Fear and loathing.

Since I’ve moved to my new place I’ve had two bad experiences with men. One just happened: a homeless guy grabbed my hand and bit me then proceeded to chase me all the way to my house.

And another happened a week ago. My leg had popped out the joint and the person who stopped to help me turned out to be a pervert. Luckily nothing bad happened just a few unpleasant memories and of course more guilt.

I’m currently waiting on my hubby to come home so he can carry me to the hospital to make sure I wasn’t infected with anything. It didn’t bleed but it burns a lot so one can assume he broke my skin. I seriously doubt I’ll be able to escape that guy if he catches me a second time. I dislocated my shoulder as I yanked my hand away. That bugger was fucking strong.

I’m pretty upset right now because I never used to be scared all the time when I was training. I knew what I was capable of then and I knew when to run away. Now, I have no idea if I can defend myself because my body never listens.

I’m supposed I managed to outrun him without my legs popping out of the joint. I only wish I had the energy to run straight to the police station. They would have had to take me seriously if the crazy guy followed me all the way there.

I thought I had come a long way but it seems I was wrong. I’m cowering in my bedroom terrified and having flashbacks. It sucks but my mind is my greatest enemy when it comes to dealing effectively with these sorts of people.

I can only hope that homeless guy isn’t actively marking me.

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