i’m sorry if you can relate

have you ever asked yourself the big question?

I'm sure you have. perhaps it's a bit taboo, in a way. but we all think about it, at one point or another. why else do we flock in droves to see horror films- the most sick and twisted minds providing depraved scenarios that depict a godless world of horrors sanctioning what society condemns? Nevertheless, I'm sure at some point in time, you've asked yourself the ‘big’ question: “if it really came down to it... could i take another life?”

I've always said that I could never, and most people believe me. i’ve asked them if they thought i could, if it came down to it. 

“What, you? you couldn't hurt a fly!” they'd insist, waving a hand. I don't blame them- I'm a feeler, a lover, a crier. Not the kind of cold hearted, steady handed, or flat out harsh enough of a person who could seems like she could defend herself if it really came down to it. i’m a woman, i’m active but i’m not stronger than the average man by any means. i’m average height which, at best, is a whole foot shorter than most men. i’m not faster than a man. i’m not stronger. i’m not taller. so, even if i wanted to and tried, in self defense of course, i’ve always rationalized it with that i never could. oh, not to mention the freeze. what an atrocious habit of mine, the freezing. it haunts me at every major intersection of my life- unable to decide, unable to stand up for myself. like a deer in headlights; when life starts to crash, I lock up and just prepare for impact. I subject myself to my fate, and start readying first aid, start contemplating how i’ll mitigate the fallout; how i’ll clean up the flood. i prepare for the worst and i let it happen because i can’t run, but i can’t fight either. i just freeze. i get stuck. and that is my biggest downfall- Letting anyone do what they want, because it's easier for me to nurse my broken body and soul than it is to be contrary, to put up a stand. 

or so i thought.

the red flags were there. I looked directly at them, stared them down like a dog eyeing a prized steak and continued anyways. I don't even have the excuse of rose tinted lenses, this time, i knew. but l'd had a few drinks, and after a severe mental breakdown my morals were deciding to clock out and i couldn’t think straight. but i knew. and yet, I took a chance. i rolled the die and left my fate up to a sick game of roulette, thinking the game master was on my side. and I bet wrong. Usually I handle my alcohol pretty well, but what with new medication, it hit harder than I had intended. on the ride over to his place, I could feel it. i felt it start in my feet and climb to my hands, my head fogging up- but I knew that I had reached the point of no return. It was whatever, right? I figured it was either going to be a good time, or fucking awkward. and if it was a bad night, i’d add it to the pile of broken records and forget it ever happened. 

i mean, worst case scenario, you can always just freeze… right?

as we got to business, the demands got weirder and weirder. introducing kinks that were not discussed, or consented to. “oh, yeah, I don't like being touched. Oh yeah, I prefer if you lay perfectly still. Oh yeah, don't make any noise either.” I was drunk. I was tired. I was confused, and disappointed, and frustrated. I was anxious. i just wanted it to be over and the more i focused on it instead of escaping into my head, to say i was overwhelmed would be an understatement. I pushed him off of me so I could roll over and throw up in the trash bin by his bed. 

"Woah. You really are fucked up." He said, watching me as I choked on acid. It had come up my nose, dripping off my septum ring. My vision was blurry, my head felt hot, my ears were ringing, and my hands felt 10 miles away. i wanted to leave. 

"That's so hot."

his words made me retch again. I wanted to go home, but I didn't even know how to speak up. from a mixture of alchoholic shock and a general just takenabackness i was experiencing, i just fell back on the bed hoping to let my head rest for a moment. and he pounced on me, as if me puking and shaking was an erotic display; a striptease. He was pawing me, grabbing handfuls of me, telling me how perfect I was like this. I could feel the ice starting to seep into my bones. The freeze was coming, and even though I wanted to do literally anything but let him have his way, I felt had no other choice and i felt my world slowing down. just go away, like you've done before. when you tell them 'hey, it hurts-' and they just grunt out 'five more minutes’. you go away, and bite the pillow, and wait it out. physical pain is so much easier to handle than standing up for myself, it always has been. sometimes i get off on it, but when i want it. and in this moment, it was the last thing i wanted. 

"This will help you feel better," he said, and then something was pressed into my slack mouth. "Be a good girl, and just swallow."

it was a pill.

Suddenly, I was sober. It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my whole body. my head cleared, my limbs came to life, and my heart picked up its lulling pace. I turned my head and spit it out, half hidden under the pillow so he couldn't see. not that he was paying attention- He was busy thrusting away, lost in his own disgusting fantasy about what was going on. 

"You have got ten seconds to get off of me." | spoke, and even I was shocked by how steady and clear my voice sounded. i propped myself up slightly, trying to gain my composure and met his face, It was the first thing I had really said in the last half hour and for a moment he almost looked shocked. it didn’t last. 

he just started thrusting faster, pretending not to hear me i suppose. after all, in his mind, i probably had minutes left before i’d be out cold or worse.

and all at once, as if my life were flashing before my eyes, I saw them all. all the men who demanded 'five more minutes! they all looked the same. 'just let me finish' they looked just like him.

he really was surprised, when he went flying off of the bed. Kicked him straight in the chest, summoning a strive of strength i didn’t know existed in myself nor that was physically possible. he hit the concrete floor with a definitive, satisfying thump. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! What the fuck?!"

I didn't answer. I was up, stumbling around.

Tugging on my clothes as fast as I could, throwing my stuff in my bag. He'd taken my glasses off of my face and put them aside somewhere the moment we stepped through the door, and I needed them- without them, I was basically blind.

"Glasses. Where are they"

"Hey, why don't you just sit down and-"

"Where are my glasses."

He wouldn't tell me. He kept talking in circles,

'just sit down, just relax, you need to calm down, you can't go anywhere all worked up like this' he would repeat. All I heard was 'I'm praying that pill kicks in soon, but unbeknownst to him, it wasn’t going to. 

He reached up, tugging on my arm. "Hey, you need to-"

I was a creature running on instinct. Before I even really knew what I was doing, I had whirled on him, fist connecting with his stomach. He crumpled like the pathetic worm he was, clutching his belly, gasping. And when he looked up at me, and my 150 pounds of pure adrenaline and alcohol fueled rage towering over him...

he froze. he froze.

I saw it. the freeze. he was staring at me with this dumb, shocked look. like he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him. Like his brain couldn't compute what the next possible move should be.

oh, I'm sorry... is that a violating feeling?

I couldn't stand still. My body was shaking. I felt like I had just railed a line, like I could run for miles… like I could beat a man to death with my bare fists.

And in some sick, ironic twist, I understood. in that moment, looking at this man who minutes ago had been so sure he was in control-cower before me? I understood the appeal and i licked it up like it was peanut butter on a silver spoon.

The room was crackling with unspoken energy.

The power dynamic had flipped.

Suddenly, I wasn't stuck in a room with him. He was stuck in a room with me.

just to see what happened, I lunged a little at him, and he flinched. My ego roared. Within a minute, I had gone from nothing but a hole, to a fucking god.

I stared at him for a long time. Then I spat, and the glob stuck to his shoulder. He flinched again- this time even harder than the first. i could tell that this tower of a man was genuinely afraid of me in that moment.

and that’s when the thought crawled into my mind, like a disgusting sickness. sick like him. I could stay. We were alone in that room.

The walls were well soundproofed. I could stay, and I could take out 20 years worth of primal rage on the sick piece of shit before me.

I could punch and kick him until he vomited, then smear it back on his face, make him eat it, and croon about how much he must enjoy it.

I could drag him by his hair to the bathroom and dunk his head in the toilet, like a high school bully, pushing him further and further until he drowned. I could fucking grab his skull and dig my thumbs into his eyeballs until I felt that satisfying *pop*

what was stopping me?

it started with a laptop. 

behind where i was standing, he had a nice dell laptop sitting on his desk, bulky and practically calling for his skulls name. who was i to deny it? so i obliged the dell laptop, happy to help. i snatched it faster than he could process, and slammed it so hard over the top of his thinly covered head it split in two. upon impact he crumpled further down the ground, instinctively trying to reach up and block the assault. he didn’t stop for me, i wasn’t going to stop for him. so i turned my now split weapon vertically, the sharp metal fragments of its innards now points downwards, and slammed it over him again. this time, there was blood. it sliced up a good portion of his knuckles, and nicked a part of his forehead. at this point the laptop was done for and i knew i had mere moments to figure out what to do next before this man realized that despite the new roles, he could change it very easily. i had to make sure that wasn’t possible. a swift kick to the balls bought me enough time to locate a drawer of sextoys and other supplemental items. i wasn’t here to fuck him, though. not anymore. i was here to teach him a lesson he so desperately deserved. and that’s when it hit me. the gravity of everything chimed in, what i was doing. what i was planning on doing, fueled by drunken adrenaline. but that's the thing. I was fully capable of doing all of those things. I knew it. He knew it. I think he was expecting it, actually. He looked so scared and small. And even knowing that he was a horrible, horrible person... I didn't want to. Not for his sake, but for mine. All I really wanted was to be back home, safe, and done.

I just found my glasses, turned on my heel, and left without another word.

When I checked my phone and saw my location, I was almost an hour away from home. I had to bite the bullet and drop 70 bucks on a ride. the next morning, I woke up. I showered, even though I'd just spent three hours in the tub when I'd gotten home at 2am. I made my niece breakfast, and we watched cartoons. As my family woke one by one and greeted me, going along their day, I couldn't help but feel bizarre.

I wonder if they'd ever had to ask themself the big question, too.

i never heard from him again, probably afraid if i’d ever contact the cops. he’d never be able to argue i attacked him first despite his injuries. i’m just a small girl who was alone with a big man. he knew all i’d have to say is the truth, and that i was just defending myself and it would all be over for him. like many things in life, and just like him, i chose to move on.

so i ask you, the big question. could you?