He had been stalking me for almost four months now. My whole life had been
turned upside down. I slept all day, fearing the nights. I had my phone number
changed so many times it was ridiculous. My own mother couldn't keep track of
me. It started innocently. Met him through a friend. At some stupid country
western bar one cold January night. He said hello and I said hello back. Just
being friendly. I left a few hours later, having only said hello. He wasn't even
in my thoughts. A few days later the first of many calls came. He got my number
from a mutual friend. A girl I really didn't know all that well. He asked me
out. I had to decline, I told him the
truth, I was seeing somebody. He accepted it and wished me well. There was more
I didn't tell him. He was considerably older than I was. I was 20 he was close
to 40. But there was something about him that bothered me. He kind of gave me
the creeps. He had a slight limp and an eyelid that was always half shut that
gave him a very evil appearance. In any case, I dismissed him after the phone
A few days later I returned to my apartment from a day of classes and saw to my
surprise 15 messages on my answering machine. Wow, who has been trying to reach
me? I played them back. First one was from my mother. Next my boyfriend
confirming plans to meet that night. Then the next thirteen calls were all from
him. His name was Jim. Each one he told me that I was his woman. I belonged to
him. We were soulmates. He knew when he first laid his eyes on me. He had to
have me. I will admit at first I felt flattered. Then as the calls went on, I
felt repulsed. Then finally I felt fear. Who was this guy? Why was he doing this
to me? I erased the tape and went to shower. I had suddenly felt very dirty. I
mentioned it to my boyfriend that night, but he told me to dismiss it. Forget
it. The guy was obviously a little off balanced mentally, not to worry, he was
just a harmless nut.
When I returned home there were more messages. And each day after. Every time I
came home there were at least ten to fifteen messages from Jim. Telling me he
loved me. He always left his number telling me to call. After about ten days of
this I grew tired. I didn't want to play anymore. He was intruding on my life
and I was angry about it. So I finally returned his calls. I asked him to stop
calling me. Told him I wasn't interested in him, that I had a boyfriend and that
he needed to leave me alone. He begged me to see him. Just one date and I would
see how we were meant to be together. No. Absolutely not. I had no interest in
him whatsoever. Then he became angry. I was shocked at how quickly he turned. He
went from begging me to go on a date to telling me if he couldn't have me, no
one could. I hung up and took my phone off the hook for the night. That was when
the stalking began.
Where ever I went it seemed I would see him. I'd get on the bus to go to school.
At the next stop he would get on. In panic I would run off the bus and skip
school. Walking in the nearby park, he would be sitting on a bench. He never
approached me, only stared. If looks could have killed, I would have been dead.
Then the calls started again. Telling me I couldn't hide. That he had served in
Vietnam and could track me anywhere. I had my number changed. Within days he
always managed to get the new number. Then one night he
called and told me not to hang up, to hear him out. He was sorry he had been
terrorizing me. He wanted to apologize. Could he come over? I told him no way.
He asked me to open my curtains and look past the courtyard in front of my
building. I did. He was there, on the pay phone at the corner. Staring up at my
window. Something about that really freaked me out. Maybe that he was watching
me in my apartment, where I had previously felt safe, I don't know. But from
that night on I didn't sleep. I reversed my schedule. I would stay up all night
and go to sleep at sunrise. Sleeping until sunset. I refused to tell my parents.
First of all, they were 1200 miles away.
Second, I didn't want to admit I had made a mistake moving so far away. My
boyfriend was out, he didn't believe me, that pissed me off and I started seeing
less and less of him. He couldn't understand why my behavior was becoming so
erratic and irrational.
This went on for long time. I just "dealt" with it. A number of times I would
see Jim. I lived in a security building, but I still didn't feel safe there. I
knew it was just a matter of having someone hold the door open for him and he
could be inside. Then one evening I went out to the store around the corner. As
I walked through the aisle I felt the hair on the back of my neck standing. I
was terrified but didn't know why. I looked around and didn't see anyone except
the cashier. But I couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching me. Finally
something caught my eye, the security mirror in the corner. I looked up and in
the next aisle over was Jim. Staring up at the mirror, watching me with a big
smile on his face. I panicked. I dropped my basket and ran from the store. As I
turned the corner I noticed he was chasing me. I kept running. I got to the
corner and there was some traffic, I stopped and waited. I looked back and he
was closing in on me. I darted out into the street almost getting hit by a car.
He was right behind me. I ran into the large courtyard of my building, fumbling
to find the key. He was about 50 feet behind now. I got to the door and jammed
my key in the lock. I opened the door, he was so close now. I jumped in and was
pulling the door closed when he got there. The lock just clicked as he reached
for the handle. I stepped away from the door as he banged on it. Yelling at me
to let him in. I told him I was going upstairs and calling the police.
When I got upstairs I did call. As I looked out into the courtyard I could see
him walking away. The police came and I told them everything that had happened.
I could tell they thought I was blowing everything out of proportion. He was
probably just my boyfriend and we had a fight. Thanks officers, I am overwhelmed
by your concern. I didn't leave my apartment for close to a week after that. He
kept calling. Now he was threatening me. He was angry I wouldn't talk. How dare
I close the door in his face. Who did I think I was?
It was early June. Thankfully I cannot remember the exact date. I went to the
grocery store and was hurrying to get back to my apartment before nightfall. I
entered my apartment, my hands full carrying a couple of bags of food. I kicked
the door shut behind me and went to the kitchen to put the bags down. I realized
I didn't hear the door shut behind me so I went out to close it. There he was.
In my doorway. Jim. I will never forget him standing there. In camouflage pants
and a black shirt. He walked in and closed the door, locking it. I was backing
up slowly trying to get to the phone. He knew it. He told me not to move. He
pulled from his pants a large knife. It had serrated edges and looked pretty
lethal. To say I was terrified would be an understatement. He came closer and I
started to scream. He grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth. He pressed the
knife to my throat and told me that if I yelled again he would slit it. To be
sure he pulled a bandana from his pocket and gagged me with it. He pushed me
back onto the bed and tied my wrists to the headboard. He used strips of cloth
he obviously had gone to the trouble of precutting. I wondered how long he had
been planning this.
After I was tied down he sat down next to me. He told me how good it could have
been for us. If only I hadn't been such a bitch. He pulled the knife out again
and used it to slice my shirt open and cut my bra off. He held the knife to my
right nipple and poked it. He kept doing it until it became hard; that pleased
him. Then he proceeded to repeat that with the left nipple. Then he stood up and
cut my leggings and underwear off. I was laying naked before him. I was frozen
with fear. I knew what he was going to do and there wasn't a thing I could do to
stop it. He pulled his pants down and off one leg. He went to the end of the bed
and kneeled at my feet. I was holding my legs together as tight as I could,
hoping in some vain effort to deter him.
He grabbed both of my ankles and pulled them apart, spreading me open. He then
tied my left ankle to the bedpost. He got up and went to the kitchen. I heard
him fumbling around, things dropping and then he returned. He had cooking oil
with him. He opened it up and poured some between my legs. Then he reached
between my legs and started to rub it in.
"Oh you're so wet for me." He was fantasizing the oil was me! Oh God, what a
sick bastard, I thought. He probed me until I felt him push a finger
inside me. Then another, then another, until he had four fingers inside me. I
felt the tears rolling down my face. There was some pain, but the humiliation
was the worst.
"You're such a whore. Such a wet cunt you have."
He called me his fuck pig. I had to fight the feeling of nausea that was rising
inside me. Then he pulled his hand out of me and leaned over me. I had my eyes
closed tightly, terrified of what was coming. Then I felt his big ugly cock
between my legs. Pushing at me. I guess despite the oil, it was difficult for
him to enter me. Then all of a sudden he was deep inside me. I could feel his
hot breath on my face. Then he moved his head down and began biting my nipples,
first one than the other, until they were raw. He was moving in and out of me,
fucking me hard and fast. Please God, let it end quickly.
I felt his lips on mine. I could feel the bile in the back of my throat. God,
don't let me throw up, he'll kill me for sure. Then his tongue in my mouth,
licking my tongue and the insides of my mouth. His cock moving in and out of me.
I felt nothing, no pain, no pleasure. I was numb. He must have sensed it because
he stopped. He untied my wrists and then my ankle. He turned me over and lifted
my ass up. I was on my knees now. He grabbed my right wrist and tied it to the
head board. Then he was behind me, his fingers inside me. He fucked me with his
hand for a few minutes then he took them out. He then slid one into my ass. Oh
God, did that hurt. I screamed even with the gag in my mouth. He slapped my ass
hard for yelling.
"Shut up cunt!" I felt the knife again. He was running it up the back of my
thigh. I stopped yelling. Then he took his finger out of my ass. I could feel
him moving closer to me. Then I felt his cock, pressing around my ass. Then in
my pussy. Then back to my ass. He did this a few times, then finally he started
to press it into my ass. It hurt too much now, I was openly sobbing.
"Cry you fuck pig, cry. It didn't have to be like this cunt, you did this to
I was in so much pain as he pushed his cock deep into my ass. Then he started
pumping it, in and out, faster and faster until finally he came. I could feel it
shooting inside my ass. My stomach was in cramps and I had to fight not to let
my ass loose all over him. He collapsed on top of me, forcing me into the bed. I
felt the breath rush out of me. I was having trouble breathing. After what
seemed like hours he got up. He tied my left wrist to the headboard and told me
he'd be back. I could hear water running for a while. The toilet flushing, then
the door opened. He came to the bed. He was fully dressed again. He had his
knife with him. He sat down and leaned over. He whispered in my ear, "I got in
and did this, if you tell anyone, I swear next time I will do it again and
finish up by slitting your pretty white throat. Do you understand fuck pig?"
I nodded yes. He got up, put his knife into his pants and left. It took me a
little while to untie myself, but I did it. I jumped up and locked the door. Now
what do I do? I took a shower; I had to. I felt disgusting. Clean up. For some
reasons those words kept going through my head. Clean up, clean up, clean up. So
I did. Everything. I showered, then cleaned the entire bathroom. Then the bed. I
threw out the sheets and the comforter. Turned the mattress, sprayed it down
with Clorox. The kitchen, cleaned everything. I realized I had been cleaning for
close to six hours. Kind of a long time for a studio apartment. I needed another
shower. When I got out the phone rang. It was Jim.
"I had a nice time with you, I'd like to do it again real soon." Then he hung
up. Oh God. I needed another shower. I realized in the shower I would never be
clean here. I had to leave. I called my mother and told her I was coming home.
"For a visit? When?" I told her no, I was moving back now. She seemed surprised,
of course, but she didn't question me. I knew she knew something was up with me,
had been for a while now, but she didn't know what. Mother sense. I packed
whatever I could fit into my car and left. I left behind the bed, clothes, a
stereo, pictures, a fish tank and so much. But what I tried to leave behind I
didn't. I thought I did, but realize now, the memories were still with me.