He only wrenches me harder. I’m dragged farther away from the bottom step of my apartment building.
“No!” I scream. “HELP!”
The encounter gets messy from there. As he tries to jostle me around, I try to fight him off. It’s too dark to see much, but I swing my briefcase in the general direction of his face. His features are hidden in the shadows, only his slicked down hair distinct. He dodges my hit and wraps an arm around me, full-on dragging me away. I twist and claw at his grip, hoping to pry him off of me.
I don’t know how to fight. Growing up in a wealthy gated suburb like Westoria, I’ve never needed to.
We disappear struggling into the passageway between my high-rise building and the one next-door. It’s a narrow alley mostly used as storage for dumpsters and recyclables.
I grow even more desperate. My briefcase slips from my grasp. I begin doing whatever I can, throwing kicks and punches in every direction. One of my hits lands—an elbow to the gut. For a brief second, I’m free. I’ve knocked the air out of him and he lets me go.
I spring forward to flee. He’s too quick recovering. I’m slammed against the side of the building so hard, I’m blinded by dizziness. The world feels like it’s shifting around me way too fast. I don’t get a chance to orient myself before I’m knocked down onto the wet pavement. My knee bangs into the gravel and my skin burns as it breaks open.
Everything from my purse to my pepper spray flys out of my grasp and lands in a puddle a few feet away. One of my ballet flats slip off, leaving me half barefoot. The delicate chain of my rose pendant rips from its place around my neck, and scuttles across the ground to join the rest of my fallen things.
Drenched in sweat and shaking, a pained cry bubbles out of me. I’m a flailing fish on dry land.
When I try to lift myself up, he wrenches me back down. The side of my face collides with the gravel on the pavement, sure to bruise. His hands are calloused and invasive. His rough palms scratch my skin as he rolls my pencil skirt over my hips and tears my underwear away. I open my mouth with the metallic taste of blood on my lips.
I cough and spit and attempt to crawl away again. His knee presses into me and holds me down. I’m cemented in place as if by anchor. The pain begins blurring together. One paralyzing throb of terror and hurt.
“Please...” I gasp. “I’ll give you the code to my bank card. You can have all the money in the account. Just don’t...argh!”
“Shut up, bitch.”
I’m held down, my face scraping against wet gravel again. I grind my teeth together as I bear the sharp pain. His heavy, coarse hands slide between my legs. Thick fingers paw and poke at me—he feels me up like I’m a piece of meat he’s selecting at the market.
My eyes squeeze shut at the sound of hawked spit. The fingers return slick and probing. When I’m entered, it’s fast and without an ounce of regard. A feeble whimper escapes me and my body flinches. Any last remnants of air leave my lungs.
His weight presses down on top of me. His minty menthol stench surrounds me and churns my stomach, making me feel even sicker. He grips my hips with one hand, moving inside me. His other he plants on the ground next to mine. It’s the only thing I can concentrate on other than the hot breath blowing on the back of my neck and the painful organ invading my body.
His hands.
His rough, calloused,dirtyhands. His nails chewed and his fingers long. The same ones that fondled me. That he’d spat onto.
He wears a braided silver band around his ring finger with the sapphire crest of the Northam Neptune, the city mascot.
I study it. I focus on it.
Tune out of the moment, grasping at any distraction available.
My thoughts shift to tomorrow. I have a meeting with my star witness in my upcoming case against Frausto. I’m sure Brenda will want to get coffee before work. I’ll have to remember to pick up more cat food at the grocery store. I hope Salt and Pepa have behaved themselves—
I’m stirred back to the present by the crass sound of his zipper being tugged up his pants. I’m flush on my stomach on the pavement, my legs bent at odd angles, pebbles cutting into my kneecaps. His feet appear in front of my line of vision. He bends down to grab my purse, digging out my wallet and taking my ID. The purse he dumps on the ground.
My broken rose necklace isn’t spared. He snatches that up and stuffs it into his pocket.
Then he turns and he walks away, leaving me where I am, like I’m part of the alleyway.
I don’t move for a long time. A strange, surreal numbness settles over me.
Maybe I’m dreaming. I’ll wake up any second in bed.
A pathetic, shaky whimper leaves me when seconds pass, and nothing changes.
This is real. This happened.
At some point, I drag myself off the ground. My balance is unsteady, as if I’m drunk. I roll down my skirt and wobble over to collect my discarded purse and briefcase. Both look so pathetic strewn across the cold, grimy floor like any other piece of garbage on a city street.