His unshaven stubble scratched my face and his breath smelled like stale beer. My arms were pinned and I couldn’t move. He’s so strong. My mind was racing. How did I let this happen? My brain now flooded with a list of questions in an instant. His hand moved up my thigh reaching for the button on my pants.
College life was filled with a wave of new and exciting changes and challenges. One of which was the reality of purchasing text books. They were so expensive. Seventy-eight dollars?! I can’t spend that on “one book!!?” “Miss” the clerk exclaimed, “do you want the book or not?” I was asked to step aside until my decision was definitive.
I must have had the look of young and inexperienced underclassmen on my forehead. As I considered my options of limited resources over the next two weeks, another student – in his third year approaches me to discuss my dilemma. He says “you can get the same book used for less than half the price.” I knew he was lying and thought it was a pick up line.
He insists and gets others to convince me this was a customary practice on campus. “$20.00” he said. I asked, “why would you sell the book for so cheap?” He said, “I don’t need it anymore and that’s what people do.” I quickly agreed, hoping others hearing our conversation wouldn’t steal my deal.
He told me the book was in a room over the campus sandwich shop; the hangout for all the students. Everyone went there and they had the best hot dogs in walking distance.
I’ve always been strong and smart. How did I let myself get in this position? Why did I believe him when he said the book was at the top of the stairs? Why didn’t I question his motives? It appeared to happen faster than my sanity. He was friendly, well known and seemingly harmless.
It was dinner time and I could hear the roar of students below. They might as well have been a thousand miles away. No one could hear me. I asked again “where’s the book?”, as he sits on the bed. Then it happened in an instance. He pulled the book out of the drawer and grabbed me simultaneously. In one swift motion I was thrown to the bed.
His mouth covered mine. I couldn’t speak. It wouldn’t have mattered, the noise below was much too loud. I couldn’t think or believe what was happening. As his hand moved over my button, quickly loosed I become scared. My emotions began to race. I considered my limited choices. I began to pray. God please help me!
Amazingly I recall a self defense show that discussed remaining calm if ever attacked by a rapist. So I did. The class taught the psychology behind the mind of a rapist and their lack of defense or loss of control when their victim is compliant. So, I started to kiss him back.
Shocked by my reaction he stopped his aggression for a moment. I asked him “why are you rushing? I told him I thought he was attractive and asked if he had anything to drink before proceeding.” The look on his face was disbelief and he quickly jumped up and said he didn’t have anything but a guy down the hall did. He left the room in haste. I grabbed my book, collected myself on the way out passing the cheers of the sandwich shop and headed straight to the campus police. I cannot tell you the anguish, anger and shame I felt.
I had been violated and there was nothing I could do about it. Once I calmed myself I began to recall the series of events that early evening. It struck me so strong – God heard my prayer. Desperate, short and simple…God help me! He did. That night He became my closest friend.