Memoirs of A Healer/Clinical Social Worker: Autobiography of Bruce Whealton

Chapter 63: Trauma and Victimization

This is a very traumatic and disturbing story to tell. I want to imagine that you, dear reader, are with me and supportive of me as I tell this. This chapter is only the beginning of a terrifying event in my life.

Victimization

As I said, there were things that were irreplaceable and of infinite value to me. I was scared by the sudden eviction and not yet having any arrangements for what to do with those things.

Things like this happen and there are resources in the community to help people when they get behind on rent.

What was about to happen to me was the darkest and most evil thing that any person could do to another person. The first part of the story may not seem like the evilest thing you have ever read because that will be revealed in the next chapter.

It was Friday, October 15, 2004. I believe the date is October 15, 2004. I was planning for a yard sale the next day. I had lots of books. Someone I met at the homeless shelter was going to join me. She was a new friend. It's important to note that she was a black woman - this will be relevant in a moment.

Books were stacked up all over the apartment - the single room apartment.

You couldn't get pizza delivered there because it was known to be a bad part of town. The only females that showed up there unaccompanied by someone good like me were prostitutes willing to sell their body for $10, which must have been the cost of a fix on crack.

I had been mugged more than once walking down the street after dark. More than once. There were other times when the police had to come out there. Someone in the apartment across from mine almost got shot by another tenant.

At about 5 PM, I was expecting my new friend to show up to prepare for tomorrow's yard sale. She was a very sweet person. I had met her at the homeless shelter but that doesn't mean she wasn't very intelligent, talented, or educated. I had been in the shelter, myself, or I was there for meals so one should not look down on anyone who finds themselves down and out. She was just a friend, though. I was still seeing Shonda. I wasn't in love with Shonda, but we were dating.

Because I was expecting someone, I left my door partially open so I could hear if anyone knocked on the front door to the building.

I then heard someone say, "where's Bruce?"

I instantly turned in the direction of where I heard this and looked at the stairway that went toward the upstairs. A woman had walked partly up the stairs and was looking at Danny, one of the tenants. I had no idea who this woman was. She was white and about my height, perhaps in her mid-twenties.

Immediately after she heard me say "I'm Bruce," she moved without pausing and entered my apartment room. This happened so fast that I had no time to react and say, "who are you?" or to not let her enter my home.

I stepped into the room behind her, and she then closed the door and locked it. This happened in a few split seconds. She then turned around and started to brutally and violently punch me in the face repeatedly.

I was dazed and shocked. I staggered backward. There wasn't much room between the door and the couch where I fell.

She shouted, "why do you keep calling me?"

I answered, "who are you?" with genuine shock in my voice. I was wondering who the heck was attacking me. And why was this happening? She was a total stranger. Everything happened so fast.

I was hurting badly. Blood was pouring out of my nose and across my face almost immediately. Less than sixty seconds had passed.

Was she high on drugs? I did not think that I had ever seen her before.

She had invaded my home; my apartment and I had no idea why.

Somehow, I managed to pull her toward the door. I had brought my hand to my face and noticed it was smeared with blood. As I pulled her toward the door, I left a blood-smeared thumbprint on the door frame. I then unlocked the door and got her outside. I wanted to establish safety from this crazy person so I could call 911.

As I tried to shut the door, she was pushing to get back inside. I couldn't close the door. So, I reached my hand through to try to get her away from the door so I could call for help.

Finally, I got the door closed and locked. I picked up my phone and dialed 911.

Some of the guys who lived in the house were coming back from work at that time.

I emerged from the room after realizing she was gone. There were three people in the hallway or on the stairs who looked with shock at just how badly I was bleeding.

Someone asked if I knew her, and I said I had no idea who she was. I was told to go look in the bathroom at how bloody I was. I was shocked at how profusely I was bleeding all across my face. I wondered why I was not bruised as opposed to seeing my face sliced up like this.

Joachim, one of the other tenants asked me, "so, you don't know her from Adam?"

"No, I have no idea who she was," I answered.

I didn't think to ask if any of them recognized her. I assumed they would have said so if they did.

Someone asked me why I let her into my apartment. I said, "It happened so fast. I didn't have time to think. She just walked right into my room and then locked the door. What could I do? After she came down the stairs, she entered the apartment in a split second. I had the door open because I was expecting someone."

I was wearing a fairly dark striped, green short sleeve shirt. It was covered in blood. I was wearing shorts and those were covered in blood as well. Even my socks and shoes were bloody.

Within a few minutes, the police arrived in response to my 911 call. They were let in the front door to the building which is right next to my apartment. I heard them and stepped out to greet them.

The first police officer held out his hand saying, "don't come too close." I knew he didn't want to get my blood on him. I was still bleeding. Blood was all over the apartment.

The police officers started taking witness statements. No one had any idea who she was nor had they seen her previously. I stated the same thing, that I had no idea who she was. I described exactly what happened and how it happened. At least they weren't chastising me for letting her enter my apartment. They seemed to understand that I was shocked and that everything happened too fast for me to react.

I was asked if I wanted paramedics. I was in such a state of shock but even I knew that my injuries should be photographed. Surely, they had cameras to do this. Surely it was going to be necessary for the court to prosecute her for her crime.

Then I heard a phone ringing in my room. I had not noticed previously that she was carrying a phone. I gave the phone to the police officers saying that this might help them find the perpetrator of this crime.

I had not noticed anything that would indicate why she was able to slice open my face and cause me to bleed so profusely.

The police left shortly after that.

I thought that I would not find anything more out about this for some time. That calculation would prove to be wrong. This nightmare was about to get even more terrifying than you can imagine.