Applause thundered throughout the theater as I clasped the hands of my cast mates and we all took a bow. A standing ovation—I couldn’t believe it. It seemed like yesterday I was a chubby, timid girl in high school who hid behind Jane Austen novels.
Now I had a slimmed-down figure, was about to enter medical school and my gorgeous boyfriend had asked me to marry him. And I’d just sung a solo in a musical theater production in front of a theater full of people: “All Good Gifts Around Us Are Sent From Heaven Above.” I felt on top of the world. There was a bright future ahead for me.
“Your solo sent shivers down my spine tonight,” one of my fellow actresses told me backstage.
I slathered cold cream on my face. “Thanks,” I said, “but I think everyone was good tonight.” Despite how excited I still was, I yawned. “That solo really takes it out of me,” I said. “I can’t wait to get home.”
My usual ride had fallen through. I got out of my stage clothes and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood to walk alone at night, but I’d be home sweet home before I knew it.
I left the theater passing noisy bars and homeless people. To keep myself company I hummed “All Good Gifts” under my breath. I turned the corner. The streets were emptier here. It made me all the more aware of being by myself. Next time I’ll beg someone for a ride, I vowed.
Halfway down the next block I heard breathing behind me. My own breathing sped up. Now I heard heavy footsteps too. A man, I was sure of it. He was close. Too close. Cars whizzed by. My heart pounded. I mustered up my courage, and turned around to face whoever was following me. He was about five foot ten with a mustache. A guy in jeans and a white t-shirt.
“I’m obviously slowing you down,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?” Then I took a few steps off to the side so he could pass.
The man grunted and shot past me. I slowed down to let him get a safe distance ahead, and then crossed the street to put even more space between us. He didn’t mean to scare me, I told myself. He’s just a guy who wants to get home too.
But I was relieved when I got to the secluded street where I lived. I just wanted to collapse into bed, warm and safe. “Only six more houses and I’m home,” I mumbled to myself. I walked a little faster.
A hand shot out of the dark and clamped around my mouth. Two arms locked me in a vice-like grip and dragged me off the street. I kicked and struggled. The man dragged me behind a stone fence. As soon as I could get a look at his face I realized it was the same man who’d been following me! He’d waited for his chance!
I yanked my head out of the man’s grasp and screamed.
“Shut up or I’ll kill you,” the man said, slamming the jaws of my mouth shut with his hands. He shoved me to the ground, ripped off my t-shirt and stuffed it in my mouth as a gag. He pinned my legs and arms to the ground and pulled at my jeans.
Crazy thoughts raced through my head. I was starting medical school and getting married. I couldn’t die! I twisted and fought. My attacker slammed me back to the ground. I couldn’t overpower him. With a gag in my mouth I couldn’t scream. “But you can pray.” It wasn’t a thought. I’d heard the words in my head.
Somebody help! I screamed in my mind. I’m about to be raped! I yelled the desperate prayer in my mind over and over again.
My attacker sat up, his knees still pinning me down, and tore at his own clothes. Behind him I heard footsteps. Then a booming male voice hollered, “Leave her alone!”
My attacker jumped up and bolted through the bushes as the footsteps came closer. By the time my rescuer appeared my attacker was gone. “Are you all right?” he asked, panting.
I burst into tears. “Thank you.”
The man, wearing pajamas and slippers, waited while I got myself together. He walked me to his house, where his wife made me tea and gave me some fresh clothes.
“I thought I might have heard a scream,” the man said as we waited for the police to arrive. “But nothing followed, so I just thought it was nothing. I didn’t check it out!” He shook his head, obviously wishing he’d acted earlier.
But if he hadn’t reacted to my scream, why did he come? “It was when I heard you yell, ‘Somebody help me. I’m about to be raped.’ Then I had to go find you,” the man said.
“I didn’t yell,” I said. “I was gagged. I only called out in my prayer.”
“I heard you,” the man said. “I heard you as clear as could be.”
I looked to his wife in confusion.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said. “And I was lying next to him in bed.”
Thanks to my rescuer, and the angel who delivered my silent prayer for help, I still had a bright future ahead. And an even brighter faith in God and his angels. The next time I sang, “All Good Gifts Around Us Are Sent From Heaven Above,” my solo had a whole new meaning.
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