I was almost raped once. I was living alone in Baton Rouge, going to L.S.U. I was twenty-one, so it was in 1973.
It was summer, and I had the windows open, I had closed the doors, but not much earlier. I was lying in bed, my face turned towards the wall, reading, wearing nothing but a blouse. I felt something jostle on the bed, assumed it was one of the cats, and then I felt a hand over my mouth, and saw a knife in front of my face, and heard a voice say, "Don't make a move, or I'll kill you."
Well, of course, I immediately jumped up out of bed, and started screaming at the top of my lungs. My would-be rapist came at me with the knife, and cut my neck a little, but I grabbed the blade of the knife (a butcher's knife, one of my own, as it turned out) with my naked hand, and twisted out of my assailant's hand, and turned it around and went after him, still screaming bloody blue murder.
Whereupon, he turned and ran, slamming the bedroom door behind him. I ripped the door from its hinges, I swear to God, and ran after him. He ran out of the apartment, and I ran out, too, where I was stopped by my next-door neighbor, who was waving a sword. Everyone for blocks was converging on the place, and I realized I was just wearing a blouse, and went back inside.
They could hear me screaming two blocks away inside the Baskin-Robbins.
The police got there, and waited for me to get dressed to fill out a report, and look at photographs. One of the policemen was a guy who had a crush on me in the sixth grade. He walked around, looking at my bookcases, at the feminist literature, and murmured about not being surprised.
A few days later, I saw the guy again, in TG&Y, and they held him until the cops got there. I picked him out of a line-up at the station. I never had to go to trial, he plead guilty to a lesser offense.
In the meantime, I had a nervous breakdown. I couldn't sleep at night for several years. I got another apartment in another part of town, and started working nights, and sleeping days. I would obsessively check the locks of the doors and windows. I was like that for many years.
Now, it's just a good story.
I swear to God that every word I said is true. It's such a good story, that you may not believe it, but my family will vouch for me. |
