NEWYORICANGIRL writes about her childhood rape and abduction in her book…

29 Sep

Back to the scene of the crime #2 9-22-09

(The scene of my abduction and rape when I was 9 years old.)

 

I am a virginal nine-year-old little girl and he is looming over me, planting

his feet on the cement so I cannot get past him. It is just before 4 o’clock

in the aft ernoon on an ordinary school day and the sun is out. I’m on a

wide sidewalk just around the corner from my doorman building in one

of New York City’s safest neighborhoods. But still, I can tell I’m in serious

danger.

 

His hair is greasy and his eyes are ugly. He is wearing a black leather

jacket and he looks tough. When he begins talking to me, I can tell he is a

liar and is using a pretend voice like the one the big bad wolf in Little Red

Riding Hood used.

 

He tells me he is a police officer who needs my “help finding an old lady’s

dog.” Inside, my gut is screaming at me, “Run! Run!! Get away from him!!!”

But, I cannot because I am a good girl, raised by adults who have never given

me permission to challenge the command of an adult.

 

I silence my frantic inner voice, as he snatches my small hand and

puts it in his while forcing me to cross the street. I had not expected to be

led away in a fl esh handcuff and so now I am sure he is stealing me and I

will die.

 

On the southern side of this block there is a row of matching pre-war

buildings, just a football field away from my guarded apartment fortress that

is still in my sight. I keep turning my head back, hoping that a real police

officer or any grown up will notice what is happening to me. My panic is

rising with each step we take because I know my safety is fleeting the further

away I am taken.

 

In shock, my mind feels like scrambled eggs being whipped into

submission and I can tell my psyche is being broken like an egg. I don’t know

where he is abducting me to, at the same time that I am trying to memorize

the route so I might have a chance to escape.

 

My hand remains invisibly welded to his, as he takes me down a flight

of steel stairs leading to the building’s basement. My eyes are blinking too

fast and my stomach is internally vomiting with fear…

 

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