When I was nineteen, I went to my boyfriend's house two days before New Year's Eve. He had the mumps, so I went to his house instead of going out, to take care of him. I arrived at his apartment around 2 p.m.
I was nervous as I drove to his apartment. I didn't know why. I was wary and kept looking all around me as I walked to his place. Anxious thoughts kept popping into my mind. I could not stop them. My boyfriend lived on the third floor of an old mansion in downtown Milwaukee.
As I walked up the stairs, I turned suddenly and looked behind me. I thought, "Is someone there?" I told myself to stop being paranoid; there was nothing to fear. I climbed another flight of stairs, and again, I turned around and looked down the stairs. I thought, "Is he coming now?"
When I entered the apartment, my boyfriend said hello. But when he touched my arm, I jumped back. He was surprised. He said, "What's wrong with you? I touched your arm, and you jumped ten feet." I said, “I didn't know.” He said again, "What's wrong with you?" I said, “I didn't know.” Upset, he said forcefully, "Jackie, what's wrong with you?"
I said, "I keep thinking someone wants to rape me." Sam looked annoyed. He said, "You women are all the same. You think every man wants to rape your body. Look, I love you, but even I wouldn't climb three flights of stairs to rape you."
I cooked him dinner. Then I left around 7:30 p.m. As I drove home, thoughts kept popping into my mind again. I looked at a guy standing on a street corner and thought, "Are you going to be the one (to rape me)?" I kept scolding myself and telling myself to stop acting crazy. Then I would see another man and think, "Maybe it's going to be you."
I lived with my parents in a lower flat, and my grandparents lived in the upper flat. It was an older house in an older neighborhood. Behind each row of houses was an alley, and every house had a garage behind it, accessed through the alley.
I drove into the dark alley. The garage door was open; my parents usually kept it closed. My grandfather must have opened it for me because it was pretty heavy, and he knew I would be coming home soon. The light was off.
I drove in, turned off the car's engine, and exited. Ours was a two-car garage. I was standing between my grandfather's car and my parent's car, which I had been driving. I took my finger off the lock after I closed the car door.
As I turned to leave the garage, a man stood up. He had been waiting for me, hiding between my grandfather's car and the garage wall. I gasped and thought, "Looks like I'm not paranoid; I'm psychic. The guy who wants to rape me is here."
The man was large, very tall, and muscularly built. He was dressed entirely in black. He wore a black skull cap pulled down to his eyes, a black turtleneck sweater pulled up to his eyes, and a long black leather jacket. All I could see were his eyes.
I didn’t want to face reality, but I forced myself to. "OK,” I thought, “the reality is: He is a psychotic rapist, and you're going to be lucky to get out of the garage alive."
With that thought, I faced reality, but now I was frozen stiff! I couldn't move. I forced myself to unfreeze. Now, I was brave and ready for the fight of my life.
The assailant moved towards the garage door. I thought, "You mustn't let him get the door down. If he does, it's all over." I ran to stop him or get out of the garage. We met in the middle of the door. He put me in a headlock with one arm, and then he gagged me with the other arm. Then, the assailant said, "Now, honey, I've got to do this, and if you cooperate, you won't get hurt."
I didn’t know what to do. I had read an article in NOW (National Organization of Women) magazine that said if a man wants to rape you, you should let him. Otherwise, he might kill you. I couldn't breathe, and I didn't want him to snap my neck off, so I stopped struggling and pretended to cooperate. He let me go.
Suddenly, I heard a loud voice say, "No, you’re not going to cooperate." I looked up and saw a man in a white light, about 60 years old, with white hair, a white beard, and a white robe floating face down in the upper corner of the garage. The man said, "He intends to perform an evil act, and you must stop him." Then he pointed at me and said even louder, sternly. "You must fight evil!"
I thought, “What is this!” "Am I imagining my conscience floating in the corner of the garage?" I don't think I was imagining this. I believe this was the guardian angel warning me of danger for hours before the attack. I was badly injured by the assailant but even though I was only 110 pounds and my attacker weighed about 220 pounds, I managed to fight him off. I found out years later this attack was planned by a female in my extended family. Scheduled at the time of the month I was most likely to conceive. The fact that I was able to fight off the attacker saved me from having an unwanted pregnancy. So, the angel helped me when he told me to resist.
Since the assault was in the family, my parents didn’t tell the police. Therefore, the perpetrator of the crime got away with it. Many years later, a thought popped into my mind when I was doing my laundry. “Hey, so and so, your times up, the devils coming for you now and he’s going to take you to hell with him.” I didn’t know why I thought that. I dismissed it, thinking I must have watched the movie “Ghost” once too often. A couple of hours later, my sister called and told me she had some bad news. “So and so, the culprit, died suddenly.” I think God wanted me to know that although the perpetrator got away with the crime on earth, he saw what she did and was going to deal with her.