Midnight Rape

Tired last night from a lovely day in Golden Gate Park, I fell asleep early, snuggled in the linen sheets and light, cotton blanket on my bed, my window slightly ajar. I’ve grown so accustomed to the street noise that drifts up my way – the cars passing on the busy street half a block up, the low rumble of cars pulling up to the curb, doors shutting, the small amount of foot traffic on my street - apartment dwellers returning from the bar and restaurant scene within walking distance of my roost and teenagers, strolling in the middle of the street, giggling and sometimes whispering in loud, tipsy voices as they head home, no doubt well past their curfew.

But last night I was awakened from a dead sleep by a young woman’s voice, calling out from the street “RAPE! HELP! RAPE!” I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand, sprang out of bed to the window and peered down into the street. I saw and heard nothing. I hollered out, “HELLO? WHO”S DOWN THERE? “ There was no answer. For a moment, a moment only, I thought – maybe a prank. But I couldn’t take the risk – I dialed 911 and within moments, a patrol car was cruising up the street, then slowed near my apartment building, spotlight on, trolling the shadows.

I went down to the street to talk with the officers. Told them my tale. They walked the street, heavy flashlights in hand, beaming a strong light into bushes, cars, doorsteps, stairwells. They knocked on doors, searched the construction site across the way, gained admittance to the apartment building across the street and I could see through the building’s windows the light of their flashlights going this way and that as they walked the hallways and listened for sounds of distress.

But they found nothing. Whoever had sent out that initial cry had disappeared, or was silenced in some way – either through her own volition, or coercion, or force.

The cops left; I returned to bed, yet I refused to shut and lock my window. I refuse to live in fear on my own street. But I slept badly the rest of the night, tossing and turning and wondering about the young woman whose voice I heard so clearly: “RAPE! HELP! RAPE!”