The Rapist - Pt. 2

"I'm leaving" she says to me matter-of-fact.

It's a few days later. I assume that she can't stomach being across the hall from the guy who she believes raped her friend. She gives me a quick hug and thanks me for listening to her the other day. I stand there. Helpless.

There was nothing I could do.

I believe her. Why would she lie? In a menial effort to make up for the fact that her first week of school was completely ruined; and I couldn't do anything to stop that -- I offer to help her carry the rest of her stuff down to the moving van.

She's fine, she says. Her brother is here. I walk her back to her room. It's empty. There's only three boxes left by the front door.

The door to the dorm room of the girl he is now dating is closed. I'm worried about her. She's young -- naive.

We say goodbye one more time; and then she's gone. I never see her again. To this day, I can't remember her name.

I head back to my room. The knot in my stomach hasn't disappeared. This year is turning out to be the complete opposite of what I had hoped it would be.

I didn't come back to residence so I could be quasi-haunted by some creepy guy from my past. This was a nightmare -- a really bad after school special.

I came back to residence to (more or less) make up for the time the year before that he ruined. I wanted a good year. A year without him spreading rumours about me. A year where I could just have fun.

The year before was a living nightmare. He told everyone that would listen that I was crazy -- and basically set out to destroy me. When that didn't seem to work; he decided that he would start dating a girl on my floor. At the time, I didn't think too much of it. Was he creepy? For sure. Insensitive? Absolutely. But, despite his efforts to knock me down, I wasn't going to play into it by being the proverbial victim. I tried to rise above it; and when the opportunity presented itself to come back and start all over again -- I did.

But here I was...not two weeks into school; and he's back on my floor -- dating another girl.

I lived in an all girls' residence. The only way (really) a man could be on your floor was to date someone -- and consistently stay over.

I was starting to feel like I couldn't breathe. This was pattern. Two years in a row. Two girls on my floor. Both two doors down. I started to dissect the year prior. Obsessive hatred of me...which led to nasty rumours...which then prompted him to be within earshot of me? Two doors down from the person you thought was crazy? I thought about it a bit...why would someone who thought I was crazy -- start to put themselves in my presence? And, even if it was a coincidence -- why be on my floor all the time. You hate me, right? I'm crazy, right? It didn't make any sense.

There was pattern. Two girls. Both a few doors down. Both in an all-female residence. Both after he supposedly was really angry with me.

But somehow...I couldn't let my mind go there. Somehow, the nightmare of being called crazy the year before (which was unfounded) dissuaded me from having any negative thoughts. If I pointed my finger and harked the truth, I would surely be called crazy again; or worse -- jealous.

I tried to shake it off and rise above it. Maybe this was just a series of coincidences?

I headed to my next class in an effort to try and forget about it all. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I do read into things a bit too much -- after all; I have an active imagination. So what if he starts dating the girl two doors down three seconds after I tell him to stay the hell out of my life? It doesn't mean anything does it?

I find a seat near the back of the auditorium. I pull out my binder to read the syllabus. When I look up he is sitting next to me.

"Hi" he says. Smiling. He acts as if nothing is wrong. He acts as if it's completely normal for him to show up in an elective class ~ one that I'm pretty sure he doesn't need to take.

This was getting freaky.

I take a deep breath. "Hi", I say back. I learned last year to not ignore him. Ignoring him spawned rumours about me. I felt I really had no choice. I was weak.

"What are you doing in this class?" I ask. He answers, but my mind is whirling with a million different thoughts -- all of them potentially crazy -- which I don't want to be. I can't hear a thing he is saying.

The class was only part way through, when I excused myself. I stood, apologized to the people I had to step over to get to the aisle; ignored the sarcastic comment from the Prof about me taking over the lecture -- and walked right out the doors.

I dropped that class 5 minutes later.

Ten minutes after that I was frantically knocking on the door to my Don. Was she home? I needed to talk to someone. Either I was loosing my mind in some soon-to-be really good Julia Roberts movie; or something was seriously askew.

I was having trouble collecting my thoughts.

She opened the door. She looked pissed. I walked inside, crumpled on her couch and began to cry. I didn't know where else to go. She was here (and paid) to offer counselling if we needed it. I figured that at the very least she would be a sounding board to my problem -- offer me a clear perspective.

When I finished telling her everything I could through the tears and the snot, she stood up; looked me straight in the eyes and said, "I'm not going to sit here and tolerate this emotional blackmail".

What? How was I blackmailing her? I came to her with a problem. I need help...advice. I was blackmailing her? Does this mean that I'm reading to much into everything? That maybe I am crazy?

She ushers me out of her room and slams the door.

Months later she was fired for having (and I'm loosely paraphrasing here) "serious emotional issues". My psychological retribution didn't come until the following spring. Her firing offered me solace that I wasn't crazy, emotionally manipulative, or wrong.

But for now, this wasn't the spring -- and I didn't have the benefit of hindsight. The damage was done. I had gone to her in a moment of weakness -- uncertain about my perspective on a situation; and she shut me down.

So, I resigned to discount my crazy thoughts and make the most of the school year. Sure, I hadn't planned on having him two doors down -- but I could rise above it, right? I was emotionally unstable. It was all in my head.

Everything was fine.