At age 23, while searching for a friend's new address, I was kidnapped by a stranger, a Vietnam combat veteran, and held prisoner for hours in a house. I was blindfolded. It was beyond terrifying. Eventually, I came to the reluctant conclusion that I was going to die and therefore had nothing to lose. Terrified, full of adrenaline and all that amazing body chemistry that happens under life threatening circumstances, I fought for my life. Obviously, I am here now so you know I won my fight.
I was so scared that when I finally escaped that house, after amazingly knocking my young 6 foot tall male attacker unconscious, I suffered total amnesia for about hour and a half. Eventually, I found my way home, called the police, only to be put through a very rude insulting interrogation by a cynical unbelieving cop, forced to go to a hospital for a rape examination (I had never claimed rape and was not raped or threatened with it during the attack), then they finally let me show them the house I'd been dragged into...And then they arrested him. I had to identify him at the police station from a one way mirror. I shook for hours. He claimed he was being framed because he was black. When they told him I'd identified him, he admitted the truth and signed a confession.
The judge sentenced him to 5 years in prison...then suspended the sentence due to my attacker's service to his country.
I have a scar under my arm where he cut me with a scalpel he'd stolen from a hospital. One of my teeth got injured permanently, still sometimes hurts. No one I knew seemed to have any empathy for my experience, not even my boyfriend. I felt very alone. I was very shaken up. Years later I found out more about why the guy did what he did but it wasn't good news. But I have always been proud of myself for deciding to fight against what seemed like a hopeless situation. Right around that time I became a history buff regarding the battle of the Alamo in Texas in 1836. I could identify with how those people must have felt.
