My Biggest Mistake Part 3

Water dripped onto my face. I opened my eyes. I was still a little dizzy and my view of where I was, was blurred. I sat up, waiting for my vision to clear. There was a familiar smell of wet wood. When my eyesight had returned, I could see I was on my front porch. I tried to remember how I got there. I couldn’t. But, I remembered the night before. At first, I thought it was a dream. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a nightmare. A horrific one. Tears swarmed my eyelids until I set them free. I didn’t stop crying for two hours. I finally pulled my body up off of my wet front porch and with my head pounding I walked inside.
The first thing I did after getting inside was to reach for the phone. I felt so alone. I had to tell someone. I called my best friend, Jessica.
“Jessica? Its Desiree.”
“Oh, hey girly. What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you.” I stumbled over the words trying not to choke on my deep sobs.
“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” I told her everything I could remember.
“ I’ll be over as soon as I can. We need to get you to the doctor,” she said. I hung up the phone and began to feel alone again. She couldn’t get there fast enough.
The doctor told me I had been drugged with a powerful and popular date-rape drug. He said most girls don’t remember anything. I was lucky, or so he thought. He prescribed the early contraceptive pill to me because Ryan had not used protection when he raped me. He said I needed to call the police and press charges.
Jessica drove me home that day and stayed up with me all night while I cried. We called the police the next morning. No one answered so I left a message explaining what had happened. I was so afraid that I would become pregnant but the EC pill did its job and I bled. Now that I was safe from being pregnant, that fear turned to anger. I wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t come after me or anyone else again. He had to pay.
After the police didn’t call me back I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went looking for him. It had been two days since he raped me. My first stop was the lifeguard station just south of the beach where I met him. I was a little nervous at first not knowing what to do if he was actually there.
“I’m sorry, he’s not working today,” said a fake, prissy blonde from behind the receptionists desk.
“All right.” I turned and walked out.
I had absolutely no luck the next day. He wasn’t at home or anywhere near the beach and restaurant.
On the evening of the third day after it happened, I had just sat down to a piece of leftover steak when I heard a noise. Now, usually, I keep my doors unlocked. My house is about a mile and a half away from any neighbors so I am very trusting about my door locks. However, since the recent events I had locked them. Maybe out of habit I had left them unlocked. I slowly walked out of the kitchen. The front door was wide open. My heart began beating at the walls of my chest. He was there, standing in the shadows of the porch light. He had a hateful, demonic gleam in his eyes. He ran at me. Right as I turned to run to the kitchen, he pounced. Ryan wrenched my hands behind my back and walked me to the kitchen where he slammed me against the kitchen counter.
“You had to say something, didn’t you? You little tramp. If you had just kept your fucking mouth shut, it wouldn’t have to end like this,” he whispered in my ear. The stench of his breath was unbearable and his clothes reeked of alcohol. He bent my back against the counter. Pulling away, he slapped me. Then he punched me. My neck was wrenched sideways by the blow and could feel blood dribbling out my nose and into my mouth. He pushed my hands back against the counter. That’s when I felt it. The handle of the knife I’d used for my steak.
The first slash went straight through the pupils of the eyes I once thought were gorgeous. He screamed like I had just before he raped me. I ripped the knife out, revealing only a socket where the eye had once been, and slammed it into his skull. With one last surge of anger, I pushed him off of me, yanked the knife and slid it into his neck. I can still hear his flesh ripping and see the blood spurting out in time with his dying heartbeat.
When it was all over, there was blood everywhere. The whit walls in my kitchen were covered. It ran down my cheeks and dripped gently off my fingers. I looked at his lifeless body. The knife was still embedded in his neck, but I didn’t care. I reached for the phone and dialed 911.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“I was raped three nights ago. I tried calling the police but no one returned my calls. Oh god. He came to my house. He attacked me. I think he was going to kill me I really do. Send someone, quick. There’s blood everywhere. I stabbed him. Three times. He’s dead now.” The police came about twenty minutes later. I was taken to the hospital and checked over. I wasn’t seriously injured, just a few cuts and bruises. My house was taped off as a crime scene while the investigators tried to determine if I had killed him in self defense or if it was second degree murder. They put me up in a hotel while deciding.
A few nights later, I received a phone call. It was the lead investigator. He wanted me to go through the whole story with him again. I did. He said the only reason they had to doubt my case was that, usually, a self defender would stab someone only once and then run away. I had stabbed him, viciously, three times. He ended up telling me that there would be no charges pressed against me. They had ruled that it was self defense. It was over.
I moved to Panama City about a year later. I guess some people just can’t forget the fear and anger they feel. That’s how I was. I couldn’t forget how he had come into my house to kill me. I couldn’t forget the blood on my walls even though I had painted over them many times. So, I packed my things and moved to Panama City with Jessica. She had been thinking about moving down there and I just gave a cause to her decision.
My life here was hard at first. I wasn’t going to school. We were barely getting by. Money was tight. But, soon, I was able to put the past behind me. I looked to a new future. I am stronger now. With the help of my aunt and uncle, I enrolled at a local college and continued my education. I began to make more money as the pay raises began. Now, we live comfortably in our little apartment complex near the highway. And, as often as I get the chance, I surf.
I will never forget the night I took a stand against someone who was bigger and stronger than me. If given the chance, I know he would have killed me. The point is, I didn’t let him have that option. I fought back. Now, I am teaching others to do the same. I lead RV, a support group for rape victims here in Panama City. I also assist with a women’s self defense class whenever I get the chance.