There's a serial rapist in our neighborhood. Sometimes I find myself fantasizing that I'm the one that catches the bastard, well, let's be honest, I don't want to catch him, I want to kill him. I guess he has been roaming in and out of the area, sneaking into women's homes late at night and attacking them, for the past 2 years. How does that work? What keeps an attacker like that in one place for so long? How, after after all this time, has he been able to continually get away with it? I have to keep the chains on all the doors when I'm home alone now and I can no longer cut through our alley to get to the apartment. I hate all the limitations I face as a woman, the dangers that threaten my everyday life, and the fear that I'm always experiencing when dusk hits and Hunter isn't there with me. It's so frustrating. I know there are self-defense classes and pepper spray is a definite must in regards to utilizing the best forms of safety methods, but, still, the extent we need to go to in order to avoid victimization in this world is overwhelming.
I've never been raped before. I am one of the lucky ones. I've had some unsettling experiences, one having occurred in a bar parking lot by a co-worker, but I was able to get out of the situation safely. His name was Warthog and he wouldn't let me leave, he yelled, tried to block my way, complimented, threatened and than, eventually, he came from behind me, threw his arms around me and pulled me into him so I wouldn't be able to get into my car. Crying, I kept begging him to let me go and once I realized he didn't intend to, I reminded him that there were cops across the street and that I was going to scream. That's when he let go and told me I was crazy and should be locked up. That seems to be the direction a guilty man always goes-we're the crazy ones. It's the Sexual Predators National Anthem, cry insanity from across the rooftops and even the most confident woman will be faced with self-doubt.
Anyways, it could have been avoided, but I was so afraid of what everyone else thought of me I landed myself in a one on one situation in a sleazy, gravel parking lot with Warthog. I invited drama, I guess I still do, to some extent. Not to say I'm proud of it, but there really is nothing like a lump on your breast or an alleged neighborhood attacker to get the heart pumping. I've already decided to keep a knife under the mattress and in the shower, just in case. And in regards to the lump on my breast, well, who needs an ultrasound when I have symptoms.webmd.com? I'm ready to start writing my autobiography, covering my cancer days and how I killed the serial rapist well I was washing my hair. I have a few ideas for the title: Fighting Cancer and Being a Hero in Today's World or Battling Villains and Overcoming Cancer, A Story Based On Semi-Factual Events. Oprah will eat it up.
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