Exposure

The fight or flight response refers to a physiological reaction that occurs in the presence of something that is, mentally or physically, terrifying.

Up until this moment, the loss of my father was the most earth shattering event to date. Death crept up on us and managed to slam the door on his life, leaving me and my mom with nothing but hurt and heartache. I recall the nights I laid awake crying, pleading for it to be a terrible nightmare. But once the sun awoke, I knew this life without him was my new reality. At that moment, I thought nothing could compare to the hurt of my loss and the fear of a future absent of him. I was wrong.

Dark, sleeping apartment buildings littered the space in front of me. Their empty windows stared back as they watched like a jury witnessing the plea of their defendant. The pressure against my temple sent strings of throbbing pain as the cold, rigid metal threatened my life. Tears burned as they swept down my cheeks, fearing for the worst. I didn’t want to die.

This emotion I felt was like no other I ever experienced. My stomach tied itself in knots while my teeth clung together as if someone clamped them shut. Death whispered my name, coaxing me closer to his cold confines. He wanted me with him, but I yearned to walk with the living.

Only a few hours ago, laughter and the sound of snapshots filled my boyfriend's apartment as he packed up the last of the Halloween decorations until next year. His heart melting smile and piercing blue eyes reminded me how lucky I was to have him with me during this time of loss and mourning. If I had know I would be caught in a tornado of torture and abuse, I would have stayed a bit longer or enjoyed the moment a little more. Life shouldn't be taken for granted, but as I laid on the ground with my attacker inches away, regret laden me.

The man, clad in a black, three-piece suit, wore a white faceless mask as he hovered over. It haunted me as my eyes met an object void of any emotion. No trace of sympathy or remorse bled through the white material, making my blood run cold. His hand was steady as he held the weapon against me, like a veteran killer on a battlefield.

Hollow of any emotions, the man looked like a monster. His tall, eerie form gripped my neck with spider-like fingers. His suit was almost too perfect for a crime. In the pitch darkness of night, the man loomed over my small frame, dwindling the air supply to my lungs. My cries smothered out. Even if someone happened to walk by, he made it impossible for me to do anything. The cadence of my heart reached my ears, thundering with every measure. I felt helpless as fear consumed me and gnawed at my insides. I couldn’t breathe - couldn’t move. It was like I became part of the darkness, consumed and never seen except by darkness itself.

“Hand over the bag,” the monster said with a low, almost demonic voice. It pierced my spine like pins. My legs turned to lead as my arms forgot how to move. I was at his mercy and with one look, I knew he had none.

He shoved his gun hard and slammed my head against my car. I gagged as the hand around me tightened, closing the pathway to my lungs.

“Give it to me, Erin!” the attacker boomed, followed by the click of his gun. “Give it up!”

Instincts kicked in and my hand shot to his around my throat, clawing my way out. His grip didn’t falter even after the tear of skin and the drip of blood. I expected him to howl in pain or hiss in anger, but as he loomed over me, unaffected. Lungs screamed for mercy and the sweet taste of air, but my killer gazed at me like a test subject. His head tilted one way and the other, watching as the color drained from my skin. White turned to red while pressure built up behind my eyes. Red spots littered my vision while my limbs felt like bags of sand. I felt so weak.

On many occasions, entertainment outlets like television and movies convince us of the glamour of death. White lights, images of past memories, even a sense of calm. For a long time, I believed dying wasn’t something to fear and the idea of reuniting with my father made death seem so serene. It was a soft blow to the harsh permanence.

But it was all bullshit. My body collapsed as my vision dimmed until all the light ceased to exist. Everything felt cold and empty. I waited to see one last flash of memories, my friends, my mom, my life, but only met with disappointment. It wasn’t long before disappointment evolved into panic.

In death, I had nothing. No light, no warmth, not even an outstretched hand. This was death in its truest form, not some fairy tale.

As my life grew dim, the monster above me let out a menacing growl. My body jolted with the new sweet supply of air. Rough and strangled coughs torn through my throat as I laid on the ground wondering why I was still alive.

The man mumbled under his breath incoherent words. He soon bent down to snatch my bag up, rummaging through its contents before smashing it to the ground. I watched, horrified, as the shatter of my camera met my ears. The only heirloom of my father destroyed along with his memories. The two of us trained our gaze to the brown bag holding pieces of my heart.

Memories of my father rushed over me, his warm embrace, the smell of pine, the click of his camera. After being a Sedona police officer for twelve years, dad wanted to keep the beauty of life despite his run in with liars and slanderers. He couldn’t accept the evil of this world, but as I watched pieces of his passion roll from the confines of my bag, I knew the image of his worldview was shattered within me.

As if remembering I was there, the man snapped his faceless head towards me. Any previous caution wiped away as I belted out a screech of hysteria as he snatched my hair and yanked me towards him. For the first time, the monster’s body language changed from calm and composed to panicked. His hand fell on my lips, silencing my screams as he scouted the area for onlookers.

This was my chance. I clamped down on his hand. My teeth broke through the weak layer of skin and let an onslaught of blood into my mouth. Its metallic taste made bile rise, but I forced myself to keep it down. The tearing of flesh met my ears as he yanked his arm back from me. The mass of skin tissue pulsed in my mouth making me nauseous.

Curses spilled from his lips as pride wandered into my head. I rid my mouth of the mass, spitting and wiping away any trace. Under the white material, I could see his face contorted with rage and I found a sudden surge of satisfaction in the midst of this chaos.

Like lightning, the gun struck my head with a sickening snap at contact. I fell back against the pavement, feeling my head crack against it. My vision blurred; black lining the edge. Every ounce of fight left my body as my head throbbed from the blow. I attempted to crawl away at my last attempt to escape but soon felt my stomach convulse with the impact of his boot. Breathing became impossible as pain consumed me and with one inhale of air, my stomach lurched forward, spilling its contents.

Within seconds, my body began to shut down. Everything hurt and I had no strength to even scream. This was the end. I awaited the sound of his gun, knowing my actions had consequences, but stopped cold when I heard something entirely different. The sound of metal against metal met my ears, making my eyes grow in realization. The faint sound of rustling fabric sent vicious surges of panic through me.

With pain in every movement, I turned my head to my attacker only to see his pants around his ankles. Everything felt cold and void of color as the man reached down and yanked my body closer to his. I begged for him to stop his torture. Despite my efforts, he inched my jeans around my knees, making sure I felt what was to come. The rough material rested at my ankles while his hands ventured over my legs, mapping the territory. Sobs and pleas fell from my lips, but it only fueled his desire. He yearned for me.

The monster looked down at my fragile form on the ground, wounded and broken, and grinned. Tired of my cries, he shoved my head into the puddle of liquids I expelled moments ago, shutting me up. The smell of acid and decomposed foods bombarded my senses, only forcing more out. My body felt weak and dehydrated as if I had been wandering the desert for weeks. I couldn’t take much more of the beatings and abuse.

Prayers spilled from my lips, hoping for my savior to pull me from this nightmare. Like an answer to my silent words, his burning presence on my skin vanished. My inhale of air quickly transformed into a cry as relief washed over me. Happiness for a soothing breath of air and grief from the attack swirled around until I could barely decipher the two from one another, but it was over.

With shaking limbs, I sat up in search of a phone only to slammed back down. Anger built up with his mind games. He eased me into a sense of peace, only to rip it away once more.

“No!” I screamed, using the last of my energy. I thrashed my legs and swung my arms with all the weight I could muster. I wasn’t only doing this for me, but I was surviving for my loved ones. The faces of my family and friends overruled my mind and I couldn’t lay here and let this happen.

As the man leaned over to restrain me, I jerked my head forward, colliding with his. My head pounded from impact and the injury from earlier, but I continued on through the pain. The man clutched his head, dazed from the impact. A string of profanities left his lips as rage consumed him. This was the opening I needed!

Run!

Making quick work of my jeans, I ran towards the closest building in sight. My legs felt weak from repeated beatings, but I forced my body to keep running. Fear raged inside, but I needed to escape. Thoughts of my mother losing someone else hurt more than any physical pain. Nights of lonely cries and forced smiles pushed me to take another step. I couldn’t be another victim. I wouldn’t accept that.

Seeing a place to rest and hide, I slipped into the dark alley and found shelter behind stacked wooden slabs. I bit the inside of my cheek, willing my breathing to even out and for my heart to beat softer. My nails dug into my palms, still feeling traces of his hands on my skin. Why was this happening? Why me?

My mind reeled to find any rhyme or reason for his onslaught of torture, but only came to the conclusion to fight for my life. What would my father do?

The scene of shattered glass and warped metal fell in my mind as a painful reminder of the fate of my father's camera. My heart squeezed and tears spilled with the loss of his reminiscence. So many questions bounced around in my mind, but panic wouldn't let me hang on to a single one. My mind was beginning to shatter and I couldn't piece back the pieces fast enough.

Without realizing, blood gushed in my mouth followed by the sting of teeth breaking flesh. The smell and taste of blood from his injury emerged from my consciousness, making my stomach churn once more. Panic rushed through my bones as I rubbed my tongue raw, trying to erase the taste of blood. My eyes stung with a fresh set of tears, feeling broken. I wanted this nightmare to end.

An echoing crash ripped my attention to the alley to scan the area. Staring through the rectangular slants, trash and over-flowed trash cans littered the alley. A single street lamp hovered over dauntingly, the only audience to the show. An involuntary chill racked my body.

In horror, a hand pierced through the opening of the wooden pallets, ripping a scream from my throat. My back scraped against brick as I avoided its grasp by inches. Without direction or a plan, I sprinted away from my hiding place as he struggled to get his hand back from the wood.

I looked around and down the alley, seeing a cluster of cars on the street before the entrance of the woods. If I ran fast enough, I could disappear and hide out until morning. The idea of failing entered my mind, but I shoved it away. The consequences of getting caught was death, but I exhausted all my options.

This is my last chance. I ran towards the woods, adrenaline pushing me faster than ever before. His frantic footsteps slammed against asphalt close behind me. It was only a matter of time before this was all over.

Don’t look back, I chanted. But like a naive victim, I glanced back. The silhouette of the tall, white demon met my eyes and horror overruled all emotion. His break-neck speed and his long arms swinging at his side made me falter in fear. My foot slammed on an unsuspecting curb, bringing me down like a wet rag. Flesh hit concrete, most likely scraping my knee. I cursed, shedding tears of frustration and terror as the sound of footsteps slowed to a stop before me.

I dared to meet his gaze, trailing up to his face. His demeanor changed within seconds; his shoulder square, his back straight; gun raised. He shook his head as he stood over me like before, pulling back the hammer with a distinctive click. I stared at the barrel in horror, my last seconds of life coming to an end. Closing my eyes, I said my silent goodbyes to my loved ones before a deafening noise pierced the silent cluster of apartments. Then everything went black.

“Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it.”

Mark Twain