I had a two-hour layover on the bus in San Francisco, so I was sitting around. There weren’t very many people there. It was early afternoon. A guy came up to me and asked for a smoke. He had long brown curly hair and was short–my height–and slender. I gave him one, and he sat down and started talking.
SEE ALL PRIOR PARTS BELOW ⤵︎
Eventually, he asked me if I wanted to get high and go to his apartment since I had a layover. Being stupid and naive back then, I decided to go with him. At the time I did not realize the danger I could be putting myself in. I don’t recall his name. He had long blonde hair and looked like a hippie. We got to his apartment which was a ten-minute walk from the station. He pointed to a picture on his dresser that was of Patty Hearst. He told me he helped hide her. Keep in mind this was back in 1976.
The apartment was a studio with a bed, dresser, small fridge, and microwave. There were no chairs, so I sat on the edge of the bed feeling uncomfortable. He proceeded to take a handgun out of his dresser drawer and swing it around. He was staring at me. I knew when I saw the gun and picture I was in for some trouble. I thought to myself how are you going to get out of this mess? And not knowing if I would ever get out of there. I did what I only knew to do. He was a man. He wanted sex. So, I pretended to be attracted to him and was very suggestive to him that I was more than willing to participate. This appeased him as he lay down the pistol. All the while I’m blocking him out of my mind, the act of the violation of my body, and wondering to myself will I ever get out of here alive?
As he had his way with me, I kept reminding him of the time. How people at home would be expecting me. They would be there waiting for me. I had to get back to the bus station. After about a half-hour, he said let’s go. When we left his room, five other guys came out of different rooms and walked with us. I never felt so scared in my life.
I got on that bus on time and never looked back, thanking God that I got away. My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly catch my breath. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Things could have gotten so much worse. The thought of it made me cringe and feel like vomiting all over that bus. I realized it could have been a gang rape with not just one man waving a gun wanting sex from me. To this day, I can’t remember his name, nor do I care to. I had long blocked it out of my mind until the writing of this memoir. It seemed an important event to mention in my already messed up life and the unbelievable control men had over my life.
Once again, I found myself wondering if it was my fault somehow, did I deserve this too? Was I destined to have these run-ins all my life with the abuse of men? Was I only good for sex?
What about me, the person inside, that little girl wanting to be loved, what about her? Would she ever know peace?
When I arrived back home, I never told anyone what happened, not even my best friend at the time. Certainly not my parents. Somehow, I felt a little wiser from it all. Things hadn’t changed much when I got back home. Tom was still in Okinawa, and I was still alone. I started to live at my parents’ trailer, on their acreage at the farm. I wasn’t going back to that motorcycle gang; I was staying clear away from them. I was taking a break from men and feeling like I was loved. Tired of the race and the abuse. Tired of lies and deceit. I was plain tired of my life in general.
Thanks Laura I’ve been through quite a bit. But I am a survivor no longer a victim. I just feel my story needs to be told in hopes it might help someone else find their voice.
Thank so much for reading and commenting
Wow. So raw, candid, and real. I feel the fear with you in that situation…a man with a gun is a very terrifying thing. You did what you had to do to stay alive. These journeys of our lives as women-that begin with childhood abuse. Ah, my greatest wish is for the root of violence to be uprooted so children could be nurtured, loved in healthy ways-that adults did their healing work, that each of us as best we can Now-find our way to healing, self-love, worth, acceptance and not repeat the patterns of long ago-of our ancestors-that a new way gets forged. I honor your vulnerable and honest writing about hard things. Too many women and young girls endure the unendurable. Thank you for continuing to share candidly and poignantly.
Thanks so much Lynn yes I am at peace with myself today and I have a strong faith in God. I know he has shown Devine intervention in my life and thinks could have been worse. Thanks for reading and commenting on my story. If you are nnterested in catching up on the story just cluck on my profile and all the parts will be accessible
Wow Eva Marie, what a little piece of your life that you have shared. Since I am guilty of not responding much to the articles on Bizcatalyst, there are times that I do. I believe some of those times are the Holy Spirit placing on my heart the feeling to respond through either my own experience, which comes close to yours, or to let you know that I am hoping you are at peace. I can relate to so much of what you experienced but through my journey with my faith, I have come to love myself, knowing that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me as the little girl He created. I will keep you in my prayers for sure. Thank you for sharing a little piece of you!