I was out with several friends, just yakking and stopping here and there for candy. A couple of the girls, Stacy and Marie, were dressed as fairies. Brenda was wrapped in gauze and was a mummy. Her mom found a case of expired bandages at the hospital where she worked, and oh, my, what a find! She laughed as she told us the story, her supervisor thinking it would make a great mummy costume for a silly teenaged girl and told her to take it home. It totally did! Two of us were dressed like slutty hookers, me a little more like the consummate slutty school girl and Winnie just in a black tube dress hooker uniform. A couple others were a witch and an angel, neither very convincing. The witch, Christie, was way too cute to be at all convincing, even with the big wart stuck on her nose, and the angel, if anyone knew her ... Well, she’d never pass muster. It’s amazing we weren’t struck by lightning with Gerene dressed like that. But we were out having fun and what the heck, it was Halloween night, after all, so what else really was there to do? Our little get together was breaking up and we were all on the way home anyway, so we all hugged, a few shared kisses, smiles, and giggles at the others kissing and smiling.

I waved as they walked away and then ran up the next sidewalk on the street and rang the doorbell.

As the door opened, I used my favorite, but probably overused funny line. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.” I looked at the occupant standing there as the inner door opened, but without much light from the street, or their house, I couldn’t see a lot. Then the porch light went off, the screen door flew open, and hands reached out for me before I could react.

They grabbed my face, with their hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream, and pulled me inside. I was off balance, falling forward, not really able to maintain my footing on the high heels I was wearing. Once they had me down on the carpeted floor, they put something made of cloth in my mouth. It tasted of soap and was wet. I couldn’t make any noise at all louder than a grunt. There would be no calling for help. Holding me on the floor, they tied my hands behind me and in a very strange muffled sounding voice told me to “Stop kicking or I’ll beat you until you can’t move.” That was when I knew I was in trouble. This situation was serious. Fear started setting in. I thought about my parents and how poorly I’d treated them lately. If I lived through this, I was going to apologize to my mother, hug her and tell her I love her.

The lights in the house were off. There seemed to be a night light in the kitchen by the refrigerator and one in the living room, where they tied me up, behind the table between two chairs. It was really dark and I could just barely see anything. I could just scarcely make out shadows of the furniture. A faint line around the window shades was slightly visible but that was about it. For the first time in my spoiled rotten sheltered inconsequential little life, I knew what it was like to be scared. Really, really afraid. It passed through my mind, along with the fear, that my father was strict. Very strict. Why did I think of that, during this attack, and then I thought, now, how I loved him for it? That feeling struck me deeply and I told myself at my first opportunity, if I had one, I would hug him around his neck, whiskers and all, and apologize to him and make sure he knew that I understood why he was so strict. Please, God, let me hug Mom and Dad again. If only I’d listed to his constant nagging about me being safe and being in groups with friends and staying away from bad boys, and ... Uummmphhh!

They jerked my arm and lifted me up, putting me in a kitchen chair at the table. After tying my ankles to the legs of the chair and retying my arms behind the chair back, they went somewhere deeper into the house. I was alone. Very, very alone, I realized then, thinking back on what was happening to me. I thought about them answering the door and that when they opened it, they were wearing a mask. I couldn’t see much, but the face was white. So was the forehead and the top ... Oh, God. I couldn’t identify them. No, wait, that might be good, I thought. If they knew I couldn’t identify them, they didn’t have to kill me. I’d have a chance. Maybe. Just maybe, God willing.

I heard soft footsteps behind me. They had me at the table in the kitchen, facing the wall. I really couldn’t see anything but the table and the wall. There was a clock on it. It was nine-fifteen at night. It was way too late for me to be out Trick or Treating. I was too old for it, in the first place, but then, I was just out having fun. A little thought led me to realize it was a little late for what ifs and shouldn’t haves.

The footsteps were falling softly on the tile floor. They were back in the kitchen. They draped a soft dishtowel over my head. It felt like one of the thin cotton cloths. A flour sack towel or a diaper cloth dishtowel, maybe. Oh, Jesus. I’m close to death and thinking about towels. Is this what it’s like before you die? Thinking about unrelated, or abstract things? Abstract. That was a thing we were studying in art class. ACCKKK! I felt something pointed, something sharp, being dragged up my left thigh. Oh, God, no, they’re going to cut me up and kill me. I could feel my nylons running, the torn weave in them lessening the light pressure where they made contact on the skin of my legs. I’m not going to live through this. Then they did the same to the other leg. They dragged whatever it was down the inside of my right thigh. The nylons parted as the implement was pulled along. I lost control and peed my pants. I shook, shuddered, my chest heaving, unable to catch my breath. I felt like every emotion, every possible way of expressing or experiencing fear and uncertainty I’d ever felt fired at once. It almost consumed me. I’m going to bleed to death. I’m going to die. Here. Tonight. Now.

My heart was beating so fast and so hard, I could hear it. I could feel it in my chest moving, pulsing, rapidly. I yelled into the cloth, “What did I do to deserve to die?” It came out as “wphhdphddmphnfie.”

The strange voice said, “Stop. Settle down. Breathe. Deeply. I’m not going to kill you. Quite the opposite. I’m going to tell you how to live. How to stay alive. Do you want to live, young lady? You can nod.” I nodded.

“Why do you put yourself in danger? Why do you take chances by being provocative, alone, defenseless?”

I shook my head. What was the big deal? Then, as they spoke, I thought, seriously, about what they were saying. I paid attention, letting the fear take a back seat while they talked.

“You are wearing a thin sleeveless shirt tied under your perky and quite sizable and attractive braless breasts with your nipples poking through the material. You have on skimpy little Daisy Duke shorts showing the cheeks of your cute little ass, worn over glittery black fine weave fishnet pantyhose, and five-inch black and silver platform high heeled sandals that would make a gentleman’s club stripper or pole dancer proud. Your makeup, with the sexy eye shadow and red voluptuous lipstick covered lips with the contrast outline, just begging someone to kiss you, to make love to your sexy mouth, while the rest of you is saying, ‘Fuck me, ravish me, use this cheap slut however you like,’ without speaking a word. You are out knocking on the doors of strangers, begging for candy, looking like a cheap hooker or possibly just an unpretentious sex starved slut, alone, late enough at night that no one would notice you getting grabbed, yet early enough not to realize you were missing for hours. We just proved that. Again, why do you put yourself in danger?”

My head dropped. I almost asked for this. Tears started to fall with the realization. True, it takes a bad person, an evil mind, to kidnap, rape, and torture a teenaged girl, but I was hunting for them and using myself for bait. Straight As, Honor Roll, All State Softball squad, but I’m a fucking moron. I was too stupid to keep myself safe and certainly not careful enough to stay alive.

The strange voice started again, “Can we talk? I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t. I actually, and seriously, want to save you. I am very fond of you. You know me. I saw you outside earlier and saw your friends take off, leaving you to walk alone. You are very, very fortunate. Lucky even, in one way, and yet so unlucky in another. I was hoping you would be silly. I was hoping maybe you’d try for one or two more candy bars before walking home. I was lucky, too. Now, can we talk? If we can’t, I need to know so I can blindfold and walk you far away from here and turn you loose. If you were paying attention, which I doubt you were, but maybe will in the future, you’ll very possibly know and remember the house, but you’ll never convince anyone this happened. I can guarantee that.” I nodded. “So, young lady, we can talk? Do you now understand why I did this?”

I nodded, feeling tears falling on my bare thighs. My fear was subsiding a bit. I couldn’t feel blood or anything except tears on my thighs, and the voice seemed steady and not quite as frightening. I nodded again.

“I’m removing the rag from your mouth. Please, don’t yell.” They took the rag out. “Regina, quietly say something so that I know you’re OK.”

“Thank you for not hurting me. I’m thinking of myself as quite a moron right now, and have since just a few minutes ago. Your words, however charged, and for whatever reason you’ve done this, rang true. It wasn’t a very safe thing to do. Nor was it a very smart thing to do. At least not alone. Especially not alone. I know I’m not responsible for making people do something wrong, but I’m attracting and almost inviting trouble. Not too bright, huh?”

“No, sweetie, it’s really not.” The voice had changed. It was a normal woman’s voice. “I’ll be honest. I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was dangerous, and either one of us might have been seriously hurt. I wanted to make a point, though, and I hope I did, Gina. Please tell me you aren’t hurt and that if I untie you, you won’t hate me.”

“No, Miss Fellows, I won’t hate you. I know now what you did. I think I know why you did what you did, too. We’ll see if it works or not. It probably will. I need to hug my Mom and Dad tonight and tell them I love them and I understand why they’re so mean and thoughtless to me, huh?” She may have seen a smile at that point. I loved my parents, even though they hated me and treated me like a child, telling me not to do any number of unsafe things. “We lived through it. Ma’am, you said you were very fond of me. Would you care to elaborate? That might mean any of several different things, depending. Also, it would be a bit easier to talk if you could untie me and loan me a pair of shorts and some panties. I’d sure appreciate it. I peed myself and this vinyl seat is not absorbing the urine at all. The shorts are, but the seat, not so much.”

“Oh, God, Gina, I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Shit! It was such a huge mistake. Let me get you untied and cleaned up. God, Gina, I’m so sorry. All I wanted was to help you protect yourself. I meant what I said. I am fond of you. Very fond. You’re bright. You’re beautiful. You have a wonderful outlook and friendly demeanor. You are so good around people. Everyone, regardless of who or what they are. I want ... Gina, I would like ... Gina, would you ... Oh, God, this is so hard to do. It’s so hard to say. It’s hard to ask. Please, please don’t hate me. Please, Gina?”