Madeleine.

I can still remember the night it happened. I was nineteen and incredibly insecure. It was a damp night in April, the streets were glossy like a magazine and the moon gave the city a dim yellow glow. My headphones were plugged into my ears, some indie band was filling the space between my thoughts. I was walking home from my brother's. He caught his boyfriend of two years sucking off some guy so we shared a bottle of wine and cried when Holly Golightly got rid of Cat. There was something about the Mean Reds that always stuck with me.
It was getting late and all the busses had stopped running. I didn't want to waste money on a cab so I decided to walk home. I'm not sure if it was the wine or my tangled thoughts that put me in a daze but I chose to take a short cut home, which was through a dark alley way that led to a quiet path along the river. It all sounds so cliched, I know, but maybe that's just how it always happens. Young girl who thinks she's invincible, dark alley, careless decisions. I was too caught up in myself that I didn't even notice that someone had been following me for three blocks.
It wasn't until I was half way down the alley that I felt like someone was watching me. It's true when they say, "Follow your gut instinct", because that is where I felt it; in the pit of my stomach. Something bad was about to happen.
I was too scared to look behind me so I started to walk a little faster. I didn't want to make it obvious that I knew I was being followed. My heart was racing at this point and even though it was chilly outside I began to feel really hot. My cheeks were burning, my palms sweating. I thought my legs were going to give out on me. Why, why, why had I chosen to go this way?
I wasn't too far from the end of the alley when the footsteps got louder. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a dark figure behind me. I began to run, as did my follower.
He caught up to me quickly, grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He was strong, about a foot taller than myself. He smelled like booze and piss and his face was covered in scars and dirt. I struggled to get out of his grasp, which made his grip tighter. I punched and kicked and flailed around like a fish out of water. He flung me against the side of a cold, brick building. I lost my breath and gasped for air as he grabbed at my body. His hands were rough and dry around my neck. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. He grabbed tightly on my breasts and I squirmed and kicked at his legs. It was as if he was made of steel. He slammed me into the wall again, this time bashing my head. All of a sudden I felt nauseous. His fingers made their way to the button on my jeans. He unzipped me, then his own dirty jeans. He shoved his sandpaper hands inside of me and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started to throw up all over him. All over me. He threw me to the ground and I tried to crawl away. He grabbed my legs and pulled me closer towards him. He shoved my face into the wet ground, dirt water was filling up my mouth as he shoved his dirty, filthy cock into me. This is when I gave up. I didn't move, I didn't scream. I'm not even sure I cried. My face was wet, but I don't know if it was from my tears.
It didn't last long. He was quick and thrustful and he didn't make a sound. When he was finished he cried out, "Why Sarah? Why did you have to leave?" and he started to sob. That was the first and only thing he said. He got up off me and I laid still as he pulled up his pants. He stood above me for a few seconds then started to turn away and walk back into the darkness.
I waited until I couldn't hear his heavy footsteps anymore. I peeled myself off the ground. I was covered in blood, mud, and cum. I threw up again.
I walked what seemed a mile to the end of the alley way. The street lights shone so brightly and I could feel my eyes filling up with tears. As I headed towards the street I heard a loud bang. I looked over my shoulder and no longer saw the dark figure.

"That is all the time we have for today." Dr. Thompson said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes.
"Thank you Dr. Same time next week, right?", I smiled weakly at him as I picked up my purse. Dr. Thompson headed to his desk and opened a drawer full of medication. He handed me a bottle of Xanax.
"You know, Madeleine, none of this is your fault." He looked directly in my eyes as I took the pills out of his hand. I nodded and headed towards the door. As I stepped outside I put on my sunglasses and smiled to myself.
"Fucker", I thought, "he'll believe every story I tell him", and I walked down the street with another free bottle of drugs in my purse.