It is midnight and I just finished a double shift at the rape crisis center. Hour after hour I sit and listen while women young and old come and tell their story. My heart and head feel as though they are weighted with lead as their hollow eyes search mine for some kind of light for the darkness into which they have been thrust. Tonight, I worked with a 15 year-old girl, Carrie, who was raped in her own neighborhood while walking home from the corner grocery. My mind can’t escape the haunted look in her brown, once innocent eyes. As I stare into them all night, I can see her torn soul as she tells me how two boys, not much older than herself, grabbed her and dragged her to the roof of the building next to the one she and her family live in. There they viciously strip her of her innocence and leave her shattered and broken. My heart breaks for her as she relives how she kept her head turned away and could see the window of her own apartment. Knowing that safety was within eyesight, and yet no one came to help. No one heard her cries.

I went through all of the usual steps with Carrie. I got her in touch with a therapist. Made sure that a police report was filed, everything was in order. Everything but Carrie, that is.

On my way home I stop at the min-mart for cat food, cereal and milk. As I make my way home along wet streets made shiny by earlier rain, I can’t help but think how beautiful the darkness can be. When I pull into the driveway, I can see Buttons, my cat waiting for me in the living room window. I get out of the car and walk up on the porch to the door. My hands are full as I reposition my keys so that the house key is the one sticking out. I drop them. I sigh as I bend to pick them up and the milk falls out of the bag that I have tucked under my left arm. By this point I’m more than frustrated. I curse as I pick up the milk that now has dirt and other debris stuck to the wet plastic bottle. I catch a glimpse of Buttons jumping off the window seat as I jam my key into the lock and give it a quick turn. Aw! I am finally home. My frustration starts to subside as my cat welcomes me home by curling himself around my leg. I drop everything in my arms onto the couch as I walk down the hall, straight back to the bathroom and start the water in my tub. I make sure it is as hot as I can possibly stand. I’m satisfied when I see the steam begin to rise and curl up at the ceiling. I add my favorite lavender bath salts and oil and leave the bathroom for the kitchen. There, Buttons is waiting for his nightly feeding. I open the new bag of cat food and pour a little into his bowl. I stand for a few seconds and listen to him purr, then rinse the milk carton off before placing it in the fridge and head back to my hot bath.

As I undress, I feel as though I am lifting away a heavy layer of the day with every piece of clothing. Finally, I slip naked and free into the hot water. I breathe in deeply and let the lavender scented steam carry all the noise and the frustrations of everything I couldn’t fix today away. I exhale and lay my head back on the edge of the tub, close my eyes and am lost in the steam and lavender.

Suddenly, I am snapped back into reality as I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head. I realize that someone has grabbed me by the hair. I struggle to get my bearings as I’m lifted from the tub. Cold air hits my skin as I come out of the water, turning it instantly rough with goose pimples and I see my attacker for the first time in the mirror as he drags me across the floor without a word. I struggle desperately to gain my footing as I am pulled across my hardwood floor made slick by the water falling from my naked body. I realize he is pulling me toward my bedroom and for a second I have a flicker of relief. When we pass through my bedroom doorway, I grab hold of the door jam and try to pull myself free from him. He grabs me around my waist and neck and jerks hard. I loose my grip. I scratch and claw at his rough hands and he curses at the pain and throws me to the floor hard. I’m dazed for a moment and can’t breathe and I realize that the fall has knocked the air out of me.

He is on top of me, fumbling around clumsily, as I try to wiggle from under the weight and smell of him. My goal is to reach the head of the bed. If I can just get there I know I will be all right. I hear him curse into my ear as I struggle to keep him from doing what he came here to do. In his rage he stands and kicks me hard in the hip. The pain rips through my left side but I am thankful, as this blow has pushed me the couple of inches I need. I look up to see him taking down his pants the same time I feel my hand wrap around the cold, smooth handle of salvation. Just as he starts to lean over me again to pin me to the floor with his body, I raise my gun and fire. I hear the sound and tears fall for the first time as I hear my own voice say, “Not me, you bastard, not me”! I fire again as I see the shattered soul of Carrie and I hear her voice saying, “Never again”. He falls on me, lifeless, and I scramble out from under to the phone where I dial 911 and speak into the phone, “My name is Karen and I just killed a man”.