Strangers on a train of thought

She was at an off-campus party. Her boyfriend wasn’t. That jerk! She had told him about this, over a week ago, but earlier tonight he had some lame excuse about promises he made to “the guys” about something. This was the last big party before graduation! And here she was all alone.

She was on her third drink and her fourth text to her boyfriend when HE sat down next to her. He looked like a townie. More mature. Good clothes, smokin' hot eyes, warm smile that just sucked her in. He remarked that she looked upset. Could he get her another drink? Did she want to talk about it?

They sat and talked. He was just so good at listening! She felt like she was making a connection with a real adult, someone who understood her. When he asked her to slowdance she did; she liked the way he held her, confident but not grabby. When he leaned over and kissed her, it was soft and sweet.

He offered to walk her back to her place. They strolled along, taking their time, when he suddenly realized they were only a block from his apartment. Would she like to come back for a nightcap?

Graduation was coming soon. Real life and her first real job were less than a month away. She thought of her boyfriend and all the ways he never treated her like she deserved. This might be her last chance at a one-night college romance. She said yes.

His apartment wasn’t as nice with the lights on. After he got their drinks, he turned them off. She couldn’t remember later what sort of liquor they had; it tasted strong and messed with her head and stomach. She started to feel dizzy and confused, so her jeans were halfway off before she realized what was happening.

She told him no. She told him no again. Eventually she stopped saying anything and just waited for it to be over.

He called her a cab and gave her a twenty to cover it. He told her to be careful getting home. She barely remembered getting home and collapsing into bed. The next morning she found she had lost her panties at some point.

She never told anyone. She felt guilty and ashamed. Initially she blamed herself, but then she realized her boyfriend should have been there, should have been where he’d promised he’d be, should have protected her. She was angry with him until graduation, taking any opportunity to pick a fight. At graduation she told him that once she had her diploma, she never wanted to see him again.

Her new job was in another city. She didn’t know anyone there, and family was hours away. Everyone at work knew everyone else. There was a creepy guy in Accounting who seemed to be stalking her; rather than risk confronting him, she quit and went back home.

Her grandmother died. Her ex-boyfriend came to the funeral. On the receiving line she went into a screaming rage, incoherent, blaming “everything” on him.

Her parents’ doctor put her on anti-anxiety medication. She started stealing pain medication from her dad’s medicine cabinet; when that wasn’t enough she found someone who could get heroin for her. When they found her —

Stop.

Rewind.

She was at an off-campus party. Her boyfriend wasn’t. That jerk! She had told him about this, over a week ago, but earlier tonight he had some lame excuse about promises he made to “the guys” about something. This was the last big party before graduation! And here she was all alone.

She was on her third drink and her fourth text to her boyfriend when she felt a shiver go down her back, like a ghost had just walked through her. She looked around but didn’t see anything unusual. She spotted a couple of her friends over by the bar; they hung out for awhile, then her boyfriend showed up, mumbling and apologetic.

They ended up back at his place, but his behavior that night was just another nail in the coffin of their relationship. At the end of their post-graduation party she told him she cared about him, and he’d always be special, but with her new job in a new city she felt they needed some time apart to sort things out. They both cried.

She didn’t know anyone in the city where her new job was, but she made friends with the older couple across the hall from her flat and they showed her around. Her job was great, once she learned how things worked. Some jerk in Accounting was a total asshole and kept hitting on her, but she talked to HR about him and he made himself scarce.

Her grandmother died a few months after she graduated. Her ex-boyfriend showed up at the funeral (her mom confessed to inviting him). He sat with her during the ceremony and held her hand, pulling tissues out of his pocket when she needed one. Afterwards they sat and talked. He said he missed her. That a day didn’t go by when he didn’t think of her. He seemed to have grown up a lot since they broke up. She told him —

Stop.

Explanation.

There are bad people. Bad men. They hurt women. You don’t know them, but you know their victims. Or you do know them, but what can you do? Victims won’t press charges, and can you blame them?

There are other bad men. You don’t know them, or their victims. But I do.

Let us say we meet together, you and I, strangers on a train of thought. Not in person. No place where our tattletale phones put us together. Not in a way that leaves webbed strands of evidence in the light.

I give you a name. An address. Evidence of evil deeds. Names of people ruined. Convenient dates and times when events can… unfold.

You give me yours.

And at a convenient date and time, someone has… bad luck. A random mugging. An unfortunate traffic accident. A disappearance. I am not suspected. And if I am, well, I happen to have alibis, witnesses, selfies of where I was at the time.

These things happen.

And then other things do not.

We cannot fix the lives that were broken. But we can shatter the link in the chain.

And maybe she will feel a shiver down her back, like a ghost walked through her. And then she—whoever she may be, whoever she deserves to be — gets on with her life.

Fiction, of course. Purely fiction. Not based on anything in real life. And I can prove where I was at the time.