ESCAPE

Sam was smoking her last cigarette while looking out over the freeway from her apartment. It always amazed me the amount of traffic in this city, all the lights.
It was almost time for my shift at the bar. I would have to make a stop for more cigarettes on the way. I hadn't lived in this city for very long. When I had made my escape from Indiana, I wanted to get as far away as possible and still be invisible. What better place to escape to than L.A.? A city with a population of almost four million, you're bound to not be noticed. I preferred to be alone. Since I left Indiana, I find it difficult to be around people. It's funny that I end up working at a bar. Mostly people come to a bar to drink, sometimes to forget something, drown their sorrows, celebrate with their friends. Most of the time, the pay no attention the the person behind the bar. Stan, my boss, is a pretty good guy. He doesn't pry too much, so that's good.
As I'm leaving, the phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi, honey, how are you?" my mom answers in a wary voice.
"Fine. How are you?"
"I'm okay. I just wanted to call, I was worried..."
I sigh
"I'm fine, Mom. Look, I was just going to work. Can I call you later?"
"Sure, honey. I'll talk to you later. I Love you."
"Love you, too. Bye"
I quickly hang up the phone before she can say anything else. She worries about me. She doesn't understand why I left so suddenly. That could have something to do with the fact that I never did tell her what happened. Almost all our conversations are the same. She's always worried. I always reassure her everythings fine and then I can't stand it anymore, I make up some excuse to end the call. I've been a very bad daughter, lately. I glance at the clock on my way out the door. I was going to be late. Shit.
It's been a relatively slow evening. Friendly's Bar was sort of off the beaten path, not one of trendy Hollywood bars. We didn't get a lot of new customers, mostly regulars from the neighborhood. I was sitting at the end of the bar with Joe, on my break, having a drink and smoking a cigarette. Joe's one of the regulars, he comes here almost every night. I had just gathered some empty glasses from the end of the bar and was heading to the back. That's when the song came on the Jukebox. It was like someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me. Unconsciously, I let the glasses slip from my hands. They shattered againts the floor in a million pieces, shards of glass flying in all directions. I suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe, I was desperately trying to gasp in air. It was struggle. The room started spinning.
Stan had come out from the back to investigate the sound of the breaking glass. As soon as he saw my face, he knew something wasn't right.
"Sam! Sam - are you okay? Can you hear me?" He was nearly shouting at me.
I was finally able to get my breathing under control.
"I'll be fine, Sam. I just need some air. I'm gonna to step out back."
I hurried out the back and immediately began gulping in the cool night air. The spinning hadn't completely gone. I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to calm down.
That damn song. Of all the songs, someone had to play that one. It had all come crashing back. The entire reason that I escaped Indiana, trying to outrun my demons. I should have known, they alway catch up with you.
Eight months ago I was living in Indiana. I had just graduated from college and was working at the local newspaper in the Advertising department. I was also in a relationship with a man named Steven, we lived together. We loved each other and were planning to get married. I was happy. One night, Steven was working late, so I was home alone. I was listening to some music while I got caught up on some work around the house. I was just getting ready to put another load of laundry in the washer when there was a knock at the door. It was Steven's brother Justin. We all hung out sometimes; me, Steven, Justin and his girlfriend, Trish. Usually we would go to the bar, have some drinks, shoot some pool or something on Friday nights. Since Steven wasn't home, I invited him to hang out for a while.
We were sitting on the couch, just talking, he leaned over and tried to kiss me. I quickly pulled away from him.
"Oh my God, Justin! What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
"What?" he said "Don't pretend like you're not attracted to me. I've seen the way you look at me."
I rolled my eyes, "You're delusional. Hello! I'm in a relationship with your brother!"
He leaned in again to kiss me, I went to shove him away, but he grabbed my wrist and with his other hand he grabbed a fist full of my hair.
"Let me go, Justin!"
He was angry, he wouldn't losen his hold on me. I continued to struggle, but it just seemed to make him angrier. He let go of my hair and hit me. He forced me back onto the couch and started kissing me, touching me. If I tried to fight him at all, he would hit me again. He raped me. It was like I an out of body experience, like I had floated up outside of myself and was watching it from afar. He kept saying my name and 'I love you'. I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I didn't even cry. Not then. When he finished he said he had to go, but that he would see me later. He got up, got dressed, and left, like it was all normal.
I fell apart after he was gone. I started shaking and crying. I couldn't move from the floor, I was so paralyzed by fear. I finally got it together enought to get up and take a shower. I had to get the smell of him off me. I felt disgusting. I hated myself. I felt like maybe I had done something to lead him on. I also hated that I felt so weak and couldn't protect myself, like I had allowed it to happen. Luckily he hadn't hit me too hard, hadn't left any marks.
Later, when Steven came home, he could see something was wrong with me. I just told him I was sick. I couldn't bring myself to tell him what happened. I was afraid he'd blame me, or worse, wouldn't believe me. My secret finally drove a wedge between us. I couldn't bear for him to touch me, just the thought, or anyone, touching me made me physically ill. Finally, he told me that it just wasn't working. We went our seperate ways. I couldn't stay there anymore. I had to escape. I packed up and came here.
When I got home that night from my shift, I was still thinking about what happened. I decided that maybe it was time I confronted what had happened to me, trying to pretend like it never happened was, clearly, not working. Realizing this, I knew what I needed to do. I walked to the phone and called my mom to have a conversation that should have been had many months before.



This is a work of fiction. © 2008 S. L. S.