Walking Through the Desert (On Hiatus)

Walking Through the Desert

I pulled my coat tighter against myself as the cold winter air of London hit me once again. I should have worn a heavier jacket, but it had been much warmer when I left my hotel, and I didn't even realize it would get so cold so quickly.

As I walked down the street, the wind whipped my hair around my face, making it more difficult for me to see where I was going. I felt like I was being watched so I turned around, but saw absolutely nothing in the backstreet I was in.

I looked around for another moment before looking forward again and cautiously taking a step forward. Nothing happened; no one popped out at me or dragged me off to kill me like my suddenly paranoid self had thought. I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard another set of footsteps once again, and this time, in the alley across the street, there was a loud banging noise, like that of a metal trashcan lid being dropped to the pavement.

I quickened my pace down the street looking behind me every few feet. After a minute of doing this, a lone car went down the street. The headlights temporarily blinded me for a moment and that was all it took.

A large hand closed tightly around upper arm and pulled me into the alleyway I had been next to. The entire alley was filled with a rank odor and a stale smoke smell. The person that grabbed me leaned towards my ear and breathing heavily slurred, "I've waited too long, sweetheart." I shivered and crinkled my nose in disgust at how heavily his breath smelled of alcohol.

He pulled me closer to him and I struggled to pull away from the large man, but his grip was too strong. As I struggled, I opened my mouth and took a big breath to scream. Just as I was about to let it out, a filthy hand closed over my mouth. "Feisty, aren't we? Just the way I like 'em," he said.

With a grip as strong as ever, he reached one hand toward his pants and pulled out a pocketknife. He flipped it open and looked at the gleaming blade before bringing it so it was right against my neck. "Now, if you try screaming again, this knife might just, slip," he said with a small chuckle.

He kept the hand he had around my neck holding the knife in place as he reached his other hand down to his pants once again. I couldn't see what he was doing, but then I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

'No,' I thought. 'Not me! Please, not me! This can't be happening!' My current situation was finally registering through my mind. Fear and panic seized my body as I stopped struggling. It was obvious he wouldn't hesitate to slit my throat open.

The man pulled his pants down halfway and then took his free had to rip my clothing from my body. After my shirt and bra had been torn off and the man was ripping my pants off, the tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to finish up high school this year and head to college next year. I was supposed to meet someone and fall in love with them. I had been saving myself for the person that I knew I would spend the rest of my life with. Now this man was shattering all my childhood dreams.

After several tries, the disgusting man managed to pull my jeans and underwear off of me and carelessly threw them to the side. I felt his member press against the back of me and I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. The tears kept falling and my heart was beating faster than it ever had. My fear only increased as he slowly took the knife from my neck and dropped it on the ground as he entered me.

Pain shot through my entire body as he pounded into me. I let out a whimper and as he went back and forth, he whispered in my, "You like that, don't you?"

I shook my head and his hands gripped me even harder. "Stop lying, bitch. You know that you love it almost as much as I do," he grunted out.

I didn't want to argue with the man for the fear of angering him. I stopped the weak struggle that I had started against him and my whole body went limp.

After giving up from getting away, I only let out occasional whimpers and a scream, but no one came. The man kept going no matter how many times he had finished.

After the third time, I let out another scream, even though I knew it would be no use. Everyone that may have been on the backstreet would have gone inside or went home hours ago. I was alone.

Being lonely or alone wasn't a new feeling. When you have a workaholic mother and drug addict for a dad, you can't ever live a normal life. My father chased away anyone that came close to the house because he didn't want me to have friends. His words were, "Failures like you don't deserve friends."

I knew that it wasn't me that was the failure, but him. But still, imagine your own father telling you that he thinks you're a failure. It can really mess with you. Sometimes I'd dream that he would stop with the drugs and be normal and caring father, but then reality would hit me right in the face.

I wasn't even paying attention to anything around me anymore. The pain was too much and I was too weak to realize the man had stopped moving. I became more focused then because I saw a dark figure stop at the entrance to the alley. He saw me and immediately stormed towards the man raping me. It must've been a boy because as I fell to the ground and as he grabbed the man who had been violating me he shouted, "You're a sick man! How dare you touch this girl, or any girl, like that?!"

I had fallen so I couldn't see the boy hitting him, but I could hear every punch and kick. The rapist began fighting back and I heard someone's body thump onto the ground. I hope it's not the boy, I hope it's not the boy. If the boy got hurt, then I'd be in a lot of trouble.

Someone came over and crouched down next to me. I heard them take off their coat and the next thing I knew, I was being covered in something warm and smelled like vanilla, mint and faintly of smoke. They picked me up in their arms and leaned down to my ear softly whispering, "It's going to be alright, love. I'll take care of you."

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