It wasn’t until I read an article on NecoleBitchie.com regarding a controversial song by Rick Ross, that I decided to share my experience. Silence is just as deadly as ignorance is bliss. Rick Ross and his supporters are plenty ignorant.
At 23, I was confident and in my own right successful. After a long week, an evening out with a girlfriend was music to my ears. In Dallas, sophisticated nightlife almost always includes one of the many hot spot, swanky restaurants. One in particular, an uptown favorite and staple, never has a shortage of excitement or energy.
Even though I lived less than two miles away, I called a cab to carry me to the restaurant since drinking would definitely be in my near future. Shortly after I arrived, my friend showed up as well. Dressed to the nines, we caused quite the scene as the general manager seated us in one of the most coveted areas of the restaurant. The night was starting out good.
Before the appetizers arrived a server, that wasn’t working in our area, informed us that a gentleman would like to buy our first round of drinks. We politely said thank you and declined. It was a girl’s night out and we were on our own dime, not looking for any interruptions. Towards the end of dinner, a beautiful presentation of Cristal was sent over to our table and delivered by the sommelier, compliments of another patron in the restaurant. Initially we were going to send the bottle back along with another thank you, but the wine steward convinced us to accept and enjoy it.
The night was still young and we were having a great time. Not wanting to be rude, we each sipped on about half a glass of the champagne. During the time it took for our check to come, we decided to graciously walk over and say thank you to the boisterous man. Surprisingly, he did not make any petty attempts to hit on us other than to say, “a beautiful bottle for two beautiful women”.
Around the corner, there was a popular and difficult to get in upscale lounge that was a common destination for the steakhouse patrons. Since we’d only had a glass of wine and a half glass of champagne, my friend decided to go ahead and move her car over to the lounge. While waiting at the very busy valet stand, the same generous man walked up and without saying anything, one of the valets ran to retrieve his vehicle. Before it arrived, we hopped in my friend’s car and headed around the corner.
Without a problem, we were graciously escorted into the lounge. Just as girls do, the first stop was the restroom to check our hair and makeup. When we walked back in the main area, we of course made a b line for the bar. The music fresh and energetic; it was still a good night. Naturally, being in my neighborhood, I ran into several people that I knew. A little small talk here in there was distracting enough that I hadn’t noticed that Mr. Generous had showed up with a group of people and were seated at a table in the velvet roped area. He caught my eye a couple of times and smiled. I eventually returned a somewhat flirty smile and then quickly turned back towards the bar.
In a moments notice, the bartender who was also noticeably fond of my admirer poured a glass of Cristal and sat it in front of me with a smile and a nod (looking towards the velvet roped area). In the meantime, my friend had disappeared back to the ladies room on the phone. Within a few minutes she returned, but visibly disturbed. The phone call, she said was her sitter informing her that her son was really sick. Barely two years into motherhood myself, I was completely sympathetic to her situation. Since I’d taken a cab earlier, I told her not to worry about taking me back. I was close to home and in my own environment.
Still holding the same glass of champagne, I walked over to Mr. Generous and lipped, “Thank you again”, as talking over the loud music was impossible. I yet again returned to my corner of the bar with the same glass of Cristal. Just as the bartender motioned to refill my glass, I placed my hand over the top because I wasn’t quite finished with what was already in it.
With immense subtlety, one of the many faces of Molly introduced herself and that’s when everything faded to black and Molly took me on a date. It was as if it were the beginning of a new scene in my own horror movie. With vague and blurred moments, I here a cell phone ringing but it sounds as though it was under water. Fighting to just open my eyes and focus, I saw flashes of light and felt cold bursts of air. No, I wasn’t dying. Through piecing intricate pieces together, it became clear I was left laying face down on the concrete on a private street. Just a few steps away from the censored sliding door of a motel in a small town outside of Dallas, I was roughly 20 miles away from where I lived. Each time the censors were triggered, a burst of cool air and rays of light covered my seemingly lifeless body.
An alarmed employee of the chain motel, called 911. Unsure of why I was laying in the street, I can only guess the clerk assumed that I was a drunken person trespassing on their private property. It took me years to come to that conclusion, otherwise why would the police department arrive without the complement of medical help.
Needless to say, my first clear memories were hours later when I woke up freezing cold and to my surprise on the ice-cold floor of a jail cell. Immediately I felt a panic attack starting to arise. Somehow, before it sat in. I lunged for the phone on the wall and dialed the only number that I could remember without thinking. It was just after midnight in Denver when someone I’d later marry, accepted my collect call. Escaped of any answers myself and quite frankly full of questions, I remember trying to hold it (whatever “it” was) together.
I realized there were two other women, very strange women in the tank with me. He told me to ask them where were we and what city were we in. After my politeness failed to urge them to speak, the warrior bitch arose out of nowhere and shouted to the top of my lungs, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE?” Quickly, answers started blurting out. I relayed the information I was given back over the phone. That’s when calmness settled in. It was as if a gust of wind had blown into that cell. All of a sudden, the residue of that panic attacked was gone. Though he’d been there all along, God made it very evident that He was there in the cell with me. He had to have been there for me to get away with yelling at those two “gi-normous” girls and making them cower back away from me (just saying, lol).
After several phone calls from Denver to the police station, all of a sudden the tables started to turn. I was released at 8AM the next morning. Not knowing if I had been sexually assaulted, I immediately called for a cab and went to the hospital. One of my dearest friends and still best friends met me there. If you’ve ever had a rape kit done, then you know it’s one of the most intrusive and invasive tests you can have done after such a terrifying ordeal. Instead of retrieving the usual specimen of a rape kit, they to everyone’s surprise retrieved a tampon. I had forgotten. It was determined that I had not been raped and that the tampon actually more than likely saved me from being further assaulted.
Finally the test results had come back and that’s when Molly revealed her ugly face. It was a sophisticated cocktail that had found its way inside of me. While MDMA was very present, significant traces of Flunitrazepam (rohypnol), also known as Ruffie, was found in my system as well. The two combined, is often a very deadly combination. I couldn’t believe that this had happened and even more so, I didn’t understand how.
Talk about God’s grace. I’m a strong believer in Christ. While I may not walk a perfect narrow line, I do have a relationship with Him. I know without a shadow of a doubt, it was God’s angels keeping me covered. Not only would I have been raped but also, all signs pointed to me not waking up ever again. As with most cases such as this one it’s very difficult to bring the attacker to justice. The attention quickly shifted to the small town police department and how they handled the situation. More twist and turns are in this story in which they will be published in a book based on my life.
If you have been sexually abused/assaulted or raped, PLEASE don’t sit back and stay silent. There is power in our voices. If you’re blessed enough to be able to read this, then you have the power to save a life. Please contact The Rape Crisis Center at www.rapecrisis.com for help and information. In the meantime, know that I’ll be praying for you.