Author: S. Clermont

This was one of the worst nights I’ve experienced in a long time.  I’m still trembling because of what happened. I’ve never been this
scared in years.  I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t know what happened really. I don’t know how to talk about it.  I wouldn’t
even know where to being the story… So I guess I’ll start at the very beginning.  
I was going over to a friends place so I could be something besides depressed and antisocial.  He told me to bring whatever I wanted to
drink and I was going to bring something, but I decided at the last moment that I didn’t want to carry anything unnecessary in the cold
so I just grabbed my keys and my phone and I put on my scarf and jacket and left.  As I was walking past the dumpster someone
grabbed me from behind and pulled my scarf over my face so I couldn’t see anything. I’m assuming it was a guy because of his
strength and build – it just didn’t feel like a girl.  He dragged me kicking the whole time to a car and pulled me into the back seat with
him and told a person who was driving to go.  The back door closed pushing my legs up into my body and my body up on top of the
guy who carried me into the car.
It smelled horrible in the car; like hard alcohol and smelly feet.  I felt like I had to throw up and I didn’t know if it was because of the
smell or because I was so scared.  The guy in the back seat was holding both my arms down with one of his hands and I was trying so
hard to get out of his grasp, but I just couldn’t.  I don’t know if I have ever felt so weak in my entire life.  I was kicking the door as
hard as I could hoping that it would pop open and I could get out.  
We kept making right turns. I could tell by the way I moved within the car.  It felt like we were just going in circles.  And the whole
time I kicked the door over and over again trying to break it open.  I kept hoping maybe I’d hit the window hard enough that it would
break and maybe that would scare them enough to stop the car and let go of me so I could get out.  I kept moving my hands and arms
hoping that I could get a hand free.  I wanted to grab anything I could – something to use as a weapon or just use my hands as
weapons.  I thought maybe I could move my arms around my face enough to move the scarf out of my eyes and then maybe I would
be able to see something.  But I couldn’t. He was holding my hands and arms down with such force I could hardly move them at all.
Then I felt the hand that was not holding my body down brush against my forehead down to my cheek, like in that sweet gesture-like-
way. Then it found my jacket zipper and unzipped it. The hand lifted my shirt up past my belly button exposing my skin and brushed
away anything that was covering my mid-section.  It grabbed my right breast over my bra and gave it a squeeze. I wanted to cut that
hand off.  Then it glided its finger tips down my rib cage and my hip bone, then over my lower abdomen to my jeans.  It unbuttoned
my jeans and pulled down the zipper. I was screaming and crying. “Don’t touch me! Stop it! Please stop! NO! STOP!” but it didn’t
work.  I started kicking my feet even more, wiggling my body back and forth, and trying anything that would make that hand stop. I
tried kicking the driver but I couldn’t tell where he was because I still couldn’t see anything.  Then as the hand touched my underwear
the owner of it said almost in a whisper, “If you make this harder for me I will make it worse for you.” I started kicking and screaming
harder and louder but calmed down a little out of pure fear.  I was sobbing and trembling as the hand removed itself from my
underwear.
The car was stopped.  I didn’t know where I was.  I wasn’t sure if we were stopped at a stop sign or if we were outside someone’s
house or what.  The guy in the back seat grabbed me under both armpits while still holding my wrists and pulled me out of the car.  I
made my entire body dead weight because that’s what someone told me to do if I were ever in a situation like this one – I guess it
would make it harder for the person to carry me if I were dead weight as opposed to if I were kicking and screaming.
The next few seconds were like a blur to me.  I don’t even know how it happened, but I got out of the guy’s grasp. I think he was
surprised that I made myself dead weight and he wasn’t ready for it.  He tried to make me stand by yanking my arms.  He told me to
stand up on my own or else I’d be sorry.  So I did.  I think he was trying to adjust his grip on my hands or something, I don’t really
know, but I just started swiveling my body back and forth to get out of his grip.  It worked and as soon as I couldn’t feel his hands on
me anymore I started running.  I still had the scarf over my face so I had no idea where I was running, but it didn’t occur to me to
take it off until after I had gotten a few seconds out of his grasp.  
When I pulled the scarf down I couldn’t really see anything because my brain was just concerned with getting away.  It was too dark to
notice specifics but I did know I was on a dirt ground, not pavement or anything like that. And there were trees around me. It was dark
– there were no street lamps or buildings.  I was too scared to look back in case they were chasing me or getting in the car to get me
back.  I could hear laughter. I didn’t know if it was the people from the car or if it was coming from somewhere else.  I just kept
running as fast as I possibly could and before I knew it, I recognized where I was.  I saw D&M and the rotary.  I don’t even know
what direction I came from though, because I was running so fast and so hard that I feel like I lost my mind completely in those few
seconds, or minutes.  
I am so scared of the what-ifs. What if they followed me.  They know what I look like but I didn’t see any of them. How do I know
that they didn’t follow me, or that they won’t do it again?  I’m pretty sure they know where I live because they saw me come out of my
apartment.  What if they are waiting for me back at my apartment? Or what if they come back to get me later?

“Well, you’re safe here, right now,” said one of the University police officers as I sat in a cold room staring at a dark brown stain on
the floor.  “We’ll have someone bring you to your apartment and make sure it’s safe before we leave you on your own. Do you have a
roommate or someone who will be around to make sure you will be okay for the night?”
“I have a roommate,” I said thoroughly knowing she wouldn’t be there that night.
A second officer spoke now.  “I know you said you couldn’t see anything because they had your… scarf?...  pulled over your head. But
did you get any details at all? The license plate? Or what they were wearing? How many of them were there?”
“I couldn’t see anything. It was dark and my eyes were covered.” I realized I was crying and my nose was running a little. “There were
at least two people, one guy holding me in the back seat and one driving. I don’t know if the person driving was a guy or a girl though.
And I don’t know if there was anyone else in the car. I don’t think anyone talked. Or if they did I couldn’t hear them because I was
screaming so loudly.”
“You didn’t see the color of the car?” asked the other officer.
“I didn’t look back. I was too scared. And I didn’t notice it when I was leaving my apartment. I don’t know why. It was right there…” I
said as tears flowed steadily down my face.
“So you’re telling us that someone assaulted you tonight but you don’t know who it was, what they looked like, what they were wearing,
the make, model, or color of the car they were driving, or anything along those lines?  You have nothing for us to use to catch these
guys?”
“I’m s-sorry. I d-d-didn’t think I w-would n-need to….” The sobs covered up the rest of whatever it was I attempted to say.  I’m not
even sure what it was. I felt like an absolute idiot for not being able to “help” in any way.  I thought police officers were supposed to
help the situation; they only made me feel worse about it.  “I just want to go to bed,” I whispered after I had composed myself a little.
“Alright. I’ll have someone drive you to your apartment. What number did you say it was again?” asked one of the officers.
I was trembling and struck with fear. I didn’t want to get back into another car with a person I didn’t know after I had just escaped
one. I knew it was a police officer, a keeper of the peace that would be bringing me home, but that didn’t mean anything to me since I
was still petrified to the bone.  
I think the officer saw the fear in my face because she asked, “Would you rather not get into a car with a stranger?”  I shook my head
slowly as the tears still streamed down my cheeks.  “It’s ok.  I’ll have one of the student officers walk you back to your apartment.  Will
that be ok?”
I anxiously nodded my head, scared because I knew a lot of student officers.  However, when I saw him he looked unfamiliar which
was oddly a relief. I didn’t think the sight of a stranger would be so welcoming.  I’m not sure why, but I just didn’t want to have
someone I knew dealing with me as a “responsibility.”
So the student officer walked me to my apartment, all of which was a complete blur.  I’m not sure if we walked in silence or if we
talked – I actually haven’t the slightest idea. But I made it back to my apartment where I shut off all the lights and took a very hot
shower.
A Horrible Night