I have often wondered how I survived my 20’s through 30s. Surely I kept my protecting angel very busy with so many dangerous near death mishaps.
I was a Heroin addict with a dangerous job. I was a prostitute who worked for herself. I ran the gamut of prostitution all the way from street level hitchhiking to the best of the best high class exquisite hotels and appointment with the rich and wealthy.
I was a slave to my drugs. The getting of the money and the spending it. And I also had to have a friend by my side whose dope habit I usually supported as well. I generally did not like to steal from customers but there was one man who stayed at the Marriot who purposely laid out wades of cash and then went to sleep lol. As a test. A test which I was able to withstand the first two times. But couldn’t resist the third. The dope cravings were too strong. I wonder…had I passed the test would he have let me into his rich man’s club?
Nevertheless that’s not the story I want to tell. I want all women in recovery to know that we are as sick as our secrets. We need to process our emotional experiences with words like “I felt belittled, shamed, hurt” and so on. But don’t confide in someone who wears a mask of purity. The empathic healing only works when people say to you “I know how you feel, I have been hurt & shamed also” and mean it. That simple recipe is how an addict can move from dysfunctional to a functional emotional condition.
I went to Florida from Texas. My mom gave me a Pinto. It broke down on interstate 75. It was just a radiator leak and somehow I did end up getting it fixed. Though I don’t remember that part of the story.
The Story-The Car Broke Down in the Deep Woods of Georgia
I looked at the temperature gage, the needle jumped into the red hot zone. I knew if I kept driving the car block could crack or worse. So I pulled over and parked the car on the side of the interstate 75 somewhere in Georgia I think.
I managed to get a ride to the nearest gas station. Perhaps they picked up my car for me…I do not remember. I was on Valium or Xanax or both and I only remember the highlights of that day. Benzos tend to do that.
At the gas station I am guessing a spoke with the men who worked there. For some reason I needed to get back to the car after being at the gas station. Maybe all I had to do is get some water, & fill the radiator. Perhaps that’s why I needed a ride back to the car. I am guessing the car had to cool down and add water and I would be good to go. Keep in mind I was in the sticks. There were woods everywhere. This was rural. Not the city, not even a town anywhere in site.
Asking Strangers for a Ride While in the Boonies
There were two vehicles at the gas station for me to choose from for a ride. One big red neck looking pick up with a lift kit and two country boys inside. The second vehicle was a car with one black man inside. I was pretty, about 23 years old and not shy when it came to asking strange men for help or money.
Two Red Necks or One Black Man???
Did I choose wrong by selecting the two red necks? Maybe. Or maybe had I chosen the black man I wouldn’t be here today….I really have regretted my choice for many years. But today my spirit guides said, had I rode with the black man he may not have ever let me go.
I jumped into the truck with the two white men and I immediately regretted it. Why? I noticed I sat smack dab down on a bottle of Jack Daniels nearly empty. They were loaded with Jack D. Men become very unreasonable when drunk and knew that. They took the northbound exit toward my car. And as we got to my car they sped up and passed it by. “stop here, stop here, that’s my car!!!!” I told them excitedly. One of the men grabbed my hair, pulled it from the back of my head and said, “we can do this the hard way or the easy way.” I knew I was fucked…quite literally. But I really didn’t suspect that one of the men would be bent on killing me after they did the do.
They Turned Down A Long Dirt Road
I think these men had done this before, many times. I immediately asked them “Okay, what do ya’ll desire? I am a prostitute anyway and am used to servicing strangers”. They wanted sex, one at a time. Just regular sex. Nothing horrible, no anal. None of the painful stuff or twisted stuff. So as I had sex with the first one the second man waited outside the truck. They were probably not much older than me. Guessing about 25 years old. They weren’t bad looking either.
I Was Compliant & Gave Them What They Wanted.
Instinctively not only was I compliant but I worked at making friends with them, especially with one of them who was more receptive to kindness than the other. I let him know during and after sex that I had to get to Texas and I despised cops and would not be going to no dang police station in bum-fuck Georgia to tell the cops some rape story. That most likely they will blame me for anyway for the way I am dressed, or for hitch hiking etc. I spoke to the one guy a scenario of me having to be hold up in some hotel or station for months waiting for some court date. It just wouldn’t work. And he seemed to be listening. He seemed to like me. I won his trust by instinct.
Sex Time Was Over and Deliberation Had Begun
And a long deliberation it was. I sat in the truck for what seemed to be an hour while the two men argued outside the truck deciding my fate. One man wanting me dead. Leave no witnesses. And the other showing compassion….”she’s not like the others” being his case. Still it would be a risk for them to leave me alive. Personally I think the one guy must have enjoyed killing woman more than he enjoyed the rape. The rape wasn’t violent enough for him no doubt. Not violent at all.
Why didn’t I run? They would have hunted me down like a deer. And then I wouldn’t have had any chance of surviving. God forbid they used bows, hunting me with arrows. Or a shot gun blast that would wound me leaving me alive suffering. Why didn’t you fight? Fighting two men would have been pointless and again, they would have killed me had I fought them. Had I fought I would not have been able to befriend the one who literally saved my life after raping me. Quite the paradox.
Well, long story short amazingly they finally came to a decision in my favor. “Life and mercy for the prostitute, life and mercy”
Ladies who relate to this story.
I have fully processed the emotions attached to this story. Oddly I am proud of the way I handled such a dire situation. But I cannot take credit for my life.
It was almost like I was on auto pilot. It was like God came into me and showed me the program to follow to save my life. He gave me the words.
“Oh but Laura if that’s the case why didn’t God save you from the rape all together?” Well perhaps there was some lesson in it for the two men.
Especially for the man who saved my life him showing mercy. Imagine on judgement day when he stands before God…he will have on the roster of life “saved a true child of God from a wicked and violent brutal death” & also on his roster of life “raped a child of God”.
In hind sight, I would forgiven the man who saved my life if it were up to me. I really would. As for the other guy who would have slaughtered me like a deer rather than fear prosecution…lets hope I am not his judge in the end of days.
But wait…should I not show the same mercy that was shown to me? My heart is not fit to judge mankind. Let God be there judge, He has the insight to rightly judge and can see into a man’s heart.
How about this one? “Laura E. since you didn’t hunt down a have your rapists jailed and allowed the would be murderers to carry on they were free to kill again no doubt. That’s true. But on the other hand what if the one guy turned from his ways and separated himself from the bad man? Its not my job to rid the earth of murderers and I didn’t have the resources to do so at that time. Not even close. By the way this happened back when woman were being killed in N. Florida interstates and they had to put security guards at every rest area in Florida. Maybe it was these two guys who were killing so man woman. Maybe that’s why there were out in the boonies to begin with.
If that’s the case, then its a miracle that I survived. An absolute miracle. I do not exaggerate when I tell you those men argued for an hour about my fate while I sat. Had I not been high on Xanex now called Xanax (Mandela effect) I may not have been able to handle the ordeal so calmly.
I thank God for my life. Thank you Jesus!!!!!