The Trauma aka "sonofabitch"

March 6, 1998. My girlfriend Mich had come to Nashville with her boyfriend Jacob. It was her 21st birthday so we planned to live it up. I was DD which was fine since she had a 1997 BMW convertible. We had a plan. Spouse & I had been fighting, in fact that night, he spent with his new girlfriend aka Gutter Slut. So off I went to meet Mich at her hotel, picked up her & her car plus another fiend who lived in Nashville. Dropped them off on Broadway, took the top off (it was 67*) & cruised around for about an hour while they went to collect her birthday drinks. I stopped to get gas somewhere around Glitter Gulch & ran into my ex boyfriend Jason's roomie. They were Special Forces. They liked to brag about their badassery & how they find stuff out, scout, are trained to kill etc... So Mason (Jason's roomie--- I don't think that was his 1st name) said hey, I went over to chat. He was kind. I talked about my bullshit marriage (at the time) & he was empathetic, even rubbing my back. The attention was welcome & felt wonderful to feel cared for.

We talked a bit more & as I went to leave he leaned in for a kiss. I pushed him away & told him we were just friends. I don't remember how but somehow I ended up face down on the bench seat of his red late 50's Chevy truck. His "big ass hunting knife" was pressed against my neck. To this day when I get anxious, when I have flashbacks or night terrors, I rub my neck where I can still feel the cold blade. "Torn" by Natalie Ambruglia was playing, or just ending, "Under the Bridge" by Red Hot Chili Peppers came on. I remember watching this happen to me but feeling it all the same. "Don't forget me bitch. You know you like the kinky shit, I heard you & Morgan [Jason] fucking. I don't care bout your husband, he's just infantry, I will kill him & make it look like an accident. You tell one fucking person and I will kill everyone you love while you watch". Verbatim. I still feel his breath on my skin, I feel his teeth as he bites the hell out of my shoulder. Before the Red Hot Chili Peppers song was over, so was the attack. I had a small handgun in my hippie bag which was slung across my shoulders. Before & during the attack I had no opportunity to use it, nor do I think I could have. Afterward I just wanted away.

I didn't even get gas. I pulled up to the Stage to get Mich & she knew so etching was wrong. She forced me to go to the hospital. I sat in the backseat with my head in her lap. Jacob drove. I refused to get out of the car at Baptist Hospital. Finally, when Mich said I could use a different name, I got out. The police have a record of Leslie Osborn. Not Erika Quinn or Willis. I felt that anonymity would save me. It allowed me more disassociation. By 6:45 am I was heading home to Oak Grove. When our visiting company saw me, they too figured something bad happened. Finally, Spouse's best friend coerced the event out of me. He called Spouse to tell him I'd "been taken".

Needless to say, the drive Spouse & I took was ugly. He didn't understand the meaning of "being taken" & I was still reeling & terrified. Finally we talked, or I screamed & ran off. That apparently made him feel guilty. He ended it with Gutter Slut & we started to try to heal. Chaplains helped but then I got pregnant (which I lost), & was pregnant again 2 months later. Life just happened. Once a year for 12 years I allowed myself a day, the anniversary, to feel & mourn.

In 2010 something snapped. Suddenly my rape was all around me. It consumed my life. I began seeing a rape counselor AND our marriage counselor quit seeing us as a couple to focus on me. Intensive therapy twice a week. Slowly the band aid came off. It's still coming off.

I make progress constantly. It never goes away though. I challenge myself to sit with my back to the door. My prejudice against black men is gone. I'm working on my hatred of Special Forces. I trigger easily. I've found that sharing my story helps. Talking about it helps.

To be continued: next topic- my letter to Paul & my letter to Mason....