This is the first time in quite awhile that I'm actually writing anything and I realize that some of my friends may be shocked, But something happened to me last night and, although it happened four years ago, I've never written about it. I figured what better time than now, when it's fresh in my mind again.

Also, for some reason, I'm not able to title this (what is going to wind up being) drawn out story, so forgive me ahead of time.

I met my friend out for a couple of drinks at Uncles last night. We had both agreed ahead of time that it was going to be a quick night for the two of us; nothing more and a few beers (and the ritualistic shot). I arrived a few minutes before him and settled down with an ice cold bottle of beer (monkey piss to some who shall remain nameless). All in all it started out as a enjoyable, yet uneventful night. We shared some talk, laughs, shots. I received a nice box of fudge brought back from the shore (but stuffed into a Wawa bag--I haven't quite figured that one out yet).

One brief topic that came up was how a former housemate of mine entered my house unexpectedly (he had moved out a few months before) at 3 in the morning. It freaked me out so much so that I nearly crashed a lamp over his head as I heard him moving upstairs towards my bedroom. Considering what had happened to me a few months before (that story is what I'm now leading up to) it was a terrible thing for him to do to me at such an early hour.

I mentioned this to my friend last night and he wanted me to save this story and go into detail later. I happily agreed and he soon moved across to the other end of the bar to speak to another friend of his who had entered some time earlier.

I ordered another beer and made some brief conversation with the off-duty bartender who was sitting next to me. At one point, I took a swig from my bottle and looked across the bar to the cash register. I realized it was past midnight when the digital display read 7-9-7. I stared at the numbers for a few more seconds wondering the significance. Suddenly a chain reaction started to take place in my head:

* Who's birthday is it?...
* No ones
* Yes it is...
* No...
* It's something...
* Friend's, family's?...
* Crap! Anniversary...
* Mom & Dad...
* Remember to call or mom'll be pissed...
* She worries about you when you don't call...
* She'll think something happened...
* Like that other time...
* When that guy...

I suddenly felt my heart begin to pound harder as my eyes locked in on that digital readout before me. My mind raced back over the years. Images began to form in my head. Then came the voice, whispering once again in my ear. Deep, rough, angry:

"Don't scream. I don't want to hurt you..."

I suddenly didn't want to leave the bar. I knew it was in my head, but my body wouldn't move for a moment. I looked around the bar at the faces. People were laughing and joking. The music was blaring. Everything started to blend together as the mirrored walls closed in around me.

I closed my eyes and pushed it away. When I opened them again, things were back to normal. I figured it was now or never. I took one last swig of beer and got up to leave. My friend was at the bar near the exit and I told him I freaked myself out and was leaving. We have plans today and he said he was leaving in a couple minutes himself. I walked out the door and headed home.

One half of me kept telling me to grab a taxi, but I needed the air to try and clear my head, so I walked the 8 or 9 blocks to my house, all the while that night replayed itself over and over in my mind, not letting go. What freaked me out even more was that, outside of the bar I had just left, everything was identical to that night...including the date.

Four years ago, I had left another bar after deciding that I wasn't going to drink too much. Just a beer or two. I needed to get up the next morning for a job interview. It was a hot, muggy night and, as I made my way down the quiet Center City streets, I kept thinking about the coolness of my bedroom. After about ten minutes, I turned the corner onto my quiet tree-lined street. I reached my house and pulled my keys out and unlocked the security gate. I unlocked the inside door and stepped into my vestibule. I turned around, keys in hand, to close and lock the gate when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement to my left.

"Are you Michelle?" A voice asked. (I don't actually remember the name he used, but it was a girl's name.

"What?" I replied to the figure drawing nearer. My hand was on the gate and I was swinging it closed, key in hand and ready to lock.

"Are you Michelle?" He repeated. He was now at the foot of my stoop.

"No." I answered. My key was just touching the lock on the gate.

The above dialogue lasted less than 5 seconds. There was no alarm in my head. I was going through my normal procedure of locking the gate. But that brief exchange was all he needed to make a move.

He grabbed the gate and pulled. My hand was still gripping and, as I tried to pull it shut again, my mind could not grasp what was going on.

Who is this guy?
Do I know him?
Doesn't he know I don't look like a Michelle?

The alarm started to ring loudly in my head as we struggled with the gate, but at the same time I couldn't understand what was actually happening. Everything was happening so quickly. Only about ten seconds had now passed since this guy first spoke, but everything was happening in slow motion. He pulled hard on the gate and I felt it being torn out of my grip.

"Get in!" He shouted, stepping into the doorway.

I screamed for help as I reached my hands out infront of me to try and push him back outside. I still remember the oversized 53 on his chest; white numbers on a back blue football jersey.

He pushed me further into the house and kicked the door closed with his foot, all the while holding onto the neck of my t-shirt and pulling me closer to him. I yelled again, hoping someone was walking by my open window...but when I looked towards the window, I saw the fan on the floor and the blinds closed. It had rained earlier that day and I had shut the window. I mentally kicked myself.

It's amazing what goes through your head...

He through me down onto the floor and I felt his full weight ontop of me. I struggled to break free and I tried to scream again. I was lying face down on my livingroom floor and I felt his thick fingers begin to wrap around my neck. I tried to scream again, but when I took in a lungfull of air, his fingers tightened.

"Don't scream. I don't want to hurt you." His words were harsh in my ears. His breath was hot.

I didn't listen. I tried to scream again, but as his fingers tightened around my throat even further, all that escaped my lips was a throaty gurgle. I felt my eyes begin to water and white spots soon replaced my vision of the television stand a few feet infront of me.

"Shut up!" he barked through clenched teeth. "I told you, I don't want to hurt you."

His fingers relaxed, but as one hand completely released itself from my neck, the other held their position, threatening me.

I pleaded, both to him and to God. My words were soft and caught between sobs. The weight of this guy (who was actually about 190 or so pounds) felt like a car ontop of me. I felt his free hand searching my pockets, pulling my wallet out.

I suddenly remembered my grandfather's high school ring, a gift the previous Christmas from my mother. It had never been off of my finger and it suddenly dawned on me that, although small and of little value except to me, it was in plain view of my attacker. I struggled to pull my hand inside and under my chest.

I didn't have any money on me which, on one hand, was a good thing. He wasn't going to take anything, but my pride, dignity and feeling of security within my own home. It wasn't until he flipped me over that I realized he may take something else.

I was now on my back. My attacker was straddled across my chest. Both of us were breathing heavy. He reached into one of his pockets of his baggy black pants and said to me: "Let's see what you got upstairs."

It was then that I saw the knife he had slipped out of his pocket...