Chapter 1: Stalker

For a few months I've been trying to get this guy to leave me alone. For awhile it worked.

I remember when we first met. Bob Smiley was performing, and a girl named Christina had invited him to come watch him, so Matt came (because she's pretty.) We sat next to each other and cracked up. Afterwards we talked a bit, and I said he should come back. 2 weeks later he did. we talked, and we had alot of things in common. We both liked Evanescence and country music. He also confessed to me that he cut. I (being the empathic I am) felt sorry for him and said that he didn't have to do that. He invited me to his birthday party that following weekend and I came. I thought "Finally, a guy I can just hang out with."

That's where it went downhill. The party.

Luckily he didn't try and make any moves on me, but he did seem to be more...friendly. I waved the worried thoughts away, thinking it was no big deal. He touched my leg a few times, my arms too, softly, but that was it. I'd shrug his hand away and he'd stop for a bit.

The following Wednesdays, he became more and more touchy-feely. my face, my leg, my shoulders, back, knees, hair, arms, hands, calves, stomach...I'd tell him to stop (this was all during youth-group, during worship or the message) and he would for a few seconds...but he'd start right back up again.

I started thinking "oh my god...this is not happening...again..."

I decided to take action. My action was...no action. Don't go to church, don't go outside (he said he knew where I lived.) Don't answer the phone (I had called him to ask where his house was) delete him from my myspace (along with his sister, who had asked me out several times too.) and just stay inside. No grocery stores (he could be lurking in the Electronics isle at wal-Mart!!) no church (he waited in the hall for me) No outside, nothing.

Just. Stay. Put.

I became paranoid, obsessed with making sure I never went anywhere he might be. I had nightmares of him touching me, those wild, cold blue eyes looking at me accusingly, asking me where I've been, why I didn't talk to him anymore.

But ala, Wednesday came again. I had to go to church. My mother made me.

I got sick. Pale skin. Shaky hands. Bloodshot eyes. The kids in my church gave me worried looks. But nobody asked except Jake M.

"Kayla, are you okay?"

I shook my head, and then bought a t-shirt from him.

Matt found me. I heaved and said "I don't feel very well." and ran to the bathroom. I didn't get sick, but I just waited there until service started. I came out, and there he was, waiting for me.

I didn't talk, just went and sat down. Back row. Like always.

And it started.

First,he'd lean his head on me. I'd shrug it off. Then he'd scoot closer and run his finger up and down my thigh. I'd brush his hand away. He'd caress my shoulder. I'd move my arm. I'd say "Quit it, alright? I'm trying to concentrate." and he'd stop.

Next song, though, he'd start up again. Same routine. Same reaction from me. Next song, same thing. when the message came, I'd pretend to be engrossed in the sermon when I was really concentrating on keeping his hands off of me. He'd inch his hand over to me, and the whole time I'm trying to figure out why he's doing this.

I would say no male has ever touched me like that but...that would be a lie.

I never can understand why people want to hurt each other, especially in a personal way like that.

This went on for a few Wednesdays. Maybe he thought it was okay. But I don't. That night was the final straw.

The following weekend I was going to Colorado on a ski trip with my church group for Spring Break. A few nights before, I learn that my mom had told Jake to watch over me. I was grateful for the thought, but I wanted to take care of this myself. so I approached him.

I was nervous. I had kept to myself mostly, and the last time i had talked to Jake, I was apologizing for throwing a snowball at his crotch--and hitting my mark. That was the beginning of the week. It was now the last day, and we had stopped at CiCi's on the way home.

"Jake, uhm...can I talk to you?"

"Sure." he put anothe slice of pizza on his plate. "What's up?"

I swallow. "Uh...I know my mom asked you to watch over me, but I just wanted you to know that you're not obliged to do anything and she only wants what's best for me and I hope you don't feel any obligations to help me out or anything because if you don't I totally understand and I guess that's what I wanted to say." I more or less sputter.

His answer shocked me. alot. I nearly fainted.

"No, I want to." (WHAA??)

I said "HUH?" (I really did.)

He replied, a little heated "You know, it really pisses me off when guys do things to a girl that she doesn't like. You don't need to be treated like that. I'll help you out, and it's because I want to. I'll do what I can."

I nearly started crying. At this point, I knew not all guys were evil, conniving, sadistic and horny bastards. I just didn't think I knew any decent guys.

I said (stuttered) "Thank you! You have no clue...oh my god...just..thank you."

He smiled. "No problem."

I got more pizza (victory slice!) and sat down. I used that time to compose myself and thank my Heavenly Father that I knew Jake M.

he helped. He really did. Not only did he talk to me when Matt would get too close (he has eyes like a hawk, haha.) But he'd just hang close. Or he'd call me over to talk to him. He'd message me on myspace and tell me not to worry, if I wanted him to say something to Matt, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

But, like all heroes, Jake couldn't be everywhere.

The drama died down. Matt got the hint and left me alone. In came a new villian. His sister. Melissa. This time, I tried to be a hero on my on, and not need a knight in shining white armor.

Melissa asked me what why Matt and i weren't talking. She said he wanted to know. I said "Okay. You'd look so much better as a white blonde."

I guess she thought I was hitting on her, because she giggled. I then walked away and sat in my seat. Away from Matt, melissa, and their posse.

for the next few weeks, I'd come in late, sit down in the most available seat, and run out right after the message. avoid him at all costs. even though I missed my church friends, I couldn't let him ge to me. Not physically at least.

Today though....No sister. No Jake either. Just my friends alyssa and Danielle. But even though they're heroes too, they can't be everwhere. During the greeting, he made his way over to me. I turned around and greeted an newcomer. Someone waylaid him. I ran to the other side of the rom and greeted another person. he tried to follow me, but another person greeted him. I repeated this until it was time to sit.

And afterwards, I didn't run. I signed up for VBS drama.

Then I ran.

Out the doors, up the stairs, and almost into a few people. I was panting at the top, but satisfied that I got away.

But here I am now, at 2 am, typing this all, because I'm afraid to go to sleep.

I've been sexually assaulted twice before this. Once when I was 5, another when I was 12. I remember I had a dream about it when I was 5, bu when I was 12...it nearly drove me nuts. I questioned everythng--my life, my sexuality, my faith, the existance of God--Everything. I was so confused and lost...

But I know God never gives us more than we can handle. I knew that if this was being thrown at me, surely I'd cath it and handle it with care.

So half an hour later, I am not typing because I am afraid, I'm typing to get all of this out. The biggest mistake I always make is assuming that nobody will listen. Even if I tell10 people, and only 1 listens to me, that's still a person I can trust. That's my big thing. trust. I didn't trust my mom with this information. I didn't tell my parents abut this, and they were telling me if I liked him, it was okay to date him. I didn't let anyone know what was going on until it was too late. I didn't trust Jake to help me, I didn't trust my youth leader to step in, I didn't trust my family to be there for me, and most of all, I didn't trust God.

I should know by now, if there's anoyone who should be trusted, it's God.

What a sad human being I am. No trust, always paranoid, always wondering whether one day I'll pul one brick out and maybe, just mabe, let another person look inside my cold, dark small living space I call a heart, where I cower under the covers like I did whe I was 5. Maybe, one day I will. Maybe that person will bring a flashlight and a blanket and a box of tissues.

Maybe that person has already come, but I don't want to pull out my brick.