“You know what?” I say sweetly to throw him off guard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “You’re right. I like it dirty.” I take a deep breath, like the extra air will make me bigger and stronger, and then I knee him in the groin as hard as I possibly can. My kneecap feels like it could crack in two. He lets go of my wrists and reaches for his crotch. I push him over while he’s off balance. Grab my guitar and my bag, open the door, and run as hard and as fast as I can. By the time I’m at my car, I have my keys out of my bag. He’s in the doorway. He’s hobbling out to me.

“Get away,” I scream, hoping neighbors will hear. “Get the fuck away from me!”

I unlock my car, throw my guitar and bag on the passenger seat, and climb in, closing the door just in time. He smacks my window. His face is right there. His glasses magnify his eyes, big and bulging.

I start the engine. Lean on the horn. Flash my lights. I hope someone will notice, that one of his neighbors will come help me. No one does.

“Bitch!” he screams. “You goddamned bitch!”

He raises his fist like he might try to smash it through the window. I throw the car in reverse. Feel a bump. I hear a crack. He screams, like maybe I ran over his foot. He’s doubled over on the ground. I have to keep going. I back down the driveway to the road. My tires screech as I speed away. I don’t know which way to go, but it doesn’t matter as much as getting distance. I make turns on gut feelings, and eventually I’m out at the highway and I have no problem keeping my eyes open.

I drive until daylight, until I can’t stay awake for another second. I sleep in my car in a playground parking lot. There are kids playing and moms waiting with juice boxes and the sounds of all of it make me feel safe enough to close my eyes.

When I wake up, everything feels too bright and too loud. Like another world, totally different from the one I was in last night. I wish this one felt real and that one didn’t, but it’s the other way around. These moms in the park, their kids, they aren’t even close to being a part of my reality. I don’t know them. I don’t remember anyone ever sitting on a bench with snacks and band-aids in their purse while I played on the swings. I could never be like those women. I wouldn’t know how. I sit in my car, watching them all. I feel like an alien.