One need not be a chamber to be haunted;

One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.
~Emily Dickinson, "Time and Eternity"



The brain is strange. I know that everyday I'm forgetting more and more, growing farther from the memories I made ten, five, two years ago. I remember graduating, but no details about the day. I remember the first time I said 'I love you', but I don't remember anything about what prompted it, just where I was and who I was with. I remember turning 21 (surprisingly) but not who all was there, or where we went. I remember lots of things, as in remembering they happened. You tend to lose the details.

Why is it then that the brain decides to remember every single little detail of the days of tragedy?

I was in Bed, Bath, and Beyond the other day. All of sudden I was frozen with the strangest panic and anxiety. I immediately went back to August 8th 2009. I was on a marketing assignment with Melissa for Kildares, and we stopped in Bed, Bath and Beyond so that I could buy a wine opener, since I had lost mine during the move to my new apartment. I hadn't been in a BBB since that day. I still can't wear anything I wore that day. I remember everything about that day. It had been one of those wonderfully average, warm and laid back summer days. I worked all day with Melissa, had dinner with her at Subway, and then we had one of our chill wine nights. I remember us discovering the creepiness and awesomeness of Toddlers and Tiaras and how much we laughed during the marathon of episodes TLC was running. I remember catching up on the True Blood that I had missed with Patrick later that night. Walking home because I refused to make Patch move his car to take me home, because I am stubborn. I remember walking down Bernard, contemplating a Taquito, and then ultimately deciding I didn't want to feel like crap in the morning. Remember not having any food in the house. Remember losing on of my contacts in the sink when I took them out. Watching a history channel special about prostitution in ancient Pompeii. Turning off the TV. Hearing the noise. And then seeing and feeling and screaming things I will NEVER forget.

It sounds twisted and maybe dramatic, but I will never forget how his hands felt on me. How my stomach churned up through my esophagus and my hands tried to pull and grab and push and stayed painfully immobile. How it was like watching myself scream, like hearing myself but not really believing I was the one making the sound. How even in those brief moments I was at once denying it was happening and also knowing very well what he could do to me. Looking at the window and screaming louder. Wondering how I could run outside even if I got free, being that I was only in my underwear. Feeling like I was going to die.

And after, breaking free, watching him run out of the room, the realization that my heart was beating so fast and hard that I thought for sure it was going to beat right through my chest. Like it was going to explode. My head pounded so hard that I was sure I would pass out and that my brain was going to fall out of my skull. He was gone but I continued to scream still hoping that someone would hear. I looked for my phone and could barely hold it. Calling 911 and realizing I had no idea how to describe what just happened to me.

As the months pass I get farther from it. Less and less I have to talk about it, unless its to the lawyer or the detective or someone on the case. Somedays it really does just seem like a bad dream that I can't shake, like something I remember very well but never really happened. Other days, like the day in BBB, and I get transported right back to that exact point in time, and I feel it all, all over again. I had never until that point, and not since, ever felt pure, true terror. And its weird. Because I don't really want people to know. Because I'm not some freak and I'm not going to break and no one has to tiptoe around. I'm ok, and I'm lucky to be here, and to not have been hurt. There's not a lot more I could ask for. If it had to happen, it had the best possible outcome. The only thing I want is to able to feel safe again. To be able to sleep and not run through all the possibilities in my mind every night. To not double check the deadbolt on my bedroom door 10 times a night, or check the window locks every night, or freak out that the fire escape is next to my window, or obsessively make sure the window alarms are working. I want to be able to go downstairs at night and get a goddamn glass of water if I want to. I guess when it comes down to it, I just wanna feel normal again. Because there is a sense of myself that is gone that used to be there, and I miss it severely. It'll be four months next week. Everyday it gets better. Everyday it will get better. I'll always be cautious, I know. I just don't want to always be afraid.

-J