a very different moment of reflection in an elevator..

I was all alone in Nice. I hadn’t been alone the whole weekend, as a matter of fact, it was strange to feel alone after a nice few days celebrating the friendship that my two roommates and I had found between ourselves over the past year. That morning we had said goodbye to each other as one headed back to the States, one headed back to Montpellier and I decided to rest in Nice until I could get a ride to St Tropez where I would be meeting some sports instructors who were going to give me some advice about their industry.

A rainy day, I decided to stay at the hostel, plopped myself on to a comfortable, worn-in couch armed with a new book and some dried apricots. The solitude didn’t last long as some of the hostel goers, a team of British footballers, eventually found me and talked me in to joining them for a… what we will call.. theatre spectacle in the courtyard. Eventually our spectacle turned in to a full out party, complete with costumes, drinks and a contest that included a horse whip and some bare assed football players. People from all over the world, all gathered in the courtyard of this huge hostel, laughing, talking, sharing, having a good time. At the end of my 3^rd or so drink, I decided to head upstairs to take a breather and chug some water.

A shaking experience awaited my presence in the elevator.

I watched as the couple walked pressingly to make it to the elevator before the doors closed. I held the doors and smiled as they entered. As the box began accelerating upwards, my attention faded in to thoughts of the night ahead. I hardly heard them speaking and didn’t listen as she said something to him. I did however regain full attention as he responded by punching her directly in the face, forcing her head against the mirror behind us with a cracking sound. The shock in my body was almost too much to contain, I felt my legs go numb and I’m surprised that I didn’t collapse as I grabbed my mouth, trying to contain the deeply disturbed sensation that filled me.

I was at a complete loss for the next course of action. My mind went in to overdrive but only one word filled it. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. She began to cry. I grabbed her arm “Are you okay? Are you okay?” I was horrified, I couldn’t remember any words, how do I say this in French? What the fuck. What do I do!?

I was on the edge of tears, I asked again “Are you okay? Vous êtes okay?” She looked away, pulled from me. He looked at me and in a gruff voice apologized in French before turning back to her and yelling loudly and repetitively for her to never disrespect him again. I looked at him in complete shock before settling in to an expression of disgust and anger.

Should I punch him? Should I scream? Should I push the emergency button?

Suddenly the elevator stopped. I touched her arm. “Si vous plaît, vous êtes okay?” I wanted to ask her to come with me, to be safe, I just couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember how to speak.

She looked away from me, tears dripping from her eyes, he pulled her in to the darkness of the hallway and the doors closed. I nearly collapsed, I nearly cried, but neither happened. A small desperate sound escaped my lungs. That was all I could muster. I fell against the wall. I felt my skin flush of all color, verified by the mirror that was almost broken by its contact with her head.

The doors opened again and I stumbled out. I walked in to my room, new roommates were there. I stumbled through conversation before explaining that something terrible had just happened. I left with out continuing too much with details, then I descended in the same chokingly small elevator to the first floor. I arrived at the front desk speechless, stumbled again, through a few sentences, took a deep breath and suddenly found all the words I needed. The man at the desk’s jaw dropped. He became very anxious and upset, our emotions mirrored. I described the couple, he called to the room. He found a way to get her on the line, he asked her if we could help, if she could leave and instead of leaving, she assured him that nothing was wrong, she was with her boyfriend, she loved him and she didn’t need help.

After a week of thinking through this experience, I’ve stopped feeling disappointed in myself for not doing anything more in the elevator. Instead I’ve decided to share the story in case there is anyone out there that might benefit some how from hearing it. Though never to this degree, I have experienced physical violence and sexual harassment more than a couple times in my life and I just want to encourage anyone who might be in a shitty situation where they feel like they have no control, get out.

You can.

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Violence and abuse between partners and within families is incredibly destructive to individual lives but also affects the whole community. I encourage you to find help and get therapy if you are a violent person, if you are abused by a violent person or if you know someone experiencing this.

http://www.domesticviolence.org
http://www.helpguide.org/mental/domestic_violence_abuse_types_signs_causes_effects.htm