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The Nightmare Of Reality

Smrithi Senthilnathan

    A breeze of cold air slammed me in the face as I unlocked the door of my apartment. The window in the hall had been left open.
    Great. Now the entire apartment would be cold and full of mosquitoes.
    I’d had a long, tiring day at work and I’d been hoping to come home and relax with a nice movie, a steaming cup of coffee, and a cozy blanket. Instead, I’d be shivering with itchy skin.
    I went to the window and shut it, the handle cold to the touch. Shivering, I turned back to the room and connected a mosquito repellent. Hopefully, the mosquitos would go. Maybe I could still salvage a cozy evening.
    After making myself a cup of coffee, I retreated to the living room, put on one of my favorite action movies, and settled on the couch.
    About ten minutes into the movie, a crash sounded throughout the house.
    I paused the movie.
    Silence.
    I stood up, looking around the house. Empty.
    Maybe it had come from the television. Or my tired, delusional brain was playing tricks on me.
    I pressed play, the sounds of the footsteps of the lead actor as he wandered through an empty corridor filling my house. I went to keep my coffee cup on the table.
    A hand came around my throat.
    A gag was shoved into me, sweat and rot mingling in my mouth.
    I screamed but the gag muffled it.
    The hand clamped around my throat harder, the grip squeezing so hard I almost choked. I clawed desperately to get it off but it was in vain.
    “Be a good girl, won’t you sweetheart?” my captor purred, his raspy breath on my neck.
    I froze.
    That voice. I knew that voice.
    “That’s the spirit. If you don’t resist, we can make this very easy. It will be fun for you, even. Our problem arises when you don’t cooperate.”
    No no no. This could not be happening. Not after everything I’d done to forget the first time. The alarm system, the camera I’d set up, the security guards stationed outside the building... had he managed to evade everything?
    He moved closer, his body pressing against mine. One hand came around my waist, his rough hands crawling on my skin.
    “Yes, yes that’s good. Oh yes,” he moaned into my ear.
    I wanted to bolt out of there. To run from the world and never have to be in this situation again. But any movement and he would overpower me. The first time had told me that, all too well.
    So I stood still, not daring to move. Hopefully if I cooperated, this wouldn’t be as hard as the last time.
    “Shall we, my love?” he said.
    I didn’t dare to breathe.
    His hand pulled down my zipper.
    He crushed his body to mine.
    And that was when I knew.
    I would never be free of this.
    I screamed.

#

    I wake up with a start, my heart racing and my head pounding. My eyes pace around the room frantically. Clambering out of bed, I switch on the light.
    The house is empty.
    I lay my head against the wall. It was just a dream. A nightmare, but not real.
    And yet, even in dreams I could never be free of him. Wherever I went, he’d always follow me. He’d ensured that his actions would never truly leave me; I could never ever forget the incident, no matter what I tried.
    Why did I have to live like this? Why was I constantly plagued by the fear of him returning, or another man trying to take advantage of this young girl living alone?
    All my friends and family had tried to reassure me that it would be fine, that I was stronger now and knew how to better take care of myself, that I was mature enough not to let any predatory men into my life.
    But they didn’t really understand, did they? They didn’t understand that I could never ever look at another man the same way ever again.
    Not all men, they say. Not all men have malicious intentions or are out to hurt me. Not all men try to get close to me to abuse me later.
    But there are enough men that I no longer walk alone at night. No longer listen to music while walking. No longer let myself be alone in the company of men. No longer take taxis. No longer go on blind dates.
    Instead, I stay at home with a licensed pistol. Read the stories of the hundreds, thousands, millions of women abused everyday. Go to work in my own car with tinted black windows. Only have two friends and both are women. Carry pepper spray wherever I go.
    Do I deserve to live this life, constantly in fear?
    Society dictates men have to constantly be in control. No matter how many advancements women make in the field of science, technology, politics and other spheres of life, men must always have the upper hand. The patriarchy will always reign supreme, and women do nothing but succumb to their demands.
    I call my best friend who lives a couple blocks down the road. “Hey. Are you awake?”
    “Barely,” she replies groggily. “What’s up?”
    “Could you come over here and stay the night?”
    “Be there in five,” she says and cuts the line.
    She doesn’t ask why.
    Of course she doesn’t.
    She knows. They all do. When a woman calls you to give her company, you don’t question it.
    Because you’ve experienced the same fear she has.
    Every woman on this planet has experienced the same fear I have.
    And more than half of them have been in the situation that I was in. Or maybe even worse.
    When she arrives, I collapse into her arms, a sobbing mess. She holds me and rubs circles on my back, not asking a single question.
    Today I will allow myself to be vulnerable.
    But from tomorrow I will have to put on the mask of the functioning stable girl for the sake of society.
    For vulnerability is yet another tool in the hands of men they use to lure unsuspecting girls.
    I will never be in that position again.
    I thought the nightmare I woke up to was bad.
    But far worse is the nightmare of reality.

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