What It's Like To Wake Up to an Intruder in Your Bedroom

Like some of female victims in the recent  attacks  in Walnut Creek's Park Regency apartment complex, I was in my 20s — 26, to be exact — when I woke in the middle of the night to find an intruder in my apartment.

He was standing next to my bed pulling the covers off me — that's what woke me. It was a warm spring night in Washington, D.C.

I lived on the ground floor of a charming pre-World War I  brick building right above Georgetown. "The poor man's Georgetown," my neighbors and I jokingly called it. No air conditioning so, of course, my windows were open to let in air. And why not? It was a terrific neighborhood full of young professionals like me. 

Correction: It had been a terrific neighborhood. I bolted upright and peered into the darkness. Slowly a man's towering form took shape in the shadows. Crap. Was this really happening? Great. My life was already a mess. Now this? 

First, I was still recovering from the most major breakup of my life. We'd been joined-at-the-hip college sweethearts whose perfect relationship couldn't handle the transition to the real world.

Second, my dream job was really kind of a nightmare, and I was thinking about quitting. That overwhelmed me with dread. I was told all the time how fortunate I was to work at the Washington Post and how many young journalists would give anything to be in my place. But it was a brutal pace and my 20s were zipping by in a blur, never to return. 

Third, I realized that I did not like Washington, D.C., as a place to live. So, without a townie boyfriend and cool Washington job, there'd be no reason to stay. 

But where would I go?  What would I do?  

And now on top of all this angst, I was going to be raped?  

My eyes adjusted. I could see him clearly. He was a tall, lean African-American.  Young, actually not bad-looking. He was dressed in running clothes, a tank top, shorts and high-top sneakers. He wore black-framed glasses that made him look kind of intellectual. He seemed like someone who could be your favorite pal at work without you ever knowing he had a screw loose.

Okay, if I was going to be raped at least he wasn't ugly. I could get through this. But gosh darn, I didn't want to. I was depressed enough as it was. 

I pulled my covers back on me and drew my knees up to my chest. Looking straight ahead, not at him, I said in a firm, low voice, "I want you to leave. Right now." 

"OK," he said and turned to go. He headed toward my front door even though I was certain he must have entered my bedroom via the back porch. 

What just happened? I sat there in amazement feeling like the tiny dog that chased away the Great Dane. But what if he changed his mind? Or decided to help himself to my TV on his way out?  I had to maintain the upper hand.

I leapt out of bed, stomping my feet on the wood floor with as much force as I could summon. With one arm, I flung the bedroom back hard enough to smack it against the wall. With the other, I pointed toward the front door.  "Now!" I shouted. "Right now!"  He motioned OK, OK with his left hand as he opened my front door with his right hand and exited the apartment.

I was shaking. I called the police. They came and told me that most rapists need women to react in fear. This makes them feel powerful. Because I did not cower in fear, my would-be rapist was thwarted.

My friends said I was brave. I wasn't. I was just depressed. And the guy was clean and preppy looking. What if he'd been a thuggy gangsta? Or a smelly old wino? How brave would I have been then? 

I never returned to the apartment except to pack. And then only in the daytime. I decided that my would-be rapist was an omen, a messenger holding an invisible sign. It said, "Leave. Now." 

I moved to San Francisco. I never lived by myself again. 

The Contra Costa Sheriff's Department is investigating whether an attempted rape Saturday evening is tied to the sexual assault of another female resident of the Park Regency complex on Sept. 16.  Investigators say these latest two assaults are not connected to three prior attacks at the 892-unit complex between June 30 and Aug. 10, including one rape. A Berkeley man is in custody for the first three attacks and DNA evidence ties him to the July 6 rape.  

Deborah Burstyn also writes Walnut Creek Patch's Family Ties columns about struggling to be a family in this crazy world.