On a brisk June morning in 2015, I experienced what it was like to be a deer. A blissfully vulnerable deer unknowingly being hunted. I now understand what it feels like to be preyed on. Evil eyes lock on the deer, fear bursts through its veins as the crack of a fallen tree branch behind it signals danger. For me, this signal happened to be an eerie, beat up silver sedan. Its driver, my predator.

At 7 o’clock in the morning on an ordinary Saturday in Castle Rock, Colorado, I was driving to my part-time job as a hostess at the restaurant, Pegasus, five miles from my home. As I passed a McDonald’s and the local yoga studio on this typical summer morning, I noticed a fairly beat up car quickly pull out behind me from the side of the street, coming dangerously close to side swiping the car previously behind me. Not thinking too much of the situation, I assumed it was my co-worker, Jonathan, whose stocky figure and buzzed hairstyle mirrored those of the man driving the car. He was probably grabbing a breakfast sandwich and a coffee to keep him energized during the full day of work ahead of us. As I continued on my way, I became suspicious of this worn out silver sedan still following closely. I pulled into the back parking lot of Pegasus, parked behind a tree, and glanced in my rearview mirror. The vehicle had stopped horizontally behind me. This was my danger signal, the crack of the fallen tree branch. I was trapped.

For a moment, I couldn't decide if I should stay put or quickly walk into work, ignoring the vehicle, and let one of my coworkers know of the suspicious character just yards away. I decided to exit my car and speed walk into the restaurant. I stepped out of my car, still hoping that in the vehicle was my co-worker Jonathan, or at least just a man asking for directions to a gas station or something nearby.

As soon as my feet hit the gravelly pavement and I grabbed my purse and car keys, the man in the silver sedan whistled. This was not a whistle of someone asking for directions. It was the classic whistle of a man letting a woman know he finds her sexually appealing. Clearly, it wasn’t Jonathan, nor an innocent man trying to find his way around Castle Rock.

“Hey pretty girl, I need to ask you a question real quick,” called the man, a mere six feet away.

“Do you need help with something?” I replied. Foolishly not ignoring his come on, I walked over to the passenger side door.

“Oh, um yeah, actually I do!” he answered, probably surprised that I, a 17-year-old girl, stupidly chose to engage in conversation with him.

My heart began to beat uncontrollably as the grubby looking man opened the driver's side door and headed towards me. I fumbled with my cars keys, desperately feeling around for the unused can of pepper spray I had prayed I would never have to use. As he continued around the car, I saw his dirty grey sweatpants lowered near his ankles, exposing nearly everything. It became obvious that he had been pleasuring himself on the drive over and I was no longer safe. When the man realized I was slowly inching away from his vehicle, clearly scared, an angry, impatient look filled his eyes. He began to walk more quickly in my direction. I was so overwhelmed with fear, the pepper spray just inches from my fingertips didn't cross my mind again. I turned and broke into a full sprint, genuinely scared for my life. As I began to run, I felt his rough cracked fingertips graze my forearm to force me into his car. My predator was relentless and hungry, fuming with rage as his prey escaped from his sight.

Within seconds I was through the back door of my work and locking the door behind me, creating a solid barrier between me and the man a couple feet away. I watched through the cold, clammy window as the man, now furious, kicked the driver’s side door of my car then sped away, likely in search of another vulnerable and naive girl to lure into his sedan. Trembling with fear, I walked over to the food line, set my purse down, clocked in, and began to cry. With no customers in the restaurant to tend to yet, the staff manager, Jeanette, walked over to me, put her hands on my shoulders, and asked why I was sobbing. I informed her of the events that had just occurred in the back parking lot. Deeply concerned that this man was now on the run, we called the police.
Once the three police officers arrived, I repeated the events that occurred now almost an hour ago and attempted to describe the man. Flashes of his angry face and beat up car played over and over in my head like an endless picture book, filling me with deep uneasiness. My forearm still tingled from where his fingers tried to grasp me.

The officers looked at security footage, which was much too grainy and distant to pick up any of the man’s characteristics I had not described. There was not much the men could do other than file a report and keep a lookout for this sick, sexual predator. About a week later, a girl in Highlands Ranch, a town only 25 minutes away, contacted the police about a man fitting a similar description following her and attempting to lure her into his car. The police filed a second report, but a year later, the man has not been found. He probably remains in his silver sedan on the hunt for more vulnerable prey.

The man and his silver sedan led me to realize that I no longer feel completely safe anywhere I go. I no longer assume that strangers are innately good or have the best intentions. I now carry that can of pepper spray by my side everywhere I go. Although I did not use my pepper spray on my predator that Saturday morning, I had good reason to do so. Many people think they are safe while driving or walking around the town they call home, unaware that sexual predators could be lurking nearby. Living in fear is not an ideal way of life, but leading a life of vulnerability, naive and unaware of one’s surroundings is a much more dangerous option.

Similar to the “sex ed” talk we all had to endure in the late days of elementary school, I believe that during the early days of high school, every teen should be required to attend a short seminar that emphasizes stranger danger and the importance of keeping an eye on their surroundings. During this seminar, teens should be taught various self-defense tactics and be given a small, portable can of pepper spray and instructed how and when to use it.

People may view this tactic as over dramatic, but in any given situation, it is better to be safe than forever sorry. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be caught in a situation where the use of pepper spray should have been implemented. On that brisk summer morning, that can of pepper spray was my shield, my safety net, one I failed through lack of training to use.