.
i allowed the exhaustion to take me. And just as I fell into the darkness, I suddenly exhaled as i realized He would return to me and He would return for us.
November 1999
19 years old
My Dear Stranger XI
Last night my dear stranger came to me.
i had awoke from a light, haunted sleep to find His beautiful eyes watching my body in agony, as He too looked agonized. My heart broke when i saw His horrified face, but my love grew even greater when i watched His horror turn into a beautiful smile for me. In that one moment i wanted to be held so tightly, i could barely contain my excitement. God, my stranger is so amazing, and He loves me wholly!
Once i was fully awake and no longer suffering my nightmares, my stranger slowly walked across my room as He greeted my longing with a warm embrace. In His arms i was filled with happiness, as tears fell down my cheeks when He kissed my lips and breathed deep into my body.
Again, we were together. Again, i wanted only my stranger to take me away from all my pain. Again, i wanted His sweet lips to caress my sorrow away. And again, i was comforted by His love so great and so amazingly rare, i often lost my breath when He was near.
While embracing, i pressed my lips so firmly against my stranger's that from His lips escaped a little moan. Slightly pleased by my own aggression i smiled and held Him even tighter. Grabbing His body, i squeezed and groped until finally He broke our embrace seemingly confused and frustrated by my sexual aggression.
And staring into my stranger's eyes i questioned His actions, but there was no reply.