The Silent Cry That Was Heard
Applause thundered across the dimly lit dinner theater as we Godspell thespians bowed triumphantly to the standing ovation. When the clapping subsided, we bounded off the stage and bee-lined to the dressing room.
“That was the best audience ever,” I exclaimed to Claire, another actress in the show.
“You sure wowed them with your solo, ‘All Good Gifts.’ It sent shivers down my spine.”
“Thanks,” I said as I smeared cold cream over my face to scrub off the heavy stage makeup.
When my face was clean, I searched for the girl who always offered me a ride home. “Has anybody seen Deb?”
“Deb? She left with Robert to grab a bite after the show,” a cast member replied.
My shoulders sagged. How would I get home now? I lived four miles from the theater, and no buses ran at this time of night. Straight out of college, I couldn’t afford a taxi. Worse still, the theater was located in a bad part of town littered with smoky bars and street people. None of the other cast members lived near me, so I hesitated to beg for a ride.
I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and mulled over my dilemma. Maybe an invigorating walk home would unwind me from the excitement of the show and from my jitters about tomorrow’s high school reunion. I was anxious to face everyone after five years.
I’d been a pudgy honor student in high school. I lived for a cappella madrigals, debate team, and Jane Austen novels. Stir in my church choir commitment and pitiful finish in every cross-country running meet, and no one could have found a better poster child for “Miss Montpelier Nerd.”
Now I eyed this reunion as my chance to reveal all I had accomplished since graduation. I envisioned confronting Robby Sorenson, the bully who had tortured me with his taunts of “Tub-of-lard” and “Fatso.” I salivated at the image of parading my curly-haired fiancé and slimmed-down physique in front of him. I’d casually drop comments about performing to standing ovation crowds, graduating from college summa cum laude, and entering medical school in the fall.
“So what have you been up to, Robby?” I’d dig, knowing his crowning achievement since high school was a two-bit job pumping gas. Rumor had it that his girlfriend had recently dumped him, so I’d be sure to ask about her. It would serve him right.
I plodded toward home, gloating in my daydreams, oblivious to the stranger who lurked behind me. Gradually, however, I could feel his breath heavy on my neck.
What’s his deal?
My heart began to pound. Cars whipped by and fraternity houses bustled with noise.
Surely he won’t attack me on the busiest street in Burlington.
Still, the guy made me nervous, so I stepped aside and gestured for him to pass by.
“I’m obviously slowing you down, so why don’t you go ahead of me?” I said in a shaky voice.
He grunted and plowed ahead. I dawdled until he was a healthy distance ahead of me, and then I crossed the street to get even farther away from him. I sighed in relief and scolded myself for my paranoia. He was probably just some college student so distracted by his own worries that he was clueless about the panic he’d ignited in me.
I veered onto the secluded street where I lived. After a four-mile trek, my feet ached and I was more than ready to flop into bed. Just six houses to go and I’d be home.
Suddenly, my mouth was clamped in a vice-like grip. Arms like those of a giant octopus snatched me from behind and dragged me off the sidewalk. I immediately recognized my assailant as the creep who’d stalked me earlier. He must have doubled back and followed me down the dead-end street.
I kicked and fought and bit and clawed in a futile attempt to escape, but I was no match for this madman. He shoved me to the ground behind a stone fence.
I suddenly remembered that just one month earlier, a girl my age had been raped, strangled, and murdered behind a stone fence on a quiet street just like this one. The local newspaper had printed a picture of the man with whom she had last been seen, and he looked frighteningly similar to this man.
I’m about to be raped and murdered, just like that girl!
I jerked my head away and let out a blood-curdling scream. I opened my mouth to release another roof-raiser, but he slammed my jaw shut.
“Shut up! Shut up or I’ll kill you.”
He ripped off my T-shirt and jammed it into my mouth as a gag. He stretched out my arms and pinned them down, and he tugged at my jeans while his knees pinned my legs to the ground.
My heart pounded at a dizzying rate.
This can’t be happening! I don’t want to die. Somebody rescue me!
But no one came. In a last-ditch effort to escape, I jerked upward, but he smashed me to the ground and tightened his grip on my arms. He glared into my eyes and spewed, “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve just started in on you.”
My heart pounded like a kettledrum.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t overpower this psychopath. And with a gag in my mouth, I couldn’t scream.
But you can pray, a voice whispered in my head.
Help me! I’m about to be raped! I pleaded silently to my only source of hope. Over and over I petitioned God with this same prayer, knowing I was powerless, but He was not.
My attacker loosened his trousers. I suddenly heard footsteps pounding down the sidewalk.
“Leave her alone! Leave her alone,” a man’s voice shouted.
As the sound of running feet neared, my assailant bolted through the bushes.
A man clad in pajama bottoms and loafers peeked over the fence.
“Are you all right?” he panted and helped me to my feet.
I burst into tears. “Thank you so much for coming. You saved my life.”
I clutched his arm, never so grateful to meet a complete stranger in my life.
He escorted me to his house, where his wife gave me an untorn T-shirt and a mug of chamomile tea to calm my frazzled nerves.
While we waited for the police to arrive, we rehashed the events of my attack. But then my hero dropped a bombshell. “When I heard you holler, ‘Help me! I’m about to be raped!’ I knew I had to come.”
My heart lurched. “But you couldn’t have heard me say that. I was gagged.”
He scratched his head. “Well, I don’t understand it, but I clearly heard a voice say, ‘Help me! I’m about to be raped!’”
His wife piped in. “The weird thing is, I never heard it, and I was lying in bed right next to him. But he insisted he’d heard it, so he bolted for the door.”
My heart stopped. “Those were the exact words I prayed in my mind.”
We stared at one another in stunned shock. How was it possible? Had he read my mind?
It didn’t make sense, but apparently God had transferred my desperate prayer into this man’s brain, just as though he had heard the words audibly.
I spent the next several hours providing a police report. I never made it to that high school reunion; I was too preoccupied with the Burlington Crime Stoppers unit to attend the festivities. But somehow, I no longer cared. My life had nearly been snuffed out, but God had miraculously allowed me to live.
The next time I belted out my solo, “All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above,” I marveled at how true those lyrics had been for me.
Truly He does send us good gifts!