But what if he’d been watching me come and go for months, targeted me, and then grabbed me tonight? That scares the fuck out of me. He really hurt me.
I’m not sure what would have happened if someone hadn’t pulled into the parking lot when they did. A good Samaritan who also called the police and stayed with me until they arrived. I don’t even know who it was. Some random guy from my building.
What if he hadn’t come home at that exact moment? I know I screamed, but it wasn’t loud enough. No one came. What if the attacker had taken me to another location? He’d intended to. He’d lifted me right off my feet and started walking. It was only because I managed to knee him in the fucking balls that he released me.
He could have killed me when he took me down to the ground. He could have slammed my head into the concrete, either on purpose or by accident. He could have punched me so hard that he broke my jaw or skull. He could have yanked my tights down and raped me right there on the sidewalk.
My skirt and sweater are both torn. He could have yanked them right off me and left me cold, naked, and alone. I would have been bleeding. Or maybe he’d intended to kill me after he raped me. Maybe he had a knife or a gun that I didn’t see.
I pull into myself even tighter and scream when I feel hands resting on my shoulders.
“Simone, baby, it’s me. Camden.”
I tip my head back and look at him. It is. Camden. It’s not my attacker. It’s my savior. The man who stepped in tonight to bring me home and give me a place to sleep. The man who says he wants more. Was he just saying that?
“Baby…” His brow is furrowed. “I heard you crying. I knocked and called your name, but you didn’t answer, so I came in.” He sits against the wall beside me, carefully scoops me off the floor, and settles me sideways on his lap.
I didn’t realize I was crying, but now I am. I’m sobbing. I can’t stop.
He gently rocks me. “I’m right here, Little one. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I know this. Intellectually, I know it. But I can’t seem to shut down my brain.
“I couldn’t do it,” I finally sob around hiccups.
“Do what, baby?”
“Get in the tub. I couldn’t take my clothes off.”
“Does it hurt too much?”
“No…” I sob harder again. “I don’t want to look at myself,” I manage.
“Oh, Baby girl…” There’s pain in his voice.
I feel bad that I’m putting him through this. It’s more than he bargained for. I’m a hot mess. I’ve never been like this in my life. Not even when I left home to go to college without any intentions of returning. That stung, but not like this.
I’m a strong, independent woman. I don’t cry. I don’t panic. I don’t have meltdowns. Camden must think I do this all the time.
He just holds me and rocks me. “I’ve got you. You could skip the bath, but I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in these clothes.”
“I don’t even want to see these clothes again,” I say definitively. “And I want to wash that fucker off my skin. I want to scrub him off me. He touched me. He touched my hair and face.” I shudder. He had his hands all over my body, but mostly through my clothes. I feel icky.
“Want me to turn the lights off?” he asks without laughing. He’s serious.
“Will you do it for me, please?”
“Do what, Baby girl?”
“Wash me,” I whisper almost too softly to hear myself. I’m asking too much of him. It’s going to sting when he turns me down. He’s already told me twice tonight he didn’t want to see me naked. I’m a fool for asking.
He tips my head back. His expression is serious. His brow is deeply furrowed. “Simone, are you sure that’s something you’re ready for?”
