As the elevator doors closed, he immediately pushed behind me, grabbing my neck with his thick, meaty arm. I tried to free myself, to jam my keys into his flesh, but he had every counter-move choreographed. After both of us fell to the floor, I tried to poke him in the eyes, I frantically tried to grab at his ears, but my attempts fell short each time. At last, I was able to get in to a position where I could kick him in the face. As the bottom of my sneaker connected with his nose, I was grateful for all of the hours I had spent in yoga classes gaining strength, flexibility and peace of mind. It was, in addition to the pure grace of God, my yoga training that helped to save me.
But, being in kicked in the face didn’t go over too well with The Monster and so he stood partly up and began to unbutton his pants with one hand while holding my throat with the other. I flailed wildly with all of the fading strength I could. His frustration increased, as did my determination. He then punched my face repeatedly as the elevator ascended to yet another floor—with no one on the other side of the doors. My pulse raced as thoughts flooded my mind, each bringing with it another dose of adrenaline. At last, with seconds to spare, I flailed my arm one last time and hit the buzzer on the side panel of the elevator. The noise startled him, the doors opened yet again and he ran out. I crawled into the hallway and gasped for help. The attack was over and my new life post-attack had just begun.