My writing Journey – Heike’s Life

Being a teenager and stalked in the '80s was incredibly hard, considering we did not even have a name for it yet. There were no anti-stalking laws, so the victims had zero protection, and the hunters all the power to terrorize their prey. I had no idea what to call or how to deal with it when I was stalked for 2 years back in Germany between the ages of 14 and 16. It was not till a few years later, after I came to live in the US with my husband, that while watching tv, I heard Stalker used and was startled and how it instantly resonated with me and made me feel anxious at the same time. It's tough for some to relate to anyone who has been through it unless you yourself or someone close to you has been stalked. Back in those days, you knew something was wrong, but you could not get any help. I remember going down to the police department twice after some of my friends encouraged me to do so and was pretty much told no crime was committed. Unless he physically threatened me, I had no recourse. Stalkers back then really were crafty. On the one hand, they had it easier as the law did not stand in their way, and on the other hand, it was harder because there were no cellphones and social media to stalk your victims on. It took hours and hours a day, day in and day out, of physically stalking your prey. Learning their route and waiting for your chance to pounce. Like in my case, I met this older man while out with my mother. He was a friend of my parents who I had never met. He also drove a flashy new Trans Am, which was a rare sight in Germany. Mostly American soldiers who brought theirs over with them drove them, and that was very few. Before then, I had only seen one in my entire life, not on television. So here he was being introduced to me and seemed like an amicable person. Asking me a lot of questions and showing a real interest in my life. He complimented me on what a pretty young woman I was turning into and how mature I seemed for my age. What girl at that age does not like hearing flattery. After he left, my mom explained that he and his wife were never able to have any children, and I figured that is why he showed such interest in me. All that changed within a month of meeting him. At first, I noticed him driving around all the time, stopping for just a second to greet me. Then I would spot him while getting out of school or taking nice long walks to my favorite park. I still did not have that alarm bell go off. After a while of this and maybe a few cups of coffee shared in my neighborhood Pizzeria, things started to escalate quickly. After mentioning something to my mom, who just blew it off as me being a silly goose, I started to get some creepy feeling. One Friday night, he showed his true intentions. Just as my mom left the house to meet my father at their local bar, as they usually spend their Friday nights dancing. The phone rang, and it was him asking me if I wanted to join him at the pizzeria down the street. I tried to wiggle out of it, but he told me he knew I was alone since he has just seen my mom leave. I was completely freaked out and, not knowing what to do, decided I would rather face him in a public setting than stay alone at home scared. Apparently, I took too long because before I even got my jacket over my sweatsuit, the doorbell rang, and to my horror, when I asked who it was, it was him. He wanted to make sure I was not hiding out alone on a Friday night. Or so he claimed. I frantically just grabbed my key and rushed down the stairs to meet him, trying to make sure he had no way to push past me into the apartment building hallway. Breathing a sigh of relief after the front door latched and we were on the street, which was very busy around that time of evening. Lucky for me the Pizzeria was only a 2 min walk since I was not very warmly dressed. My sweatsuit was not meant for snowy weather. But to be honest, I think I may have shivered more from fright than the cold. I was so relieved when we entered through the door. We seemed to be regulars by now as he kept catching me constantly passing by there and pulling me in for an espresso. This was just the first time we arrived simultaneously, which raised some eyebrows from the owner, which was this jolly old Italian I have known since I was a little kid. I started to feel like a puppet being pulled by strings and had no will of my own. Being so young, you do not know how to deal with authority figures even when they step out of line. I was raised in the old-fashioned strict German way where you obeyed your elders at all times. Never did I imagine it could get me into so much trouble. How much trouble I had not yet realized. I just knew things were just not right. I was not supposed to be this freaked out by simply having coffee at our local pizzeria. That night I became acutely aware of how often he touched my arm or hand. How he constantly had to put his arm around me as if to claim me. I just knew that after that night, I would have to change my whole life. Somehow I had to get away and find a way for him not to follow me and surprise me constantly. I felt so lucky that after only 20 mins he was ready to leave, and I thought that in less than 5 mins I would be tugged away safely with my parents. I had already planned to meet them at their bar, which was on my way home. It was all on one street like so many German cities are designed. You really had not far to go to get anywhere. Everything was within walking distance. Just as we rounded the corner after getting out of the door, I mentioned to him my plans—a big mistake on my part. I should have just kept walking until we reached the bar entrance, which I could see right from where I stood. Instead, he pulled me in the other direction saying he just wanted a few more minutes to talk. I tried to argue back, but he did not take no for an answer, just kept leading me in the opposite direction I needed to go. I can still picture myself walking down the dark street with this tall 200lbs plus man and me barely weighing in at 70lbs wet. I was so tiny at 14. Before I knew it, he pulled me into a deserted, unlit courtyard away from the street. I remember the shock and disbelief I felt at that moment because, in an instant, I knew I was in a situation I could not control anymore. And before I knew it, he had me in his arms against my will, trying to plant a kiss on me. Barely reaching his armpit came to my advantage as I was easily able to wiggle around. Being in absolute panic mode by that time, I tried my best to free myself as he kept telling me to give him one kiss, and he would let me go. I did not believe him, and rightfully so. After a few mins of him trying to kiss me and me squirming my way out. Not sure why screaming never entered my mind, but I believe it really is true when they say that fear can make you freeze up inside. All I was trying to do is get away with my pride still intact. I guess he never imagined me being this feisty because I could hear his ever-mounting frustration in his voice. For some odd reason, I thought that would make him give up eventually. What I had not realized was that during our struggle, he ever so slowly moved me closer and closer to the house wall, which before I knew it was slammed against. My head hit the wall, and the shock just totally paralyzed me for a second. By the time I regained my composure, he had pinned me so hard against the wall I could barely breathe—his full weight on me. As I continued my struggles, he used his one hand to move both my arms behind my back, pinning me tighter. I still refused to give up, so he had to use his leg to spread my legs and hold me in place by using his knee against my pelvic bone. He continued to try and kiss me and, with the other hand, try and get under my sweater as I continued to move my head back and forth, trying to avoid him. This point freaked me, and I think I bit him at that point, which made him back up for a second to slam me right back into the wall again, which made me lose consciousness. I am not sure if it was due to physical or emotional drama, but I just gave up at that point. My body just slumped down. I was nothing but a ragdoll. I could neither hear nor see anything anymore. To this day, I have no clue how I got out of that situation. I don't know whether my passing out scared him or maybe a car driving down the street freaked him out. All I remember is falling to the ground as he released me. It took me a few moments to realize where I was and try and compose myself. I was in such a daze, and my head hurt so much everything following that moment is sketchy. I slightly remember him trying to help me up and his frustration at me as I continuously pushed him away. After finally standing, I tried to straighten out my clothing and started walking off. I know he kept following me and kept talking to me. But what he said, I have no idea anymore. I don't know how I ended up making it into my house and my apartment. I remember crawling into bed feeling nauseated and in severe pain. I knew by tomorrow I would be sore and bruised and I felt so utterly humiliated that I had gotten myself into this situation in the first place. As I started to drift off to sleep that night, I knew that I had to be smarter from that moment. I somehow had to do my best to avoid him at all costs. This was the beginning of the year from hell. To be continued...