The Night Traveler

So this is my story, I\'ll try to be brief,
Of how life once contested my basic belief:
\"A person has freedom; the right to feel safe.\"
I learned in one night that this isn\'t the case.

As long as I\'ve lived, when I take on a task,
I see the thing through for as long as it lasts.
I spend several hours correcting each flaw.
I follow persistence like some divine law.

So when I am finished my studies at night,
It\'s often so late, it would give most a fright.
See I live close to campus, but don\'t have a car,
So when walking, the distance is actually quite far.

I\'d never had problems when walking back late,
But still I would maintain a vigorous gait.
My friends offered rides, but I often declined
\'Cause I\'m quite independent and thought I\'d be fine.

One day in the autumn, I leftm thm the school
Well after the new day (I think it was two).
My friends, they protested, as that was their way.
I smiled and I told them that I\'d be okay.

The campus was quiet, the stars filled the sky,
And the full silver moon was a treat to my eye.
I walked several minutes, in awe of its glow
When ddenddenly heard a voice I didn\'t know.

\"Excuse me, young lady, do you have a light?\"
I shook my head \'no\', and I passed on his right.
I felt kind of edgy; my senses all buzzed.
I was then too aware of just how late it was.

\"So, girl, wha\'s your name?\" the stranger inquired.
My heart beat so fast that my chest was on fire.
\"I asked you a question!\" he suddenly cried.
I was sure at that moment that I would soon die.
He walked up beside me and smiled in my face.
I tried to walk faster - he kept up my pace.
\"So where are you going, and where have you been?\"
Amazing how quickly he\'d made me his \'friend\'.
The next couple minutes all happened so fast;
I\'m not really sure how much time had gone past.
He shoved me aside, then he pushed me again
\'Til I fell on my ass, and prepared to defend.
He dropped down beside me and pulled out a gun.
\"Now be a good girl, and we\'ll both have some fun.\"
I froze in sheer terror, suppressing a scream,
While telling myself this was all a bad dream.
\"Let\'s go to the bushes where no one will see.\"
I tried not to think of what he\'d do to me.
\"Sit down in that corner and open your coat.\"
I choked back the vomit that rose in my throat.
He sat down beside me and stroked my left cheek,
My head started pounding; my limbs had gone weak.
He jerked my right arm through the sleeve of my shirt.
He squeezed; I\'m not sure, but I think that it hurt.
I backed into the corner where he shoved me down.
He held the gun on me, looked quickly around,
And lay down beside me, the gun at my head.
Again I was certain that I would be dead.
He opened my jeans and then opened his own.
(Why didn\'t I just take the fucking ride home?!?)
My life flashed before me, like scenes in a play.
And then came the pain as my hymen gave way.
\"My God, you\'re a virgin!\" he practically drooled.
I wanted to cry, but my common sense ruled.
This man was plain crazy; that fact was so true.
If I made a sound, who knew what he would do?
I suffered in silence, fought back tears of shame,
And asked myself if he or I was to blame.
He got what he wanted with climactic moans,
Then withdrew, zipped up, and just left me alone.
I closed up my pants and I buttoned my coat.
I tasted the tears in the back of my throat.
I felt so damn dirty, so filthy and cheap.
Drew my knees to my chest, and I started to weep.
I pulled it together, got up and ran home.
I threw up four times, and then picked up the phone.
I called 9-1-1 and explained what took place.
I blamed my damn pride and I cried in disgrace.
I dreaded the day when my friends would all know.
I mourned \'the lost virgin\' while burning my clothes.

My friends were supportive; I\'m glad they\'ve been near.
I need them to help me combat my new fears.
I don\'t have to tell you they won\'t let me walk.
They drop me off home; say it wasn\'t my fault.

So I guess I\'ve survived, though I am not the same.
I\'m jumpy when anyone calls out my name.
Yes, he attacked me, but that\'s not the worst.
He knows who am \'cause that dog stole my purse.

He got some cheap pleasures from our \'little tryst\'.
I got scarred for life and a broken damn wrist.
So that was my story, a tale about costs,
And power, and sex, and my maidenhood lost.

So why have I relayed my story of woe?
My answer is simple - I don\'t really know . . .
I don\'t want your pity . . . please don\'t mourn my fate . . .
I guess all I want is for YOU to be safe.

(written in autumn of 1998)