Mein Leben, Mein Tod

Chapter One

“I am NOT a victim!” A punch to the swinging bag follows the moderate scream.

“I am not a victim…” A half-hearted blow came from an uncertain petite Asian woman.

On they came, one after another, affirming strongly or weakly they were not what they had become – victims.

“You actually think this shit works?” I asked the instructor.

“Well, it’s part of the healing process. They have to believe they aren’t victims.” He calmly stated.

I knew differently. They were victims. Victims of abuse, victims of rape and victims of a society sick with indifference.

Oh the age of electronic communicating was a boon for predators. Children and women have always been the targets of sick perversion and pervs loved the age of text messaging.

“Don’t look up. Don’t watch your surroundings. Just keep sending that text. That’s right. I’m not here – but I’m coming!”

I hated cell phones. I absolutely hated anything that put the weak at more risk than they already were.

I had been called in to assist in the re-training or re-conditioning of these soon to be not victims. I didn’t have very high expectations however. If an entire world was addicted to electronics, then what chance did any training have to make people more aware of danger? Little to none was my opinion. I owed a favor to a police Lieutenant on the Hamburg force and he was calling it in.

“Ja, just go and teach them bitte.”

Teach them what – to put away that damn cell phone, ignore the electronic beeps and buzzes that so entranced them? Yeah, good luck with that my girl.

You’d think after 17 years of active police duty in one position or another, I would have become immune to this feeling of impotent rage. Most police officers I knew did. They divorced themselves from their emotions when faced with horrific situations.

“Ladies! Your attention please. This is Officer Jackie Kanter from the San Francisco Police Force, here today to help you protect yourselves!” Kriminalkommissar Bauer, one of those Germans whose build reminded me of a farmer - large everything, introduced me to his class. I had been called in to replace someone else, whose name I forget, and pulled off my vacation time.

“Ja. Liebe Kolleginnen ich bin glücklich hier zu sein heute.” My German was rusty but I was hoping I had just told everyone how very pleased I was to be there with them. There were no snickers so I felt fairly certain my aim had been achieved.

I went on to explain to this class how little changes in behavior could keep them safe; not talking on a cell phone or sending texts while walking or driving. I went over safety measures they could take in a mall, in a grocery store, after dark. I could only hope some of what I explained would sink in with some of them. A hand went up.

“Your name?” I asked the petite blond woman standing off by herself. I noted her physical demeanor as one of extreme caution. Her shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow, head down with her eyes rolled up to see me – when she looked at me at all, all screamed of a human very afraid.

“Mia.” The whisper was almost indiscernible.

“Yes Mia, what was your question? Could you speak up a bit as well?” Again with the rusty German.

She must have understood as she raised her head, a tiny fraction and lifted her volume one thousandth of a decibel.

“I was wondering if you could – if maybe you would have….” Her voice trailed off and Bauer leaned over to whisper Mia’s circumstances.

“She was attacked by a person unknown as yet. Now she is being stalked, according to her. The Police have no proof of this happening.” He almost looked apologetic about that.

“Mia perhaps you would be more comfortable talking to me after class? I would be glad to answer your questions at that time, provided I can of course. Anyone else have questions?” I hoped to move focus away from the woman all hunched in on herself.