Nothing would ever be the same again.
It happened on a random Friday night, in late May, a few years ago now.
Tired from a long week of work, I chose to stay home & chill that night – a little tv & early to bed. I said goodnight to my boyfriend as he went out to meet some friends for drinks. After some tv, tidying & a couple of games of crib online, I decided to call it a night. By 10:15 I was tucked into bed – I think it took me all of 10 minutes to enter dreamland.
Four hours & 13 minutes later, I found myself in the middle of my worst nightmare. Sheer terror like I had never experienced before, & hope I never have to again.
Something woke me up.
I had no idea what at the time. I remember opening my eyes, & the first thing I saw was my clock:
It was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing.
‘I have to get up,’ I thought ..
Something was weird ..
I tried to get up, but realized I couldn’t …
Wait a minute, what the …
DREAD WASHED OVER ME ..
“Holy Fuck there’s a man on top of me in my bed!”
In a fraction of a second I tried n realized I couldn’t move my legs, tried n realized I couldn’t move my arms. I was pinned down to my bed, helpless, defenseless. My mind, racing at warp speed to try & make sense of my predicament. He was straddling me, sitting on my pelvis, thighs, legs; couldn’t use ’em. He had my hands/arms pinned under his knees, couldn’t use those either. Panic set in as I wondered frantically, “How the fuck am I supposed to defend myself? How the fuck am I gonna defend myself??”
His right hand was covering my mouth. He must have placed it there as he was getting on top of me while I slept, in case I woke up. What a horrible thought. When I woke up, he kept whispering ‘Don’t scream, don’t scream,’ over & over again in French. He was a couple of inches from my face. His left hand was already on my pyjama top buttons as he tried frantically to unbutton them. I was terrified – a terror like I never knew was possible. I thought I would never get out from under him. I couldn’t kick him, scratch him or punch him. Holy fuck, I don’t wanna die ..
My mind shifts into super-high gear – I was going to have to fight for my life here & it could very well get ugly. I could not make sense .. I simply could not comprehend. Who the fuck is this guy? What the hell is happening??!! Did he have a gun? A knife? Would he torture me? Kill me fast? All I knew was I was going to fight for my life. No fuckin’ sneaky son of a bitch was gonna do that to me & get away with it.
“Lying there & taking it” was NEVER an option.
The only think I could think of: ‘I hope my murder is loud enough to wake my neighbors before I actually die.’
I was out of options. When you’re in that situation, you’ll do anything to survive. The fight for your life is intense. Then, out of I don’t know where, the idea that wound up saving my life appeared. Just like that. ‘Ok, No legs, No arms.’ It was like a basic survival checklist; but I had my teeth. Omg thank you 💖 ‘My teeth,’ I thought, as I bit that mother-fucker’s hand so hard.
It must have hurt like a son of a bitch – he yanked it right out of my mouth. He then punched me twice, hard. Felt like it was in slow motion. The scream I let at out at this point – realizing I was no longer muffled – was a blood-curdling, primal scream. It was heard by people who lived down the entire block & the next one over, I later found out.
We rolled off the bed, me screaming, waving my arms, flailing desperately. I think I was trying to hit him, trying to attack him, & he was trying to get away from me. That thought gives me a bit of relief. He was actually trying to get away from me. I chased him to the right, down the hall, to the kitchen, & back door. Looking back, that’s weird cuz my front door was about 2 feet to the left. Instead we ran together for maybe 15 feet. I realized after, that’s the way he came in, so under duress, he went the only way he knew. He was running away from me. Good. I chased him to the back door, as my mind saw & tried to register that my back door was open, & the door’s window, & the window’s screen was on the ground.
During that kind of trauma, your mind cannot comprehend what is happening. It all happens so fast, a split second. So trying to process all that fear, violence, & fear of more violence, & knowing this could very well be it. I was still trying to comprehend how the hell there was a man on top of me in my bed when I woke up, that trying to register: ‘That’s how he broke in,’ just was not computing. I still couldn’t believe that it was happening. I still can’t believe it did.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep for a year.
I saw a shrink, took self-defense classes, & got an ADT alarm system in my apartment. And I’ve still never felt safe since.
They say time heals all wounds. It’s been years. I’ve moved 3 times since. But it doesn’t seem to want to go away.