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The Story

October 26, 2009

This is a very unaltered, very raw depiction of what happened to me and Luna (from my journal written a few days after the attack). 12/10/05

An older black man came to my door in the afternoon, asking to rake my leaves.  I told him “no thanks.”  He asked to leave his phone number, I said fine, closed the door and locked it and grabbed an envelope and sharpie for him.  I opened the door and he wrote down his phone number then asked for a drink of water, so I closed the door locked it and filled a cup with water.  He took the cup and pulled out a rather large knife which he used to force me into my house.  My 2 year old daughter stood at the door screaming and crying while the strange man pushed me and forced me into my home.  I begged him not to do anything to my little girl, he told me to shut up and hit me in the face, he asked “where’s the money” I told him I didn’t have any – my daughter in my arms crying for daddy- and begged him not to hurt my daughter or do anything in front of her.  He told me to pick her up and turn her around and for me to turn around on the couch so that my rear was facing him.  My little girl wriggled herself around and she could see that bastards face, she could see him pull down my pants- first to my knees then to my ankles, she could see him take out his penis and she could see him forcing it into my anus.  The crying and the fear, my little angelic girl, I must make her safe.  I continually tried to console her, “its okay mommy is here, mommy is here”  I was holding her and she could see him raping me.  I didn’t think about what was happening to me, I felt him try to enter my vagina, then lick his fingers – where is the knife?  I turn slowly, slightly, it is in his hand, he is waving it at me – I need to get Luna safe.  I beg him to let me take my 2 year old daughter to her room.  He agrees, tells me to take off my pants and my shoes.  I know if I don;t do what he says, Luna or I could be killed.  I walk upstairs with my Luna who is hysterically sobbing, he is right behind me.  “It is okay Luna, stay in your room, I love you”, I shut the door he is right behind me.  I move down the steps he is right behind me.  ‘Kitchen, kitchen, kitchen, knife, knife, knife, which one, knife knife, I am dead’. My knife is on the floor, the knife is in my hand, the knife is in his chest, he stumbles.  I kick him in the balls “mother fucker!  get out!” I push him, and the fridge moves.  I push him – ‘his knife’-I grab the blade, ‘my hand must be in pieces’ and I don’t care, “get out mother fucker”  he is trying to get out himself now, stumbling, he is out!  I lock the door.  He trys to run but is found a few houses away, collapsed and barely breathing.  I grab the phone dial 911 and tell them my address, rape, stabbed, blood – LUNA-I go get my little girl “the police are on their way ma’am, do you want me to stay on the phone?”  Yes please!  My little girl is alive and in my arms!  I am alive, ‘Fuck this is a nightmare’.  The cops catch the attacker, 51 years old, he looked like a giant to me!  “You got him good” the officer told me – I hit a major artery.  Please let him die I say under my breath, but he is critical, then stable.  No-one understand why he is alive, should have died – death is too easy.  I can’t make sense of it, of anything, nothing makes sense.  How, why, nothing makes sense.Amy and Lu

Days following are filled with every emotion.  Panic hits me like a 10 ton truck, I breath, I shit, I breath, I look into my own eyes ‘pull ot of this, get control.’  I breath more, I walk outside it is so cold and my body is bursting with shakes.  I talk to my family, I walk, I can’t sit still, my nerves, my body is convulsing from emotions.  Anxiety, overstimulation and sadness take over.  I go out for a bit, have an anxiety attack and need to leave.  I am going to explode my emotions are too much.  My head is pounding, throbbing, dizzying.  The headaches are awful.  I see a counselor and cry most of the time.  I feel removed from the attack, but my emotions make it very real.  It’s like telling a story about someone you know, ‘how could this happen to me?’  After therapy, I feel good.  Later I feel euphoric, like on a “trip” – it frightens me.  My head is a balloon in the wind, the wind stop, my head stops, and the wind blows my head again.  I can’t gain control.  I feel a war inside my body – euphoria and misery, they are pulling and repelling and my head feels like a balloon.  I sleep, no nightmares.  Panic attacks, but only good dreams.  I wake up in the morning, drained, depressed, down from an unwanted high and I lie around all day.  I feel completely removed from the attack, and it frightens me.

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