I am looking in the mirror at the woman reflected back at me. I see her nervousness. "What if he doesn't like me, what if I do something stupid. At least I look good, he can't be embarrassed by me."

Bright red tank top with a light white summer blouse unbuttoned over top, dark blue stirrup jeans and white pumps, my hair done up and make up on and I'm ready to go. "I wonder where he will take me."

When I came down the steps to meet him, I was even more nervous. He looked so handsome in his own white shirt and black jeans, that I couldn't figure out why he had chosen me to ask out. We worked with a thousand other girls who would have loved to go out with him. Why me? But for now, all I wanted to know was that he had chosen me!

He smelled so distinctive, like pine trees and soap. It made me dizzy to stand near him. A good kind of dizzy with tingles up and down my spine. Everything seemed so perfect. My brother liked him and I liked him, so how could everything have gone so wrong?

He took me to a party at one of his friends house. Walking in, there is beer everywhere and so many people milling about. "This is Charlie, and Jeff, and..." the list went on and on. He never introduced me by name, I guess I should have taken this for a warning sign, but how could I have known? Instead, he went over to the refrigerator and handed me a beer. It was still warm and the grains in it stung my throat and made me gag. So, when his back was turned I quietly poured the beer into the houseplant next to me. Meanwhile, things at the party are loud and chaotic. His friends made lewd comments about sex, and whether or not he would "land me" by the end of the evening. This is when he must have sensed me getting nervous because he told them to shut up, and assured me he didn't have any intention of trying that. In fact, he acted so offended by them, that he said we should just leave. So, we did.

Together we went for a walk down the block. He was pointing out houses that he loved, and I was laughing with him at the stories behind his reasons. When we fell silent for awhile, he began to apologize for his friends. "They don't know what they are saying. " I assured him that it was ok, I understood they had been drinking and more than likely didn't know what they were saying. That's when the wind began to pick up and blew his cologne back into my face, once again the smell of it making me dizzy . as we get in the car and drive me home, he continues talking, telling me about his family and the things he believes in. By this time, I am feeling tired, comfortable and safe.

Once home, he wanted to continue talking. Off in the distance of my complex is a pond with a waterfall inside. "It's beautiful," he said "lets go down there and sit and talk some more." Well, I still had time left before I had to be home and so far he had been so nice to me, so I figured it would be alright. Looking back, I wonder how I could have ever agreed.

At one point, just before we got to the waterfall, I tripped and slit my shoe open. As I turn to show him, he moved closer and began to kiss me. So close to him, his smell overpowers me and I am lost, neither able to think clearly or to care. Gently, ever so gently he kisses me, like soft feathers on the wind and in the background I can hear the waterfall quietly falling into the pond.

Suddenly everything changes.

His gentle kisses are more insistent and his hand begins to slide down the back of my shirt. I am startled by his strength and confused over what is happening. His lips begin to crush against my own, bruising me, hurting me. His hands slide under my blouse. "STOP" "RUN" These words flash through my brain, mixing with the scent of his cologne and the sound of the water hitting the water. Yet, something is wrong. I can't move .. I can't move. My senses arch with fear, "My God, what is he doing? Why won't he stop?" I can't see the fountain, where did it go? I have to hang on to it. I don't know why, but I have to hold onto the image of the fountain.

He forces his tongue inside of my mouth. It is like raw liver and I fight the urge to vomit. His hands began to wildly grope my body, yet I still can not move. I can not protest, I can not scream. All, I can do is listen to the sound of the water hitting the water off in the distance.

There is dew on the grass and I am afraid it will stain my clothing. The ground is hard and cold and he pushes me towards it. Somehow inside my head I can see what is happening to me, viewing it far removed, like a motion picture. I hear him tell me to cooperate, how happy I make him and how much I want this. I hear the sound of a zipper opening, though I can not distinguish if it is his or mine. I can only feel the cold wet ground and listen to the sound of the water on water, like thunder in a distant storm.

Outside of me I could see him there, moving back and forth in the rhythm of the water. I can see his face twisted, and his eyes black as night. For as long as I live I will never forget the smell of pine and soap together, nor enjoy the sound of water on the pond.

Then suddenly the night is over. And in the morning everything is changed. I am changed. It was then that I purged for the first time. Out of illness and despair, unable to scrub myself free of the memories in the shower, I repeated threw up every bit of what was left inside me. And for awhile I was numb...

It would be many months before I was able to tell anyone about that night, and then, years later before I would finally find the person who would help to guide me though it. But then, lost in my confusion, feeling filthy and used, all I cared about was forgetting. For if anyone knew, I would be blamed. I must have caused it, must have brought on his change. This body, the way I dressed, and my own words, had somehow betrayed me. They were now the enemy.