I've only been a victim once in my life and that was one time too many...until today. Back in the day when my car had been broken into I thought that the worse had happened to me, and that the intrusion into my personal space was so devastating. And to think, that violation was only done to my vehicle, outside my home, parked in my driveway. Until today I could never have known what real devastation and victimization would feel like, or at least I hoped I never would.
Today, I almost became a statistical victim, but I choose to stand and fight and meet my attacker head on and strike first. I'll get to the point and work my way backwards while the images are fresh and clear, because I pray that this day will pass quickly and take with it all the emotions and thoughts I've had to endure throughout to never return and haunt me...'nevermore'.
He came up behind as they usual do, I guess, thinking that the optimal position would be the vulnerable spot, the blind spot where the prey doesn't expect, as opposed to a frontal attack. When I felt his hands on my shoulders it took no effort on my part to clench my fist firmly around the weight I held in my hand and send a right hook across his face making contact, dead-center, with his eye socket. It may not have been as powerful as I had hoped, but it was enough to send him reeling back; aghast at the surprise move I'm sure he didn't expect.
He spoke to me in my father's native tongue, which is to say he spoke to me in Spanish. With a pained look in his eye. causing me to second guess my actions, as he continually cried out, 'why I struck him'. Immediately causing me confusion and doubt about what I had just done. Did 'I' assault him? Was I wrong? The conflicting voices in my head screamed out to me, but the one that came clear was the one that reminded me of the following: (1) he was intruding on my personal space, (2) he violated that space by putting his 'unwanted' hands on my person, and (3) wasn't it unusual that during my run he was seen in various spots along my route...as if, perhaps, he may have been following me. Stalking me, like a predator to his prey. And of all the places along my route he had to choose from he just happened to decide to accost me in the one area where, one way in one way out, was isolated and deserted; for the most part.
Normally, this should not warrant any raised eyebrows since throughout my trek there are several people out and about. But when asked by the deputy to point out some facts that didn't add up I can say that is was unusual that he wasn't dressed for the occasion, in the respect that he appeared to look more like he was on his way to work, as opposed to wearing an outfit deemed for outdoor exercise. While this is still something that shouldn't be used to judge a person, it was, for me, an interesting point of fact.
The most compelling fact that struck, both the officer and myself, is that at one point when he came across my path, yet again, he had the misfortune of coming out in front of me; which to my relief left me carefree to disassociate myself from those voices in my head that warned me of some impeding doom. That relief compounded when he ducked into the side yard of the last house just before I was to take my turn into the trails, beyond the access roads, behind the residential dwellings. It was safe to assume that he was done with his activities and had made it home which happened to be in direct line of my route...or so I thought.
However, that relief was quickly dispelled when the worst of my dilemma came rushing towards me so quickly that, even now, the playback in my mind is but a blur in my mental vision. His detour into that side yard was all but a ruse to get me in front of him so that, once again, he would be able to come up behind me. Upon entering the access road, about 80-100 yards in, he made his move; quickly closing the gap between us and before I knew it, with only a glimpse of him in my peripheral vision, he was upon me full on! Hands on my shoulders with a grunting sound that was both ominous and vulgar that I wonder if , indeed, I heard it at all.
The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. After I accomplished my 'Ali' move I demanded that he step away and back off with all the vulgar cursing I could muster; but, still, he made no move to back off or even to acknowledge that he heard or understood me. Just continued to stare at me with that blank look on his face, as if he were still trying to measure me up and weigh his options. Thoroughly accessing my vulnerability or my determination. Either way I prayed he would realize I wasn't going to go down quickly or easily.
I must say had I had my trusty '9' he would've already been laid out on the pavement for not moving fast enough. Just like Carl (TWD) did with that young hunter he came upon in the woods when he asked him to drop his shotgun. I would think if you're given a command with a barrel pointing point-blank into your face you'd follow it, and follow it quickly; or suffer the consequences for your lack of NOT having the 'upper hand'.
In the end the wave of adrenaline is probably the most trying. As if coming off a high the waves of emotions that follow it are undeniably very remarkable. From sadness to loathing, confusion to comprehension, and from fear to rage! I survived my dilemma and feel stronger, as oppose to weaker. For now I know that I have it in me, with regards to fight or flight, to stand my ground and pull that trigger when the time comes. When my back is up against the wall and I have to ask myself the ultimate question, 'who's it gonna be - me or you' I can now say, with some assurance, that I'd choose the latter.
So many, especially women, have let themselves become victims for whatever reason; but, I say to them, dig deeper inside and find that monster in you that you will need to fight the monster that is before you and make a difference for yourselves.
Husbands, boyfriends, loyalists to the Arms heed my warnings and teach your significant others to take aim and FIRE! ....Leave the explaining to the lawyers.
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