Group Post: The Door Shut

By Britni TheVadgeWig | Published: July 15, 2009

The door shut behind me and I turned to see who had followed me into the bedroom. He was standing there, stony faced, looking at me with such anger and hate in his eyes that I felt a shiver go down my spine. His eyes had turned black and glassy, and I’d never seen a more frightening look in someone’s eyes than I saw in his at that moment. There no longer seemed to be a human soul occupying this body; it had become a vessel for something sinister and evil. My heart was caught in my throat and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but I sensed that it was nothing good. He stood in the doorway, large and strong and angry. I cowered towards the closet, small and weak and scared.

He lunged at me from the doorway without warning, and before I had time to even contemplate any options for escape, I was thrown onto the bed like a rag doll. My mind was racing with so many thoughts that they all became a blur, a seemingly endless cacophony of foreign sounding phonemes and neologisms and jibberish. My hands were pinned above my head and he was above me. I tried to wriggle my way free but he just laughed and growled, low and threatening, into my ear. “Where is your boyfriend to save you now, bitch?”

My mind flashed back to the night before. My roommates and I had people over for drinks. He was someone we all knew. A friend of a friend. I had gone into the bathroom and he had followed me in. He tried to kiss me and I stopped him, saying, “My boyfriend is in the other room and I don’t think he would appreciate if I was in here kissing another guy.” He turned and left without saying a word.

My mind returned to the present, and that’s when I became aware of the voices on the other side of my bedroom door. We had friends over again tonight. There was an apartment full of people just on the other side of that door. Surely someone would notice that I was missing? I shared my bedroom with another girl. Maybe she would need to come get something from the room? If I screamed would they be able to hear me over the music and the laughter?

Again, I tried to break free from the grasp of this man that was easily twice my size and again I failed. He slapped my face, hard, and told me to lay still. It was at that point that I stopped fighting, resigned to the realization that I wouldn’t be able to stop whatever he had planned for me. It’s funny, because when you think about all the things that you would do if someone was trying to rape you, your mind comes up with all these brave, strong, heroic scenarios. Of course you would fight! Of course you would resist! Of course you would scream! But you’ll never truly know how you will react once it actually happens to you.

Me? I shut down. I stopped moving. I could no longer hear anything– not the noise in my apartment, not his labored breathing, not my own thoughts. Nothing. I don’t remember seeing anything– not the ceiling, not his face, not the room. Blankness. I could feel things, but they were very muted sensations. I was aware of his hand holding my wrists above my head, but I couldn’t tell you how tightly he held them. I was aware of his other hand being shoved up my dress and under my panties, but I can’t tell you how many fingers he used or how he moved them.

And then suddenly I was jarred back from my dissociated state by the opening of the bedroom door. The silence turned loud, the whiteness turned bright, the sensations became entirely perceptible. The reality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. As quickly and wordlessly as he had mounted me, he retreated and walked back into the party. I looked up to see who had saved me from impending rape and met the eyes of my ex-boyfriend.

It was then, looking into the confused, worried, softened eyes of this person that cared for me that I began to cry. The door closed behind him, but this time it wasn’t a scary, ominous sound when it clicked shut. It was a safe, relieved, and grateful sound. I’m not sure if he ever really knew what he witnessed or what he interrupted, but he never asked. Instead, he crawled into bed with me and held me while I cried. He stayed with me that night and we slept, fully clothed, in the bed that had just hours before been the scene of something awful.

And in the morning he left, and once again the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with nothing but the memory of being sexually assaulted by someone I knew in an apartment full of all my friends.

________________________________________

This was a group post. If you’d like to play next month, email Kimberly at polly_amorous at hotmail dot com and she’ll add you to the list! Go check out the others that played along this time:

Kimberly
Duchess
Hubman
Sheba
Ms Scarlett
Veronica
Enchanted Mistress
Petal
Aurore
Topaz
Ronjazz
Autumn
Library Vixen
Eden’s Dragon
Submissively Me
Danimo
Lolita

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13 Comments

ED

Posted July 15, 2009 at 12:21 am | Permalink

Yikes. That sounds like an awful experience that I will never be able to fully comprehend. You are a tougher person than I.

I was going to say something lewd about your comment to one of my pics but I think I will pass…and I couldn't get your email to work…

Kimberly

Posted July 15, 2009 at 7:43 am | Permalink

What an intense and frightening post. Thank you for sharing it with us. It takes real courage to share harsh reality – kudos.

Barefoot Dreamer

Posted July 15, 2009 at 8:00 am | Permalink

oh girl I have been there. I have been the person laying under the weight you couldn't shed if you doubled your strength. I have been the person who just shut down and closed off the world. I have been the person that looked at bruises for over a week or two and tried not to cry because that would have made it all the more real. I have been the person who didn't report it because it wouldn't have been worth the "my word against his" effort.

However, I have also been the person on another occasion that found the strength, that pushed the 250 pound football player off me, leading to me being the person running down the street half clothed in a narrow escape, furious and crying at the same time. One who looked at those bruises differently -knowing things would be different now.

From all of this I became the person that I am.

I hear you, I relate.

Ronjazz

Posted July 15, 2009 at 8:21 am | Permalink

Oh my goodness…well, honey, I can't talk dirty to you right now. I'm too caught up in the afterglow of this painful story you share. No one…NO ONE should have to experience such pain.

All I want to do now is to talk to you. Sexy as you are, it seems more…productive, if that's a good word. Even if this was fiction…it's too, too real.

Gray

Posted July 15, 2009 at 9:43 am | Permalink

I am so sorry hun, what an awful experience. *hugs*

Topaz

Posted July 15, 2009 at 10:04 am | Permalink

As Ron says, I don't know whether or not this is fiction, or to what degree of fiction it is, but it is powerful, and you do convey the paralysis that can take hold, and the door closing to create an area of comfort and relief is what makes this story (for me). I appreciate you sharing this with us.

Bri

Posted July 15, 2009 at 10:07 am | Permalink

Wonderfully written post even though it is a heartwrenching, terrifying, and painful subject/experience…. ((Hugs))…

Petal

Posted July 15, 2009 at 3:57 pm | Permalink

I could not imagine what it would be like to go through a terrifying experience like that, thank you for sharing. Hugs.

Hubman

Posted July 15, 2009 at 5:34 pm | Permalink

That was truly terrifying to read. You are one strong woman to share such an experience with us…

{{ d a n i m o }}

Posted July 15, 2009 at 7:23 pm | Permalink

i remember the way sensations fade into nothingness and the dissociation becomes the only thing that's real. i've been remembering and i don't like it, but then again i never really took the time to look into it, to stare the evil right in the face so i'd no longer be its bitch, so i could truly move on.

i love you, girl, and i hope you know that there are so many people in this world who are certain that you don't deserve the crap — no, that's not a vile enough world, the assault — that some of the men in your life have thrown your way. as before, just say the word if you wanna talk to someone who's far enough away from this situation and won't judge you. ♥

Haute Chocolat

Posted July 15, 2009 at 7:56 pm | Permalink

WOW. Thank you for sharing. I commend you for your courage.

The Duchess

Posted July 15, 2009 at 7:57 pm | Permalink

Wow, honey if this is true I'm so glad that it ended up being OK. (Although who knows about the aftermath…)
Big hugs and love to you…

Enchanted Mistress

Posted July 15, 2009 at 10:34 pm | Permalink

Oh sweetie you poor thing. Not too many women can openly admit this experience and you a very strong willed. Thank you for sharing this..((hugs))

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