Follow the White Rabbit

I

When Jessi turned off the ignition outside her apartment, the headlights doused and the wipers froze halfway up the glass. As a fine mist drifted languidly across the street, it eddied over the windshield, licking the surface until it fully wetted as if a layer of crystals refracted the cool white light of the nearby street lamps.

This time of year was colder than usual, and although the temperature inside her car started to drop, she didn't want to get out. She was afraid someone was hiding in the mist, just waiting for the chance to take her by surprise. Therefore, she sat there, and tried to psych herself up enough to get her things and head into the building.

Her parents raised her in this city, and she knew it wasn't characteristically dangerous. Most of the homes in the surrounding neighborhoods sold for over four-million each, and the apartments charged just south of three-thousand for a single bedroom unit. It was a typical community of wealth where the worst thing that happened was someone's yappy dog peed on someone's lawn.

For years, crime seemed non-existent to her. That remained true until someone mugged her friend Beth at a nearby gas station two weeks ago. The attacker didn't harm Beth or anyone else, but it was just enough to freak Jessi out because if it could happen to Beth, then it could happen to her. Hell, it could happen to anyone.

Suddenly, all the fright her father had metaphorically beat into her as a child came rushing back. The man was a notorious cynic and categorically hateful of men. Although women were no strangers to committing crimes, he believed women were more likely to commit crimes of necessity. Meanwhile, he maintained that men did stupid things because they needed to show off, which made them incredibly dangerous. Even more dangerous were the ones that couldn't get their hands on women for one reason or another, so they committed even worse crimes, like rape.

Though her father had passed long ago, it didn't stop him from whispering into her ear. She heard him admonish her for being out so late and warning her of how easy it would be for someone to sneak up on her in that fog. He constantly reminded her of how little time it would take for someone to take advantage of her, and then she'd be living as a victim for the rest of her life.

Life as a victim. That was the one thing she could never stand hearing him say. There are many reasons someone might become a victim, but she believed that if someone was strong enough, he or she could overcome that feeling of being a victim. She knew that one could never forget an atrocity forced upon them by another, but that didn't mean they had to live as a victim for the rest of their life.

Some people liked to believe that people are not victims. They call them survivors. They feel like to call them a victim continues to victimize them. She thought this was silly. Maybe she believed that people didn't have to be victims for their whole life, but they were a victim of violence, regardless of what you do or do not call it. Mostly non-victims make up these stupid names, and then think it somehow helps victims. Of course, she was never one herself, so she didn't really have much power of opinion.

Truthfully, she knew no single word to describe such an experience, and that by reducing it to a single-word description, be it victim or survivor, it took away from the actuality of it. Maybe she hadn't endured anything that shitty in her life, but that much she did know.

"Bah," she said, annoyed she even concerned herself with those thoughts. She knew the likelihood of something happening to her in Newport Beach was slim, and she knew she needed to get over it. There was no sense in sitting outside freezing when she could be in her nice toasty apartment.

She reached into the back of her car, and struggled to bring her painting equipment to the front. She could have just as easily stepped out and opened the rear door for easier access, but deep down inside, she didn't want to be out in the fog more than necessary. She may have mostly retired her fear, but that didn't mean she planned to give a criminal more opportunity than necessary.