Love Is . . .

Chapter 21

           ****WARNING THIS CHAPTER DEPICTS A GRAPHIC SITUATION THAT MIGHT BE DISTURBING***

           It was a particularly busy night at the diner. Everyone who was left to close up was exhausted. The rush was due to the town Christmas parade. What better way to warm up after hours of standing outside in the freezing cold than to bring your tired, hungry, and cranky family to eat a hot meal at the diner? Closing took an extra two hours just to clean it all up. It was down to me and Charlie, the middle-aged, overweight cook. We were finally ready to call it a night, and as we were heading out the door, it dawned on me that I forgot to grab my purse from the break room. Charlie, being a gentleman, offered to wait by the door while I ran back inside to get it, but I knew how worn out he was and told him to go on home. He hesitated for a second, but gave in with a weary 'thanks,' once I pointed out that my truck was parked right near the entrance.

       I hurried to the back where our break room was and grabbed my purse off the table. As I turned to head out, I noticed the trashcan was almost overflowing. In the chaos, that duty had been forgotten apparently. With tomorrow being Sunday, and the diner would be closed, I decided that I had better go ahead and run it out to the dumpster. As I went out the back door of the diner into the alley way, a gloved hand went quickly around my mouth muffling my scream. I was jerked back against a large male body. I remember trying to fight, kicking with my legs and thrashing my head side to side. But after his arm went around my neck squeezing tightly, I started to see spots and feel weak, my effort to fight was in vain. My strength was incomparable to my assailants. He dragged me backwards into the diner. The slamming of the big metal door is the last thing I hear before an exploding pain occurs on my right temple, and then darkness over takes me. 

       Sometime later, I start to come to. I'm now on the floor with my hands bound together above my head. They are tied to the stainless steel leg of the enormous cooking counter. I have a gag in my mouth, and it tastes like a combination of old grease and my own blood. I hear and feel a rip in my clothing. And to my horror, I realize my shirt is being ripped open to reveal my chest.

"No, please, no . . ." I try to moan around the rag in my mouth, but he doesn't stop. He gropes my chest with one hand while unbuttoning my pants with his other. I can't see his face due to the black ski mask he has on, but he reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, and body odor. I swallow down the bile in my throat. This can't be happening. I turn my head away as tears roll down my face. I stare at the orange tiled floor as he robs me of my virginity. My vision begins to tunnel until the blackness envelops me like a cocoon, and I go gratefully.

           The next time I awoke, I am alone, still bound and gagged with my clothes in tatters. I hurt all over. My body feels bruised from the inside out. I slowly roll onto my stomach and get into a kneeling position. I am able to slide the tie up the leg of the table as I stand. My head is throbbing where he hit me, and I get dizzy for a moment. I take some slow, deep breaths until the feeling passes. I look around and spot a large kitchen knife not too far away. Using my leg to reach it, I scoot it closer to me with my foot. I move it to the edge of the counter where I can grab it with my bound hands. Carefully, I angle my wrist and start sawing to cut the rope. After what feels like an eternity, my hands break free. I rip the gag from my mouth and suck in huge gulps of fresh air. Then beyond my control, I release an indescribable sound of anguish as I crumple back down onto the floor and sob. 

        I feel as if I am floating outside of my body. I see myself struggling to gather my belongings, buttoning what was left of my shirt to cover my nakedness. I lock the back door, make my way through the dark diner, lock the front door, and continue out to my truck. I don't really remember the drive home, just opening my front door to see my father passed out on the couch with the TV screen illuminating the otherwise dark room. As if in a trance, I walk straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower to the hottest level it will go. Then stepping into the steaming water, I try to clean away my shame.