The Devil's Setlist.

What. The. Fuck.

It was all I could think about as it all happened and my flight instict kicked in. My mind locked out the outside world and was imprinted with it all. But I fled nonetheless...

What, what happened? What caused me to flee like that? What marked me?

Well, let's start from the beginning shall we?

Here I was going to the post office pick up some documents my aunt asked me to. So as I was going there I passed by the gass station and there were a bunch of guys who work there to fill out the tanks and wash or change the oil in the cars. When I passed by them they all called out to me. 

"Hey miss." and did kiss noises.

And all I thought was, 'Miss my ass. Get over yourselves you bunch of ugly monkeys.' and went my way with a smile on my face. Okay I SHOULDN'T be smilling but because I had those confidence issues I sort of got off on the attention people sometimes gave me on the street but as always I never answer back or give them any sign that I'm interested. 

It's always like that, I stare straight ahead and freeze inside myself just wanting to get away as far as possible from all the attention. And once I was away, I'd smile. Because of the attention, and I sort of revelled in it.

Okay I'm being a bit confusing. My point is everytime I get attention like that I remove myself from it and it's affects and then I absorb it and get it as a compliment, once I'm far away from it all. 

So here I was heading for the post office, a smile on my face, thinking about school in general and listening to my  songs and my lips moving on accord.

It took me a while to get there since the post office is about 20 minutes from my house. Maybe more, maybe less.

So I get there and there's this guy ahead of me. He's wearing a red shirt, jeans, and a cap. He is sort of chubby but not much,describing him as having a beer gut was more like it. So when he feels there's someone in there, me, he looks back and scoots to the side so that whoever is in the other side of the balcony could ask what I wanted.

So here is this guy, glacing sideways at me, and me from time to time glancing at him because I wanted to know why the heck this guy was looking at me. And when I catch a glimpse of him I see that he has his hands stuffed in his pants.

I freeze.

Ewww... here's this guy beside me, in the post-office, and he's scratching his balls? Come on! Besides him being in a public place he was standing right next to me, a 17 year old girl! What the fuck.

And all I could think about was, 'Well buddy I'm not shaking your hands if that's what you'll be asking' and looked straight ahead just bothered that this guy was doing THAT right beside me. But what conforted me was that if something was itching he'd scratch it and then he'd stop it.

In about a minute from there the clerk came and asked for my ID and went on to register that I'd picked out the order. And when I glance sideways again, the guy is stuffing his hand in his pants again. 

Okay weird. Why is this guy doing this? I thought.

Then, once again, I was expecting that to be the last time and then he'd stop. No such luck, the guy took out his hand and stuffed it down again and two more times... And I began to be really bothered by it. Like, really bothered.

OH My God! Why is this guy doing this.

Finally the clerk came and gave me a paper to sign and then gave me my package. When I turned to leave the guy quickly stuffed his hands down his pants once again and the he pulled out his... OMG, he pulled out his... THING.

And that's where I come back to the whole 'WTF freezing and running away' deal.

Oh. My. God.

Had that just really happened to me? Had that truly happened to me? 

I got out of the post office doing gag noises. There was just him and me there and the guys working behind the counter. Did they see it? Maybe not the counter was high enough that you could only see from the chest up.

I stared straight ahead, afraid to look back and see that the guy was following me. That he was going to catch me in a lonesome street and... No! I squeezed my eyes shut. That will never happen!

I pressed my foot on the sidewalk fastening my pace. 

OH GOD, NO!

Ewwwwww! Disgusting. OMG!!!!

When I crossed the next street and was far away enough I glanced back and saw the guy in the red shirt climbing up his bike and starting it.

Oh God.

He's going to come after me.

He's going to know where I live.

Pure dread consumed me and I began to break down on a cold sweat.

Maybe I could get inside one of the several stores there and wait for him to give up on me. My head was spinning a mile and hour and all I could think about was how dirty I felt from just seeing THAT.

What kind of sick twisted perverted bastard got off on something like that?

How can he do something like that?

In a public place, to a girl?

When I glanced back again, without stopping, the guy was gone. Not following me, he didn't even passed by me.

I took a steadying breath and continued on my way home.

I suddenly wished that I jut go home. That nothing else happened. Prayed that that psycho didn't follow me.

The shocked faces I made along the way awarded me with stares from people. The disgusted faces I made contorted my features. I could see my expressions on the shop windows.

Oh god. What if he's n still following me? I thought.

And kept glancing back expecting his a bike with a guy in a read T-shirt to come, and people probably thought that I was high or some shit. But I didn't care. Being safe is all I wanted to be.

And then I started to go after those thoughts, those unthinkable thoughts. Those that you get all scared of when you hear it happened to some other girl, but you never expect to happen to you.

I suddenly wished I was fat again. That I was unattractive. That I didn't bring out that sort of reaction on people. Then I looked down at what I was wearing. And was appalled. 

People that know me, know me for my trade mark style. Short skirts, short shorts, cleavege T-shirt and stuff. If I had pants on? Deep cleavage top. If I had short or skirts on? T-shirts covering all the goods.

But today? Today it was all different.

I was wearing jeans and a loose T-shirt that didn't show curves whatsoever. And still I had a jacket on so even my arms weren't showing. I was wearing boots so my feet weren't showing. The only thinks splayed out were my neck, face and hands.

And why did those guys at the gas station had that reaction toward me? Well easy to explain, I had passed by that gas station a number of times, so those guys were just playing and were harmless.

But what was the post-office freak' excuse?

None. He just was one of those demented, twisted, sick bastards, that got off on little stunts like that.

And me? Well I came the whole way home sweating cold, walking fast, making faces, scared shitless, glancing back, my thoughts racing like crazy and more importantly wanting to cry and puke at the same time.

When I was far away from the post-office and close enough from home I began to calm myself down a little more. 

But still always glancing back. Freaked out. Imagining the once impossible, but now, really possible and very real.

Pull yourself together, Aphrodite. I told myself as I got closer to home.

Once I was safe and sound I gave the first reliefed breath for the last twenty minuts or so, got in my room locked the door and sagged in my bed. And then I began to shake all over. But I did't cry. Not at all. I was just frozen. In shock.

So, what should I do? Should I tell my aunt? Should I tell somneone? I mean if I tell my aunt, there's nothing she could do. All she'll do is be concerned and tell everyone in my family what happened to me and they'll be freaked out, and never, EVER, I'll be able to leave the house again. Just for school and work.

What do you guys think?

I was thinking about self-defense classes.

But does that even exist here? Are they expensive? Will I have time to do them?

Help. Me...

I'm asking for help.

I still feel dirty and disgusted so I think I'm gonna... Take a shower now and cry a little bit while I'm scrubing myself to get that image outside of my head.