A Happy Ending

The following is a telling of what I consider to be a rape encounter with a happy ending.

My name is Janet. I am a forty-two year old single mother. Single because two years ago my husband of 19 years died suddenly of a massive heart attack while chasing a suspect in a robbery. Dan was a police officer and the love of my life. Mother because I have a daughter, Lisa who is eighteen and has been struggling with the loss of her father.

Lisa was a good student but since the death of her father, she had started running with the wrong crowd. There might have been drugs involved but I'm not certain because I never could bring myself to search her room. I guess I was always too scared of what I might find. I'm not sure if or when she started having sex.

I was still struggling with Lisa, but in June she had graduated from high school and had broken up with her boyfriend. He was a real low life and I was glad to see her coming to her senses. I was beginning to feel as though I had turned the corner on that June evening.

We live outside of Chicago and it was the first really summery day of the season. Lisa had just come home from her new job at the video store and had gone straight to bed. It was around eleven o'clock and I wasn't tired, so I decided to put on a night shirt, have a glass of wine and read a few pages of the latest Oprah book club offering.

My first indication that something was wrong occurred about a half-hour later. I don't remember hearing any noises. The first indication that anything was wrong was a sensation of the hairs on my neck standing on edge. I put down the book and looked around. Nothing. I tried to start reading again, but found myself listening to the sounds of the house rather than the sound of the words from the page. Finally I decided to give up. I stood and was walking toward the kitchen when I saw that the screen in the dining room window had been removed.

My heart leapt to my throat. I knew someone was in the house. If I would have been alone I would have made a run for it, but with Lisa upstairs I had to stay. My best move would be to call the police so I started to walk towards the kitchen as nonchalantly as I could. As I entered the kitchen a man grabbed the collar of my nightshirt from behind, twisted it and pulled it up. This lifted me off my feet and choked me.

He pulled me back and towards him so that I was up against him. I smelled the whiskey on his breath as he whispered to me, "If you make a noise I will kill you." Then he shoved me to the floor. I started moving as soon as I hit the floor. We have an island in the kitchen and I tried to crawl around it, but as I turned the corner I realized he had come around the other way. He savagely kicked me. I started sobbing on the floor and begging him for mercy. He knelt down and smoothed my hair. "If you do everything I say, you will be fine."

I looked at him and immediately recognized him. It was a guy who was part of the crew that had installed new windows on my house the previous week. I had met them all when I gave them all cokes while they worked. Nothing he did that day gave me any warning of what kind of a monster he was.

"You recognize me?" He asked.

"No," I lied.

He slapped me hard across the mouth. "Don't lie."

"Yes," I said, "You're one of the window guys."

He smiled at me but his eyes were cold. I knew that in recognizing him I was in deep trouble. I also saw the knife in his hand.

"Where is that hot little daughter of yours?" he asked.

My mind was racing. I could say she wasn't home, but he could have been watching the house. I could say she was downstairs, but again if he had been watching the house he probably would have guessed by the lights that her bedroom was upstairs. I decided to tell the truth. "She's upstairs. Please don't hurt her. She's just a child."

He smiled. "Hey, you didn't lie to me. Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch. I could tell she is in the front bedroom by the lights but you are wrong about her being a kid. She's got a great rack. What do you say we go up and see if she shaves her cunt."

He pulled me to my feet and twisted my nightshirt around me again. "Let's go," he said.

We walked toward the stairs. He had the neck of my nightshirt in one hand and the knife in another. He led me to the stairs. My mind continued to race. He was wrong about the bedroom. No doubt he had been watching the house and had seen her come home. He assumed that the front bedroom was my daughter's room, probably because he had seen the lights go on and off. What he had actually seen was my bedroom lights turn on and off when I was getting my book.

We started up the stairs and at the third step I tripped and when down on my knees. He wretched me back up, but when he did I pushed back as hard as I could and pushed us both backwards into space. He hit the floor and I landed half on top of him. We hit hard. While he broke a lot of my fall, my elbow hit the floor and a blast of pain shot up my arm. Somehow the knife missed me in the fall. I stood and went up the stairs. Again if I would have been alone I could have escaped, but Lisa was upstairs so I couldn't leave.

"YOU FUCKING CUNT!" he cried out as I reached the top of the stairs. I turned and saw he was standing and was starting to climb the stairs. I saw the knife and hoped that in his rage he might throw it at me, but no such luck. I was at the top of the stairs and in a split second made what could very well be the most important decision of my life. Instead of going to my daughter, I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped in. I did not turn on the light.

He was hurt by the fall and took some time to reach the top of the stairs. He had seen where I went and stood at the doorway of the dark room. He was breathing hard and the absolute rage was very apparent. "God you are dumb," he said. "I can see you."

I realized that although I was in a dark room I was being silhouetted in front of a window that was being lighted by an outside streetlight. He reached in and turned on the light. I stood like a deer in the headlight at the far end of the room, my bed between he and I.

"That was a big fucking mistake. I was going to be nice, but not anymore. I'm gonna fuck you and your daughter up good."

"Please just leave," I said.

"Fuck you," he replied in a haunting whisper.

"No. Fuck you," I said and pulled my hand out from behind my back. His eyes grew large when he saw me point my husband's old service revolver at him and before he could react I shot him between the eyes. The coroner told me later that he was dead before he hit the ground.

The shot was deafening and Lisa came running out of her room. When she saw him she started screaming, but when she saw me she stopped. Kids grow up fast and my Lisa did a lot of growing up in that instant. She ran to me and helped me downstairs. She took charge and called the police and an ambulance.

My elbow was broken, and I looked a mess, but I was OK. I look back on that night now and realize it is not one of the defining nights of my life. I've decided that every moment I had with my husband and every moment I will spend with my daughter and friends are more important than the 15 minutes or so that I spent with that monster that night.

If you are still reading this, I hope you are not very disappointed. I realize that this is not the standard offering here and to tell you're the truth I'm not expecting favorable feedback. I imagine many readers would argue that this story isn't erotic, but I have hope there are a few readers who will find it stimulating as I do.