Victimized
I got up at an ungodly hour on Friday morning to catch the bus downtown Seattle. I had called the box office at 5th Avenue the night before and the man assured me that the box office opened at 9 a.m. and that there would definitely be tickets for sale. I've never seen Les Mis. before and I was totally excited. So I sacrifice half a night's sleep (read: two hours, since I only ever really sleep for about four) and take the character caravan into the city. I get to the theater and what do I discover? The box office doesn't open until twelve. Yep, noon, the dickhead on the phone was off by three hours. Why would a respected establishment such as the 5th Avenue Theater employ a man incapable of relaying some of the most basic information relevant to his job? Why?
So I reluctantly turn away from the disheartening sign on the closed up window and start walking down the street. All of a sudden someone grabs me violently from behind in a quasi-bear hug-tackle. For exacly one nanosecond I thought it must be someone I know, because really, who comes up behind you like that but someone you know, wanting to surprise you. But in the next nanosecond I realized that the person hit me with far too much violence for this to be a friendly greeting. Then the guy started to tell me things. He said that he had been watching me and that I was teasing him. That my little cute belly button was teasing him. And then he gripped me harder and told me that he thought I would feel really good. I panicked and tried to fight my way loose. I tried to hit him, but he had my upper arms pinned to my sides and all I could do was try to use my elbows. I was so scared and he kept saying all these dirty things. Finally I got an arm free or something and I clubbed him one hard enough to make him groan. He dropped me and took off running. I was lying there on the sidewalk and looked around for someone to help me--no one had noticed. I started to cry. I spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy. Every time I didn't have a task in front of me my mind would replay the scene and I would be stuck on all the things that I should have done. I couldn't sleep that night, and when I finally did I had nightmares. I woke up and my whole body was sore. My side hurt from landing on it and my arms were sore where he had grabbed me. My muscles were tired from carrying so much stress throughout the night. But the worst part of the whole ordeal was that when people asked me what happened, they would laugh. I don't understand how something so frightening for me could amuse people.
So I reluctantly turn away from the disheartening sign on the closed up window and start walking down the street. All of a sudden someone grabs me violently from behind in a quasi-bear hug-tackle. For exacly one nanosecond I thought it must be someone I know, because really, who comes up behind you like that but someone you know, wanting to surprise you. But in the next nanosecond I realized that the person hit me with far too much violence for this to be a friendly greeting. Then the guy started to tell me things. He said that he had been watching me and that I was teasing him. That my little cute belly button was teasing him. And then he gripped me harder and told me that he thought I would feel really good. I panicked and tried to fight my way loose. I tried to hit him, but he had my upper arms pinned to my sides and all I could do was try to use my elbows. I was so scared and he kept saying all these dirty things. Finally I got an arm free or something and I clubbed him one hard enough to make him groan. He dropped me and took off running. I was lying there on the sidewalk and looked around for someone to help me--no one had noticed. I started to cry. I spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy. Every time I didn't have a task in front of me my mind would replay the scene and I would be stuck on all the things that I should have done. I couldn't sleep that night, and when I finally did I had nightmares. I woke up and my whole body was sore. My side hurt from landing on it and my arms were sore where he had grabbed me. My muscles were tired from carrying so much stress throughout the night. But the worst part of the whole ordeal was that when people asked me what happened, they would laugh. I don't understand how something so frightening for me could amuse people.