He told me I was pretty. I thanked him and tried to finish my work. I was young, and I didn’t know how to handle the situation. I’d never even had a boyfriend before. I thought if I told him no, he would respect that. He said he wanted to take me out that night. I declined, and he got angry. He asked me if I thought I was too good for him. I tried to leave the office, but he grabbed me by the arm. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to think about it. One minute, I was trying to escape, and the next, he had me pinned against the desk. I think I screamed. He punched me in the face. After that, it was a blur. Mostly, I remember the senses around me. The sound of his zipper coming undone. Nausea as he pulled down my pants. His fingertips digging into my skin. He smelled like strong laundry soap. There was pain between my legs. It hurt because I wasn’t prepared for it. It was my first time. And I kept thinking I should have been fighting back, but I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move. All I could do was cling to the desk as he took what he wanted. I don’t know how long it lasted. It felt like hours, but I think it was only minutes. When he was done, he tucked himself away and said he thought I’d have more fight in me. He said I was disappointing. Before he left, he paused and then turned and asked me if I knew who he was. I shook my head, and he said you don’t want to find out. Keep your fucking mouth shut, and you get to live. I knew he meant it, so I didn’t say anything. Not right away. But after that, nothing was the same. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I lived in constant fear, looking over my shoulder.
I went to the police station a couple of weeks after it happened. There was an officer who interviewed me. He seemed nice at first. I thought he was going to help me. I left feeling like everything might be okay, but it wasn’t. The cop started showing up at my apartment. My work. My school. He had been watching me, and he knew my entire schedule. He told me some things were better left unsaid, and if I were smart, I’d forget that I had a one night stand I regretted. It was the first time I realized the guy had connections. I moved. I changed jobs. And I kept quiet, but I never stopped being afraid. There were times I thought about leaving the city altogether, but I was only a year away from finishing school. I didn’t want to give that up.
Time passed. I was trying to move on with my life. And then, one day, he saw me on the street. He wasn’t following me. It just happened. Millions of people in New York and I ran into him on the street. I could see it on his face. He’d forgotten about me. I was just a number to him. But when he saw the baby in my arms and the fear on my face, he remembered. Something changed then. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was there in his expression. I wasn’t just a nobody to him anymore. I had something he wanted.
I ran from him. I went back to my apartment, packed a bag, and set out to leave. But he was already there. When I went downstairs, he was waiting outside with more men I didn’t recognize. It was too late, but I still tried to escape. They caught me in seconds, prying my son from my arms while he screamed in terror. I didn’t know what was going to happen to him. I fought harder than I ever thought I could, but it didn’t matter. Two of the men took him away, and the rest shoved me into a van, locking me in the back with the devil. I begged him. Over and over, I begged him for mercy, but he had none. He tortured me for hours. Burning me. Stabbing me. Strangling me. It wasn’t going to end, but I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know.
Was it his son? That’s all he kept asking. Was it his? Like my baby was a possession. Something that could be taken from me. I told him no. Again and again, I told him no. And then he got the text. Someone had sent him the birth record, and when he saw the date, I knew it was over. I fought him. I fought for my life. But I was too weak. He slashed my throat and directed his men to toss me into the river while I choked on my blood. I floated away, thinking I’d never see my baby again. I’d never get to hold him, or kiss him, or protect him from the evil in this world. I didn’t know what would become of him, but I was certain I was already dead.