Learn From My Mistake

     I apologize for the lack of details in what I am about to tell you, but this has been bothering me and I have to get it off my chest.  This happened when I was nineteen, but I remember like it was yesterday and still to this day it sends shivers down my spine when I think about it. 

     Again I was nineteen, naïve and thought I was invincible though I was a bit unsettled about driving by myself at night.  I am very petite and look way younger than I actually am, often mistaken for a child. At the time I was driving a 1986 four door white Plymouth Caravelle with maroon interior.  It was a step above my first car which was a 1982 Chrysler Plymouth, but still not the ideal vehicle for a teenager graving flash rather than substance. Of course it got me to work and back home and this was during my first job ever.  I know, I know.  Usually someone who is responsible has a job at fifteen, perhaps sixteen, but I was a somewhat sheltered child and never experienced the real world like most kids until my mom met a man who totally turned my world upside down, but that is a completely different story for another time.

     I am not going to disclose the name of the company nor would I want to, but it was one of those places that took care of disabled people usually with mental impairments and at that time I think there were five houses.  It has since expanded.  The house I was usually scheduled to work at was out in a heavily forested area, miles away from the nearest highway and the nearest neighbor was hardly home.

     It was summer, I think well into July because it was hot as hell outside and I spent most of the day inside tending to daily chores and conversing with the clients. I treated them as any other person.  I never talked down to them or like they were children because despite their various handicaps they were still human beings and needed to be considered as such.  Nightfall soon came and my co-worker’s shift had concluded fifteen minutes prior, leaving me as the only staff member on duty.  As I took a client out to have a cigarette, since smoking was not allowed in the house, our focus quickly shifted to the dirt road that went past the small property to a dead end.  A two door car with tinted windows rolled by without its headlights on, a little weird, but not fear inspiring though that would change once     it rounded back and rolled by once more.

     “Who is that,” the client whispered in between drags, blowing smoke from his nostrils as he flicked ashes into an ashtray kept outside on a windowsill.  “Do you know who that is?”

     I shook my head and replied, “No, but don’t worry about it.  It might be a neighbor who missed his turn.”  The things you tell yourself in order to silence alarm bells…naivety kicked into overdrive as we watched it creep out of sight.  Trees obscured our view, prevented us from fully understanding its location and we assumed it was headed back to the paved street miles up.

     After the client snuffed the butt in the ashtray we headed back inside.  Normalcy followed and I truly believed my own senseless conclusion.  After all we’ve had people pass by before only to circle around and head back the way they came.  I even recall a few incidents where random folk would by mistake turn into our driveway realize their blunder and pull back out again.

     Bedtime came and as the clients marched off to their rooms I did last minute touch ups before the night person came on duty.  It was about this time I thought I heard a faint sound like fingernails rapping against glass.  I shrugged it off, chalked it up to one of the clients perhaps playing around, but as I made my rounds to each of the four bedrooms I soon realized they were all in bed fast asleep. 

     I frowned.  Maybe it was my imagination.  I went back into the living room and took a quick peak out the large window overlooking the deck and short driveway.  There was a slight breeze rustling through the bushes and trees and I relaxed a bit, assuming it was the culprit behind the noise.  My car sat alone under a bent lamp post.  A few days earlier I had backed into it inadvertently since I am admittedly a lousy driver.  After pressing my way into the kitchen to make sure the dishes were done up I heard it again only this time it was louder and seemingly coming from a different window than before.

     It’s just the wind, I reminded myself though noted how horribly cliché that sounded in my head and proceeded to re-enter the living room when I froze in my tracks.  Was that a hand on the window?!  If it was…the person it belonged to crouched in order to avoid being seen.  I watched the perfectly trimmed fingernails drum against the glass and my body went numb.  Being in complete denial I refused to believe what I was seeing and instead decided to check on the clients once more.  Somehow it made me feel better.  Then I remembered the front door was unlocked.  As a rule we weren’t allowed to lock it due to the traffic of workers coming and going and not everyone could have a key.

     Slowly I reemerged into the hallway that led to the living room and the window where I thought I had seen a hand.  Relief washed over me as night staff’s car pulled into the drive.  I should have told him what I thought I heard and saw, about the car earlier that crept by, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there, go home and sleep.  I tried to compose myself as he entered the house and after a friendly exchange I grabbed my purse and car keys then hurried to my car. 

     Remember I told you how naïve I was?  Well you might as well add stupid dumb a*s to the list because I realized I had forgot to lock my car doors, but like an utter moron I didn’t pay it a second though and got inside.  Immediately as I slid behind the steering wheel there was a foreign smell.  Having spilled apple body mist on the seat a few weeks prior I expected the same familiar scent to greet me, but this was more like men’s cologne or aftershave.

     Reluctantly I looked in my rearview mirror.  My heart was hammering against my ribs as I surely thought a face other than my own would stare back at me.  Thankfully all I saw was an empty back seat and darkness.  Meanwhile I slipped the key into the ignition and started to pull onto the narrow dirt road when I felt fingers drumming on my shoulder.  Before I could brake however and leap out a hand seized me by the throat and a gutter voice whispered in my ear, “Keep driving.”

     Honestly I couldn’t even think let alone maneuver a car.  My brain was shutting down, but in the process of it all I noticed out of the corner of my vision the car from earlier abandoned on the shoulder though slightly askew and more like in the ditch rather than on the shoulder like most cars would be if the driver was having a bout of engine trouble.  Somehow I managed to brake and shift into park. 

     “I said to keep driving,” he hissed.

     At this point tears were stinging my eyes and when I tried to speak my voice sounded pathetic and childlike.  “I can’t,” I stammered.  To further my dismay he hopped over the front seat and now sat beside me.  He was a large man though compared to my stature most people seemed massive.  I didn’t want to look at him as he filled what little space there was between us. 

     “Drive,” he insisted and like a robot I complied.  Blinking away tears my chest tightened and stomach cramped.  He put an arm around me and it was hard not to notice his firm muscles as his hold tightened.  His hand began to caress my stomach and I thought he would try to grope my breasts or crotch, but surprisingly enough he didn’t.

     Something in me began to flourish then.  I managed a glance at him.  He was wearing a black shirt and pants, clean shaven and well-kept, not like those ragged psychos you see in horror movies, but what I noticed more than anything was his piercing blue eyes.  They almost seemed to glow in the dark.

     “I don’t have much money,” I said after swallowing hard.  “But you can have whatever I got.”

     He laughed as if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.  “I don’t want or need your money, little girl.”

     Oh my God, I thought to myself.  Upon reaching the first paved road I trembled as a million thoughts scattered my brain in all directions. 

     “Turn left,” he instructed.  Left led away from any familiar stretch of road I knew, but I did as he said and guided the car left. 

     “What do you want,” I finally asked though still hated how frail I sounded.

     For a moment he was silent and then responded darkly, “You.  I’ve been watching you for a while now.  I’ve been wondering what you might smell like and even taste like.”

     I won’t lie.  I nearly pissed myself when he stressed that one word even if his overall statement wasn’t enough to make my blood run cold.  Taste.  Taste as in cannibalism?  Was this dude a cannibal?  No, I quickly told myself, he’s just a pervert.   As if I hadn’t realized it sooner I was in deep s**t and needed an escape plan.

     I slouched, complained of a stomachache and that I needed to pull over to puke.  It wasn’t a complete fabrication, but I had no intention of actually puking my guts out if he allowed me to pull over.  At first he was reluctant, skeptical and holding me painfully against him. I veered onto the low shoulder and repeated to him the urgency to vomit.  With a huff he relented and leaned to open the door for me.  Careful not to alert him I slid out slowly, but as he scooted after me I slammed the door, trapping his hand in the course of it and as I bolted into the woods I heard him swear and howl in pain.

     Twigs and leaves crunched under my feet as I blindly ran deeper and deeper into forest and darkness.  It was a miracle I didn’t trip or collide with a tree as I kept looking over my shoulder to see if he gave chase.  Sure enough he had and he was closing in fast. 

     “Don’t run from me,” he screamed.

     Spying a steep embankment on my left I threw myself down it and rolled for what seemed an eternity.  When I came to stop I seriously reconsidered vomiting as the world spun around me.  I staggered to my feet.  Panting hard I found myself breaking into a run once more.  The faint burning from scraps registered then and I wondered how badly I hurt myself throwing myself down the embankment.  Maybe they weren’t scraps but deep cuts requiring stitches and I was leaving a bloody trail for him to follow.  I darted behind a bush enveloped in tall grass and crouched down, desperate to catch my breath. 

     Was he still following me, I wondered and sat as quiet as possible, listened for any sign of his presence, and peeked out only when I heard him yell in the distance. 

     “Come out,” he bellowed.  “Don’t hide from me!”

     Pulling debris from my long hair I jerked in the direction of what sounded like tires thudding on pavement.  Had I managed to run in a complete circle?  I popped out to run toward the noise and sure enough civilization came into view.  Even more unbelievable was the sight of my car idling not more than a few yards away.  With its headlights highlighting my path I dashed for it, keeping an eye on the trees in case he materialized and started pursuing me again.  Just as I swung open the door he appeared and I flung myself behind the wheel and sped the hell out of there, glancing in the rearview mirror to see him, of course, in hot pursuit.

     “No,” I heard him scream over the roar of my engine. 

     Heading the opposite direction I was use to I frantically looked about for any signs of familiarity as he became a speck over the horizon.  Eventually I came to fork in the road and this time listened to my instincts and took a left.  I’m glad I did because it led back into town.  It took a while though and I was beginning to think I was getting myself lost further.  So imagine my happiness when stores and stoplights swelled in the distance.   

     I should have gone to the police.  I should have told my mom or my aunt who I was living with at the time, but I didn’t want to worry anyone or get involved with police.  I never saw the man again and predictably I quit my job soon after to work at Burger King.  It paid less and seemed like a step backwards in terms of job experience, but I didn’t care.  For as long as I live I will never forget that night.