In high school, I had stayed the night with a friend, whose parents were out of town. She was really excited about this guy she had met the previous weekend, who she also invited over. This guy was way older than we were. He looked like he was in his thirties and was super sketchy. When he got to her house, he insisted he needed to use the bathroom, to which he asked for a different bathroom, because the one in the hallway smelled bad.
I had a terrible feeling, but my friend was in awe of this older guy and frankly stupid. She let him use her parent’s bathroom, where he took forever and immediately had to leave after. Upon her parents returning, much to their incredible surprise and concern, their wedding rings were missing from the bathroom! The only persons they were aware of being over was me… My friend refused to tell them the truth, therefore let them believe it was me.
Out of absolute frustration as well as my deep desire for justice I helped my friend devise a plan to meet up with this guy in a public place to confront him and maybe get some more information from him. We were able to get him to agree to meet us at the Dairy Queen, near our high school and we would potentially call the police if things got bad. The problem was my friend never showed up, yet I was there in the parking lot, with this guy.
He told me to get in his car and we could drive over to where my friend was. Myself being a very stupid 16-year-old, with no common sense, agreed to get in his car. As soon as I got in and buckled my seat belt, he locked the doors and sped down a street in the opposite direction of the school. He barely said anything to me.
I started panicking, trying to figure out my options, which were slowly dwindling. We were driving for what seemed like forever when he finally pulled off the freeway, into a part of town I had never been and did not recognize. I insisted he let me out of the car, to which he ignored. When we arrived to his apartment, he told me I could come upstairs and call my friend, to let her know I was okay. Trying to decide if this was a good idea or not, I agreed, not knowing or even thinking of what this guy had planned. As we were headed upstairs, he grabbed my arm and started pulling me faster and shoved me through a door.
As soon as we got into the apartment he forced himself on me, kissing me, grabbing me and pulling my clothes off. I was fighting him, but not winning. He was approximately 6’4” and at least 240 lbs. Tears were streaming down my face and my head was going blank. As he shoved his hand down my pants, my pager started going off, over and over. I realized this might be my one way to get him to stop. I told him that was my friend and if I did not call her she would for sure be calling the police very soon if she had not already.
He paused for a moment, stepped back and told me, “okay, but you only tell her you are safe and will be back later.” I agreed, only thinking of my way out. As I dialed her number, my fingers were shaking and my stomach was nauseous. She answered frantically, I quickly started spouting off, “I am 45 minutes east, near Columbia Ave, in what I believe is North Portland, we are in an apartment building called…” He grabbed the phone and slammed it down and continued attacking me, but now with anger, hitting me and telling me wasn’t what we agreed.
I shouted at him that she knows I am with you, now she knows our approximate location and she also knows your name, your car and a few other details. I then asked him how long do you think you have until the police arrive? He stopped, again. He then told me to get outside and he would take me back to the school. I was so afraid to get back in the car, but he kept grabbing me to ensure I could not go anywhere else. This time on our way out I gathered as many details around me to be able to report if given another chance.
Not far from the school he unlocked the doors, pulled over to the side and told me to get out. He told me if I reported him he would do far worse the next time he saw me. I scrambled from his car, sobbing with relief and the setting in of just how close I was to my life potentially ending. I am convinced my angels were watching over me in a big way that day.
Even after all of this, my friend refused to let me call the police, as her parents would find out she invited him over. Because of my childhood, the traumas, the lack of protection, the insecurities, and feeling of guilt I honored her. I never reported that man, he was never held accountable for theft, kidnapping, sexual assault and battery of a minor and I had to continue to be thought of as a thief by her parents.
Just because we do not tell our story until we are much older, does not mean it is any less impactful in our life or it did not happen. In fact, we never told our stories, most often because we did not feel empowered, capable or even ready. We need to be willing to listen and talk about these deep wounds we all carry in one way.