It Took Ten Seconds

Trigger warning: rape

He was decent-looking, maybe a little boring to look at. They always were. His hair was dark, perfectly combed over. You would never see a Marine without every hair in place. The fade must have been recent because it was still fresh. He had a weak chin and dark eyes. He had eyes that said he probably crunched numbers for a living or played a lot of chess. Calculating but ultimately uninteresting. He wasn’t a pretty boy; he probably had only ever been with a handful of girls, despite being in his early 20’s. He was wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. The color was unimportant and unmemorable. Dark jeans that fit well enough and black Vans. 

It took 10 seconds. It took only 10 seconds.

The bartender was tending to someone else. The girl he was meeting was sitting at a table, unaware of how these ten seconds would change her entire life. She was pretty, attractive enough that she could do much better than the boring Marine buying her drinks at the bar. There was a vulnerability about her, a loneliness. It was clear that she was unaware that she could do better. She was wearing a black bralette, with lace around the bottom, and a red and black flannel over it. Jean cut-offs, long enough to cover her ass but short enough and tight enough for her to regret wearing them later. Grey high-top vans, dirty with tangled laces that were frayed at the end. In these ten seconds, she was sipping on a strawberry mojito, completely oblivious to what would happen next. How it would completely change her life.

Ten seconds. It took only ten seconds.

The bartender was busy. He, a stereotypical bartender, was wearing casual clothing and had a beard. The bar was especially busy; it was the fourth of July. He, like the girl, misjudged the guy at the bar, feeling that he was too boring and unassuming to cause any trouble. He left the drinks he’d made with him, turning his gaze to the next group of customers. In those ten seconds, if he had just looked over, he could have had the chance to do something. He could have saved her so much heartache. So much trauma. So many nightmares. So much fear and agony.

It took ten seconds. Ten seconds. Only ten fucking seconds.

The guy had ten seconds, and he used them. In those ten seconds, he picked up the drinks, one at a time. The first drink, picked up with his right hand so deliberately. He dropped something in the drink, so small that no one could see. No one knew. The bar was packed, and people were so involved in having their own good time that they couldn’t stop what would only be a good time for him. 

He picked up the other drink, in his left hand. Untouched. Harmless. If only he’d forgotten which drink he’d corrupted with a drug so vile and dangerous. If only he’d accidentally poisoned himself, leaving him lying somewhere regretting the decisions he’d made. If only things had gone differently. If only he’d been less manipulative, less driven by dark motives. If only he hadn’t felt the need to sedate someone to have sex with them. If only he’d had the confidence or the kindness to ask a girl out, to give her the opportunity to want to fuck him. If only.

It took only ten seconds.

It took only ten seconds for him to put roofies in one drink. He didn’t have a twisted smile. He didn’t have the face of a villain, of someone so revolting that he would take advantage of a woman like that. He didn’t laugh maniacally at his plan going right. A little smirk, a little taste of fatal arrogance. He would not be found out because what she had seen as good qualities in herself would be exploited and twisted so badly that she would then after see them as flaws. Trusting. Naive. Compassionate. Empathetic. Open-minded. 

It took ten seconds for him to ruin this woman’s life. It took ten seconds for him to do something that would haunt this woman for the rest of her life. It took ten seconds for him to leave behind what made him good in favor of what would serve him. It took ten seconds for him to shed what made him human. 

Later she would imagine it in slow-motion. That despite it happening so quickly (only ten seconds), he would have had the time to reconsider. He would have had time to take remind himself of the ethics of things. He would have had time to think about how she would feel, picking up pieces of her memory, memories of him using her like she was an object. Flopping her around like a ragdoll. Choking her to near death. Tears dried to her face. Even in that state, between sedation and consciousness, she could remember trying to say no. Her lips wouldn’t move. Her words wouldn’t come out. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care what she had to say about it. He could have. He could have used those ten seconds to change her fate, but the fact of the matter is that he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter to him how those ten seconds would hurt her. Would change her. Would destroy her.

He was the last person you would expect to lack empathy and kindness. He had been polite. He had been nice enough. Nice guys don’t finish last. This nice guy finished whenever the fuck he wanted.

Ten seconds. What she would give to change those ten seconds. Ten seconds that he would get away with. Ten seconds that no one cared about except her. Ten seconds that no one would blame him for, that no one would convict him for, that no one would reprimand him for. No court would hold him accountable, especially not in the military. Especially not in the Marines. Sexual assaults and rape cases were more common than a cup of coffee in the morning. More common than a pack of cigarettes. More common than being drunk on a Saturday night. Ten seconds that she couldn’t prove, because she wouldn’t remember until much later what happened that night, when it would be too late. Too late for a rape kit and a drug test, proving she’d been roofied, too late to get help. No one would help her.

Ten seconds. Ten seconds of grabbing drinks, drugging one of them, and then taking his first step, ready to finish what he’d started. He placed his first step with such sureness. He’d never been more confident in such a filthy decision. Ten seconds that barely passed by for him, that barely even mattered. He knew what he was doing.

Ten fucking seconds. It took ten seconds. It took only ten seconds.