“Just trust me.” Those were the last words she said to me. I should’ve walked away right then and there.

On that late July morning the cool fog lingered over the quiet town. My mom and I lived with her boyfriend that had a daughter a year older than me. Morgan and I played Polly Pockets sun rise to sun set together, and both loved gymnastics. On this particular day no one was outside.

Sick of playing inside, my sister Morgan and I decided to go to the park across the street to practice our gymnastics on the bar. We walked outside and you could see the thick fog hovering above the dew on the grass. It must’ve been a Saturday morning because the neighborhood was silent, full of sleepy humans. The smell of freshly cut grass whipped past us as we ran toward the playground. We started out playing hot lava; if your feet touched the ground you were dead. Slowly swaying on the monkey bars, I glanced down at my feet; I was wearing my favorite sparkly blue sandals. Feeling the cold metal on my palms, I saw a man on a bike out of the corner of my eye but continued to play.
“Come look at this bug!” Morgan said running toward the hopscotch course.

I hate bugs, but I ran over to her anyway. My pink camouflage capris were getting dusty from the chalk on the pavement, but I didn’t mind.
Once again I acknowledged a man speeding across the side walk on a black mountain bike. That’s when I started to think it was a little weird he passed by us two times already. I felt a strange feeling of fear in the air that took over my whole body when I realized he was riding toward us. Playing with the tiny rocks that got stuck between my little toes, trying not to stare at him slowing gliding across the grass, something flipped a switch in me.

“Can we go? That guy is making me feel weird.” I said picking the pebbles out of my sandals.

“Don’t worry Lauren, I see this guy all the time when I’m at school just trust me.” Morgan said as she flipped around and around on the bar.

The man was getting closer, and my heart raced like a sports car. My palms became sweaty with nerves. We were always taught to never talk to or associate with strangers. The man halted about 4 feet from where we stood frozen. The cool air was instantly gone and a fire inside me arose. We didn’t move, and then I noticed that his “parts” were out of his pants. So shocked and scared, I had no idea what to even do.
“Come over here.” The man said with a sick, evil in his voice.

The man grabbed Morgan’s hand and his grip was locked, but my instincts took over my body and my legs were moving. My aqua blue sequin sandals stayed on my feet better than I thought they would. I was slipping and sliding all over the damp grass but I never looked back. I don’t remember a time when I’ve ever ran that fast in my life. Before I was half way across the park yard I heard Morgan scream and the man finally let go of her, she was quickly right on my heals.

Before I could even reach the deck of the big, boxy, white, house my brother Preston burst outside and wrapped his arms around my shaking body. I was so scared, hysterically crying. We tried to tell everyone what happened but the words just weren’t there. It was like we were mutes trying to talk on the phone, nothing came out.

After about 20 minutes we finally calmed down enough to say what had happened, soon after my mom called the police and they arrived quickly at the house. Sitting on the cold black leather couch, they asked for the description of the man but it happened too fast.

“All I can remember was that he was on a bike, had on glasses, a hat, had dark hair, and a beard.” I said, trying not to let the water fall of emotions come out again.

I begged and pleaded the police men not to let anyone put this in the paper. I don’t really understand why I was so against the incident being in the paper but I guess I was embarrassed by what happened.

A few days later Morgan and I got a call from an investigator on our case, to come down to the station for more questions. Crammed in a hot room with a long table wooden table, they showed us pictures of all sorts of men. I so badly wanted to forget what happened, my brain repressed the memories of him into my unconscious mind. The investigators finally told us we could leave after a while of drilling us with questions.

From then on whenever I would wait in the car for my mom to grocery shop I would be so afraid someone would try to break in the car and take me. I would lay down in the back seat so no one would see me and my heart would pound whenever someone walked by. To this day I don’t know if this guy was ever found and put away but the scars he left on me will be invisible, but forever permanent.