CHAPTER TWO: THE AFTERMATH
"My name is Rosalee," I said in a hurry as flashes of light reflected from the knife blade and danced on the wall. "I trust you need money. You'll find my purse over by the radio."
That's all I could remember until I opened my eyes to two paramedics kneeling beside me. My fingers felt sticky, almost like gooey paste. It was my own blood...the loss of which had taken me to the brink of death. The sensation of the sticky wetness, and the bloody sight of my own body shall be embedded forever in memory.
"Rosalee!" I heard my best friend say anxiously as the two men carried me on a stretcher to an awaiting ambulance. "I'll drive to the hospital and meet you there."
"The knife did graze your neck, but you are one lucky woman to be alive. Stay with me! Look at me, Rosalee. We're taking you to Memorial Medical Center, and Barry will steer us there quick as quick can be." This paramedic wore a badge that simply said, "Freddie." I can still see his kind, brown eyes meeting mine as he talked and fiddled with the IV.
These are the only memories I have remaining of that fateful day in the month of October 1989. The police investigation seemed of no avail as the intruder was never identified. Apparently, he had worn gloves and left no fingerprints. He took my wallet that was never found.
Oh, yes, I recovered physically, apart from the long scar across my neck. My dear friend Verna, who had stopped by that day, was my heroine. Barry and Freddie visited me in the hospital during my recovery. Two nicer men would be difficult to find.
Mentally, I live with fear. Although I try my best to rationalize, unrecognized sounds send me into a panic still. My dream home on the lake looks more like a prison today with the barred windows and doors and complicated alarm system. I chose to stay but decided to make intrusion not so easy anymore. The stranger had pried open a window and taken my trust hostage for all time in the aftermath.