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This was intended to be posted on 5/12/2013.
Explicit content: Rape, assault, attempted suicide.

I could only wonder why I was standing amongst a group of strangers as they danced and moved around in a narrow hall of black with what appeared to be a fireplace carved into the wall itself along my very left. The fire that bobbed and licked out at the various men gave a dim light to the hall, but the blackness appeared to engulf it into nothing. Something about this disturbed me and that sensation only intensified as the men advanced further down the hall and only one remained ahead of me. There was a familiarity to the man that I could not place, a feeling that I had seen him somewhere before and yet the memory was just a hair’s length away from my grasp. I was still deeply unsettled and I wanted nothing more than to be away from him.

He gave me no opportunity to move, however. Although the man was surely in his early sixties and his body appeared to be in no shape to move as suddenly as he did, he pounced on me as I uttered a terrified shriek. Then there came a gripping sensation around my neck, a secure, solid latch of an object intended for suffocation. Was I to die so simply and suddenly? In a hallway so foreign and by the hands of a stranger? But I was still able to breathe yet only slightly, just enough to gasp and choke; my breathing labored and desperate. He uttered sweetly towards me, his voice dripping with niceties and compliments to my labored breaths and pained writhing. The force of his initial assault had knocked me backward, which bounced my skull off the hard floor.

I struggled with the device around my throat, my fingers prying against a sleek surface but the edge dug into my skin, which had no give. Not unless I intended to dig into my flesh first and peel it away. My efforts to peel it away ceased as I tried to turn over and run away but a solid fist to chest stopped me in my place. I choked out a sob and scrambled to hold my chest and huddle into a protective ball. He stopped me yet again. Hands grabbing, the sound of duct tape. My arms outstretched, wrists and arms pinned down, and my legs followed soon after. I sobbed, pleading to be released, but I could not scream. The choking device prevented me from crying out.

I felt the edge of the knife before I saw it. He cut away my clothes with a slow, deliberate manner as he smiled sweetly down at me. The fire’s light danced across the lenses of his glasses, hiding the look of his eyes. I couldn’t look at him, I turned my head away. Soon enough, my clothes were gone.

He committed the deed he intended to do and then some.

During the act, the tape became loose enough that I managed to rip my hands free. I reached out and willed a knife of my own to my hands and cut away my binds and stood, holding the weapon toward him. The hallway melted away and the fire faded into nothingness. The man and I stood in a vastness of white. Nothing above and nothing below. He showed no fear, no remorse, and even the glee he had just moments earlier was no longer present on his features. He merely asked, “What happens now?”

My body was racked with pain. My vision blurred, distorted with pain and nausea, my throat and lungs burned from the choked off sobs and I struggled not to vomit or lose my balance. In that moment, I was a child again. The whiteness of the world began to tunnel away into blackness. I took the knife and deliberately dragged the edge across my left arm. I bled. I brought the knife back to my skin and repeated the process again and again and again.

I woke up.