“Don’t you ever check your mirrors?”

This happened years ago when I worked as a bartender at a craft brewery. <br><br>I worked second shift, so I would close, clean up, and leave the building around 1am. The brewery was located in a large warehouse district that was not yet fully developed… meaning that of the 100 warehouses in the area, only 5-10 were occupied. This provided endless abandoned buildings, roads, and… alleys. As I left work that night, I decided it would be a good idea to Listening to music to take my usual shortcut home through the alleys instead of the main road. Yes, as a young female, alone at 1am and listening to music through earbuds, I knowingly took a riskier route home. I’m not dumb, I carry a knife and pepper spray, and I know how to use both. However, I am not delusional enough to think that these would be of any help if attacked. They were more there to help me sleep at night than any realistic threat deterrent. My biggest safety concern was that of being followed, so I frequently checked my mirrors on the 5 minute drive down the alley. <br><br>I parked my car, and started walking to the entrance of my apartment building… and that’s it. That’s all I remember. <br><br>The next thing I remember is being in my bed the next morning, confused, groggy, and disoriented. My brain was foggy, but the pain was clear: my head was pounding and I had multiple cuts and scrapes on my face. I slowly stood up and made my way to the sink to assess the damage. That’s when I noticed the blood. No no, not just blood. Hair. There was hair in the blood. A closer look revealed a small bald spot on the side of head, surrounded by smaller cuts and scratches. I was confused, disoriented, and a bit out of it, both physically and mentally. I decided to take a shower and try to figure out wtf had happened the night before. I stood under the hot water for nearly 20 minutes before I got out to change. That’s when I noticed it. The damage to my car was extensive. Large dents and scratches covered nearly every area of the car. <br><br>It finally hit me: I had been hit. <br><br>I slowly started to remember: I was walking to my apartment when a man approached me and hit me… and I don’t remember anything else. I didn’t have any sort of epiphany where all the details came rushing back… just that. I remember being hit. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I later read the police report. I had ‘severe injuries to the head’ that required stitches, so I assume it wasn’t pretty. <br><br>I didn’t remember anything else until I got to the hospital. I don’t know how long I was out, but I do remember two women talking about me the next morning. I couldn’t see them or move, but I could hear. They were talking about my car, and how ‘drunk’ I must have been to have done that kind of damage. The first woman replied that she had called the cops because a man had approached her the night before and seemed shady AF. The cops showed up shortly after and ‘rescued’ me. They say I was out of it and could barely answer any questions. I do not remember this, as I was still ‘out’. <br><br>The cops took me to a hospital, where they ran a variety of tests. This included a full blood work up (toxicology, etc) because they assumed that I had been drinking and then tried to drive. I was not drunk. I was a bartender; I was simply unlucky. After I was cleared, they took me to the station for a full report. The cops were… shocked to say the least. I had no recollection of any of what had occurred. Listening to them recount what they had found at the scene of the accident provided additional details. The witnesses claimed that I was walking alone down the sidewalk when a van approached me and a man jumped out of the side door and attacked. I was knocked unconscious and landed on the cement. Apparently, my head was moving a little, or something, because they said they knew I was alive when they put me in the van. I was in such bad shape that they called 911 instead of taking me. They left me on the sidewalk and sped off. <br><br>If that sounds confusing, it is. This is because I have pieced together what happened through the cops, as I don’t actually remember any of this. <br><br>I don’t remember anything until I was sitting in the back of the cop car, answered questions that I didn’t really know the answers to. No, I didn’t see the license plate. No, I didn’t see his face. Yes, I can describe the van. I can also describe the ‘shady’ van driver… but my description comes from what I overheard at the hospital. I watched the cops barely contain their anger as they pieced together what had happened. I was a victim of assault and kidnapping, and the only thing they had to go on was a description and the location. They were not very optimistic. That was bad news for me, because the whole experience had left me traumatized. I stopped taking that route home and was always on edge. Even though this happened years ago, I still get ‘that feeling’ when I’m alone. I have since moved to a new state, but that feeling has never gone away. <br><br><br>I know that the cops never found the men who did this. I know that because I was required to testify in court against ‘someone who matched the description’, but they were unable to link the crime to them. I didn’t recognize them, but the prosecutor was certain they were the ones. Apparently, the driver had outstanding warrants, and a check of his phone records revealed ‘suspicious activity’. I testified, and they were found guilty of an unrelated crime. <br><br>But I digress. I don’t ever want to ‘meet’ the man who did this ever again.