I thought I was so paranoid of something bad happening to me that it never actually would.
(For the record, I know this makes me a very boring person).
The corporate apartment I was staying in had this same kind of door.
Ieva Urenceva
Its a small studio where you might see everything immediately when you walk in.
There are two closets and a bathroom.
I looked in both closets when I was unpacking.
I even looked behind the shower curtain.
I thought I was so paranoid of something bad happening to me that it never actually would.
Maybe you should also know that Im a bad sleeper, especially when I travel.
That night I slid a few dropper fulls of liquid melatonin under my tongue.
I was also just tired, so I was unusually out of it as I slept.
The man who entered my apartment that night wasnt subtle.
He could have just moved a few things, I would have noticed.
I would have been uneasy and paranoid.
I guess he wanted more than that, hence the overkill.
I thought maybe I was sleepwalking or thered been an earthquake or something.
How and why had my suitcase been upended everywhere?
Then I saw the note.
When I picked it up I discovered a used condom and wrapper underneath.
The inside of the note said I enjoyed our time together again.
xx
I think I went into shock.
I was laughing too.
I didnt believe this was real.
It was 3:30 a.m. and no one answered.
There was no one in the hallway.
I went back to the apartment.
I checked all the closets.
There was a door I didnt notice before, locked from the other side.
I felt agitated every moment I was in the apartment, I was too closed in, easy bait.
I wanted to switch.
I didnt feel safe, what if this guy came back?
I felt disgusting, I couldnt ask Robbie to sleep in that bed after what happened.
Id never been raped before.
It felt unfair that this was my problem to deal with now.
I finally called 911, they put me on hold and eventually disconnected me.
This call confirmed my fear, theydidthink I was hysterical.
I sat on my bed freaking out for an hour and a half.
I got dressed and went to a coffee shop two blocks away and made a plan.
The man would come back tonight, this I knew for certain.
He knew who I was and how to get to me and he wanted to terrorize me.
There was no who who popped up in my head.
Usually my relationships worked the other way around.
Id go to work.
Id ask my boss about the door that locked from the other side.
He wasnt in early, but my co-worker I trusted the most was.
I confided in her everything that happened.
We walked back to the apartment.
Ive had anxiety all my life but it had never been this bad.
I was taking new medication.
I was sharing with her my ups and downs and now I realized what a mistake this had been.
I had a baggie full of pills on the counter.
I wondered briefly if I should tell her Iwascrazy.
Maybe Id feel safer in a mental ward.
In the end, I checked myself into a hotel room on my own dime.
I couldnt really afford it but I didnt have a choice.
I laid on the bed and opened my Macbook and did the rest of my work for the day.
I ordered room service so I didnt have to leave.
There wassomeoneI couldnt trust and I didnt know who.
I felt a new jolt of adrenaline when it got dark.
I feel safer in hotels than almost anywhere else.
Theyre so sanitized and full of people.
Theres a great big lock on a big, strong door.
There was no other way in.
I took three droppers full of melatonin this time, I knew there was no other way Id sleep.
The liquid felt sticky and sweet under my tongue.
My head hit the pillow and I was out.
When I woke I knew someone was in the room.
I stayed still and let my eyes adjust.
I breathed as deep as I could so that I still sounded asleep.
I saw an outline on the floor.
Someone crawling, a big man, trying to be quiet.
I thought about how people said the original nightstalker used to do that.
I heard him crawl to the door, I heard him let himself out.
When I got up to look at the door, the metal lock was in place.
I turned the light on and looked around the room.
There was a note on the desk, another piece of folded, lined paper ripped from a notebook.
Darling Lane,
You look so troubled when You sleep.
Try not to worry so much.
Im here with you always.
xx
Im going to be honest about a gross thing here.
The note made me feel special.
I was terrified and repulsed and all of that.
But there was a little spark of warmth there, too.
Someone wanted me so much they were doing all this crazy, primal stuff.
I was like the heroine in a horror movie.
Maybe I could write him back and win him over.
If I could play his game for a bit, would he calm down?
On the other hand, I could just leave New York.
Word would get out.
I went to the front desk and asked to switch rooms.
The front desk lady was young and friendly enough that I pretended to level with her.
I took four droppers of melatonin.
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen and I at least wanted to be unconscious for it.
The next morning I woke up to bouquets of roses.
The air in the room was perfumed with them.
I had dreamed of being in someones warm embrace.
Of feeling safe in a country house somewhere with the windows open with someone who loved me.
There was a simple note, For my love, you deserve the best, xx.
But I didnt feel afraid anymore.
Whoever this man was, he wasnt going to hurt me.
He could sneak into locked apartments and secure hotel rooms.
He was strong (Id seen his frame in the dark).
I was watched over, and it made me feel weary but it also made me feel comfort.
I didnt change rooms that night but I repeated the four droppers of liquid melatonin.
I awoke to more roses.
I smiled when I saw them.
They say that Stockholm Syndrome happens because there is an innate human desire for consensus building.
We are desperate to get along.
We feel unease with conflict.
Theres an intimacy in a hostage situation that causes a hostage to bond with their captor.
I just dont really think its that complicated.
He made me feel terrified.
He made me feel like no one believed me because I was a crazy girl.
Then he was there to take me in his arms and make me feels safe.
Hebecamethe entirety of my sense of safety.
There were flowers every morning.
Fresh, expensive flowers and notes and letters about how much he cared for me.
I know what he did is bad.
But hes not a bad person.
He saw in me the person I am at my core, someone who needs protecting.
Its a kind of heros journey.
Theres a darkness before the dawn and the hero is flawed.
The hero slays the dragon to save the princess.
There arent dragons around anymore, but the hero still has to defeat something.
There has to be a conflict.
We began talking at night.
He told me hes killed before.
None of those women understood him the way I do.
I rubbed his shoulders while he told me about them.
I felt jealous that his attention had ever been consumed by anyone but me.
I felt bad that those women had died.
I wish he would have found me first.
I never did go back home.
It didnt feel like home anymore.
Home was where he was.
