The distinctive threatening atmosphere of the night has the nape of my neck on its ends. An invisible emanation of lurk. My phone is dead, I can not alert the man to wait for me by the bus stop. This drop off is a famous mug spot. I jump out of the kombi my heart literally leaping into my month. I take a deep breath to muster all the courage and strength I need to strut down the dark road. It’s so dark I can’t see anything except the dotted lights ahead from nearby homes.
The culmination of unfortunate occurrence is strong. Shit, I am scared. I am prepared to scream my lungs out and run as fast as my preggy legs can carry me. I clutch my purse closer to my side. I am on high alert, my eyes darting from side to side. I am walking in the middle of the road. I remember someone saying that it’s safer. The crunching sound of my feet hitting the gravel is making too much noise. Stealth mode is not so graceful with these preggy backaches. I don’t want to be raped or stabbed to death. Oh Lord, I am too young to die. A slight breeze and rustling leaves from nearby trees poke my nerves. I am now thinking of all the horror movies I have watched. Maybe far off there is a woman in a flimsy white gown. The ghost of the weeping widow. Conveniently, I hear the distant sound of a howling dog.
I am almost home, just after the curve I am home. Emerging around the curve I can make out a figure. It’s a person walking towards me. Not when I am almost home! I can even see my gate from here. I move to the extreme left side of the road. I am trying to increase the distance between this person and I. The figure crosses the road to my side. I cross the road to the right. This can not be happening! The figure crosses back. What do I do? Turn on my heels and run back? That’s what I do, run as fast as I can while screaming like a madwoman. I can hear the thuds of footsteps gaining behind me. My life flashes before my eyes. I am thinking of my son. I knew I should have bought a gun. I always say this. Here I am, a preggy defenseless woman. I feel the steely arms wrap around my waist from behind. Well, I have lived a good life…I guess this it. The all too familiar musk of aftershave engulfs me. He let’s go of me while laughing like a monkey on cocaine. It’s the husband, worried sick he took it upon himself to look out for me.
I am relieved, I am crying and cursing like a sailor. We walk back home, a massage is in order. My back is killing me, my heart is still racing, I am still hyperventilating. Chamomile tea, a hot bath, and that massage. I will never be this stupid again, put my vulnerable self out there and risking my life. I am getting that gun.