6 years later, I still have the nightmares. (TRIGGERS. DETAILED.)

Six years ago, today, my house was broken in to around 2am while me and my daughter were home, sleeping.

Just about 2 weeks before this, my fiance and I broke up for good. He moved out of my 3 bedroom trailer ans back in with his parents. Starting about 3 days after he moved out, I noticed a truck that was always parked outside my house. First few times I thought it was a new neighbor. Then I realised the man never got out of the truck. Hed just sit in his truck. We never made eye contact tho, and whenever I'd look out to see if he was still there, he was never even looking in my direction. So I didnt have my gaurd up entirely like I should have. I was 20 yrs old. I didn't pay enough attention. Well last night- 6 years ago that man broke into my house. He entered through my backdoor, grabbed a knife from my kitchen and walked through my living room to reach my bedroom. I woke to the noise he made trying to get my backdoor open, so I jumped up to get my clothes on (I use to sleep naked) to check out what the noise was, thinking it was my cat. By the time I got dressed, and opened my bedroom door, he was less than 2 feet away. Absolutely terrified for my daughter who was sleeping in my bed with me (because that was my first concern instantly) I tried to close and lock my door. I couldnt get it locked quick enough, before he pushed the door open. So I backed up, while standing in front of the bed, in the way of my daughter, begging him to tale whatever he needs and to leave and that I wouldn't fight. Thinking he wanted something materialistic like money or my TV or something. I told him I'd show him where my safe is, and id even open it for him so he could have my savings. And he just stood there, staring at me with this... look. It felt like he was staring into me, but staring past me. His green eyes looked black in the dim lighting, and they seemed ghostly. Then i heard his voice as he told me he didnt want my money. His voice stunned me, it scared me with how sharp and dark every syllable was. He continued to come closer, so I started pleading for my daughter (who in that moment I called my son) I begged to let me take my son to his room and then he could do or have whatever, that I wouldnt fight. And then he stopped moving. He just stood there. So I grabbed my daughter and sprinted past him. The way my single wide was set up was, the bedroom opened into the living room which was an open floor plan so my kitchen was next to/apart of the living room, then the hallway with the bathroom, and then a bedroom next to the bathroom and then the hallway ended at my daughters room. I sprinted to her room with her, shut the door and locked it. I sat her in the crib while I tried to unlock the window. As I'm pulling the blinds away I hear him at the door screaming to unlock it, while beating on the door. My daughter is screaming and I'm trying everything in my power to get this fucking window unlocked. If I can just get this window open, we can climb out and run and scream for help. I start taking my daughters bigger toys to try to smash the window. And all it's doing is cracking tiny bits, while the man is kicking the door. I get a fist sized hole made in the window and I start knocking out the glass for us to fit through when he kicks the door in. My daughter is screaming, I'm screaming. He darts toward me with the knife still in his hand. I'm looking back at him while I'm screaming for help out the window. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, and I'm kicking, screaming, trying to dig my nails into his back and pinching him. Then I feel the tip of the knife firmly touching my side, directly next to his neck. In fear of being stabbed I stopped everything. I stopped moving, I stopped screaming. I completely froze like a fucking idiot. He tossed me on my couch in the living room where I always had a small lamp on, so I could see when I had to get up to check on my daughter. In that exact moment, I absolutely despised that lamp. Because of that lamp, he can SEE me. I can see him. I can make out every little detail of his face and his structure. He was easily twice my size. I was 5'1 and 110lbs. He was closer to 300lbs and about 6'5, 6'6. He laid himself flat ontop of me, while trying to remove my clothes and I couldnt breathe. I swear i could feel my chest and my ribs cracking under the weight. So gasping and screaming, he gets up, but then keeps his legs wrapped around mine and my wrists held by his hand above my head while his other hand holding the knife is free. Hes slipping the knife under my shirt and pulling it upward, letting the blade cut through the shirt. Hes not using his hand, hes using the blade and grazing it over my skin until he reaches my sweatpants. He drops the knife on the floor and tries to pull them down, but hes in the way of himself so he brings my hands down and places them on my side, off the edge of the couch while he tries to scoot down to get my pants off. My couch is just low enough that when he does that, I'm close enough to be able to grab the knife. When he gets my pants off, he goes to put my hands back above my head, so when he does, the knife grazes the tip of his shoulder, but cuts deep enough that it causes him to react to the pain. So at this point the only things free are my hands, so I'm grabbing for anything and everything close by to hit him with. I grab the lamp and hit him with it and the bulb shatters, and I'm taking a water cup I had on the couch table and throwing that at his face. Water and glass is all over the couch and floor and wall and I run out of things to hit him with, so I just start whaling my arms. Then he grabs me by the neck. So hard, I instantly started feeling my face heat up and my eyes swell. With one hand on my neck, the other holding my hands, he gets up and yanks me off the couch and drags me toward the bedroom, and all I can do is kick and kick and kick. He drags me to my bed, putting my hands behind my back and he shoves me up against the side of my bed. It felt like hours passed, and like it wasnt ever going to end. There was blood everywhere from the lamp glass landing on me and cutting me. I remember the smell of him. I remember the shape of his shadow. I remember the smell of smoke. What was left of the lamp in the living room had caught fire and began burning the couch. But the man didnt stop. You could smell and see the smoke and he just kept going, even harder. I could only think of my daughter, who I could hear over the monitor in my room, still screaming. Then I hear my neighbor outside my daughters window screaming to call 911, while I hear banging at my front door. So I start screaming for help, and as my first scream came out, he punched me in the back of my head as i feel him cumming. Then pulls away. Doesnt even stop to pull his pants up. He just darts out of the bedroom. I try to get up to see where he went and to get my baby and I'm so dizzy and faint I cant even see straight. I just see smoke and blood.

Then I see the dark night sky moving above me as I'm being rushed on a stretcher to the ambulance. My neighbors husband managed to break the door in, and she got through my daughters bedroom window to get my daughter. By the time the fire dept got to my house, the couch was gone, the back wall the couch was against was gone. In fact the whole back wall, from where the couch was, to the back door was completely gone. Half of my kitchen was gone. I had to spend 4 days in the hospital to be monitored and assessed. I had to give my statement and a description of the man. 6 years later and I still have not been informed of them finding him. 6 years, I suffer from insomnia. Anxiety. Extreme seasonal depression.

Aside from the cops, I've never told my story. Idk if the cops even listened or cared considering he still isnt found. Idk why I'm sharing this here. It's just really strong feelings today.

Six years later and I still struggle every day in even the biggest and tiniest ways. Six years, and I think it might finally be time to speak to a counselor.