The Dark Journey
Chapter 8 - Under the Knife
Cold wind
rainy night
shivering and damp
stray dog
moves down the alley
cars
drive by
on the main streets
but I am
in the dark
footsteps
closer
trying not to breathe
silence
'don't stop here
damn you!'
thoughts racing
he sees me
run
too late
hands
on my neck
pushing me down
mud
grime
pain
shame
he takes
what he wants
crying
hurting
blood running
I want to die
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I spent the first days of 1994 looking for a pair of good walking shoes and a heavy coat. I would need these things for the trek that lay ahead of me. San Francisco was more than two hundred miles away, and I would probably have to walk a lot of it. I felt weary just thinking about it, but knew that it was best for me to leave this town as soon as possible.
I packed what I could of my belongings in my backpack and prepared for my departure. I had to leave a lot behind as it would be too burdensome on the road. I felt pangs of sadness as I silently said my good-byes to the books and other items that I wouldn't be taking with me. I kept the picture of Bogart and Hepburn as a reminder of Gus. He had told me how much he had loved that old movie, so I felt that this small piece of memorabilia would suffice as a way of remembering and honoring him.
Still I needed shoes. I thought about stealing a pair from a store somewhere, but I didn't want to add thievery to my list of sins. (How naïve I was!) I have told myself many times afterward that I should have just left and looked for footwear along the way and my life wouldn't have taken the turn that it did. Ah well! Such is fate!
I didn't notice the man who must have been following me. I was too intent on my search. By the time I realized that something was dreadfully wrong it was too late. Dusk had closed in and I was just thinking of heading home when I suddenly got a feeling of being watched. I told myself I was jumping at shadows but the feeling grew steadily stronger. The overcast of the day had turned into rain, and as I walked back down the alley I kept looking over my shoulder. Seeing nothing and no one, I moved on.
Making as if to cut through a yard, I opened a gate, making the move as obvious as I could, pressed myself against the wooden fence and started backtracking, keeping to the shadows and moving as silently as I could. I moved past one house, then another, my back to the fence and sidestepping and placing my feet slowly and carefully so as not to make any sound. I stopped for a moment to listen, but there were no sounds except the falling rain.
My heart was pounding furiously and I thought that it must be loud in the night. Anyone could hear the thumping and beating it was making. Just as I was about to move on I heard soft, stealthy footsteps. The noise of the rain made it impossible to tell which direction the sound had come from, so I stayed where I was, hoping I was concealed in the gloom. I tried to watch all directions at once, moving my head from side to side.
Hearing a small noise to my right, I turned and saw him, suddenly silhouetted against the dim glow of a porch light. He must have been doing exactly as I had, keeping against the fence, until he felt like he had me cornered. My heart leapt up into my throat and I darted to my left, hoping against hope that I was fast enough to reach the street three houses down. No such luck! I was caught so quickly and easily that I was stunned.
Holding my arms against my body with one arm and squeezing my neck with the other, he made it clear that resistance was futile. I stopped my struggles and allowed myself to be taken back over against the fence. There was little I could do except hope that if I cooperated enough he would let me go. He pushed me to the ground and placed a knife against my neck while he removed my jeans and tossed them aside. Instead of removing my panties, he cut through them, slicing my thigh in the process. I let out a sob as the pain struck, but that small pain was nothing compared to what he had in store for me.
As he proceeded to take me, his knife traveled across my face, neck, chest, stomach, and hips. I squirmed in pain, and I think maybe that is what he was hoping for. The more I writhed, the more excited he seemed to become. I tried to push away from him, but he held me fast with his weight, one hand over my mouth stifling my gasps and sobs. As he reached his climax, he drove the knife into my left side below the ribcage. Once, twice, three times. He shuddered with his orgasm, removed the knife, and left me there.
I'm not sure how long I lay there half naked with the rain falling on my pain-wracked body, but when I was finally able, I weakly felt around for my pants. I removed what was left of my panties and pulled on my pants, slowly, carefully so as not to aggravate my bleeding side. I stood up, leaning against the fence for support, and then slowly, holding the tatters of my shirt together with one hand, pressing my shredded panties into the wounds on my side to stop the flow of blood with the other, I began to make my way home.
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