
Zombie Trance
What will it take to break her out?
A Non-fiction Thriller
Copyright @ 2020 By RK Urban
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the written permission of the author.
Chapter
1
Free at Last — Hopefully
Ok, time to send the message

As I push the send button, I breathe a sigh of relief. My ex-boyfriend, who I will refer to as my ex, is a bit crazy. He has caused me so much grief. I’m still confused by my role in a healthy relationship, so ending this toxic relationship feels good.
I guess you could
say I’m a bit wimpy because of how I just ended the relationship -- I put my
safety first. Instead of telling him face to face while visiting him in his
hometown in France, I sent him an instant chat message. In fairness, I haven’t
seen him in about a year, and I see no point in flying to another country just
to tell a guy I don’t trust and I’m a bit afraid of “Hi honey, it’s
over—goodbye.”
I am a Korean
undergraduate student at the University of Michigan, the Ann Arbor campus. My
Korean name is Mi-young. I love this name because it means everlasting beauty.
I have a friend, a mentor. His name is RK. He is helping me learn what
boundaries are for dating and in life. Don’t ask me why my parents and
religious community in my hometown didn’t teach these lessons. When the topic
of sex came up during my childhood, all the elders in my small community had
learned ways to change the subject. It is almost as though these trusted sages
were afraid to talk about penises, boobs, and vaginas. Why were such beautiful
parenting topics treated with such scorn? In part that is what this story is
about.
*****
About two months
have passed since I sent the message to my ex and I’m feeling good. I arrive at
my building. It’s about 4 pm. I’m tired. As I enter the hallway a large person
is hanging in the shadows at the end of the dark corridor. I feel safe in the
neighborhood and my building, so I don’t take a closer look at the figure in
the distance. Ann Arbor is one of the most diverse cities in the world, and
that is one reason I love it. It is a safe community as long as you know where
to go, and where not to go at different times of the day. I take another deep
breath as I look at my phone and consider all the good choices I have made
recently, including breaking up with my useless boyfriend. I feel proud of
myself.
Although I don’t
miss him, on occasion I flip through a few pictures of us. Soon I will probably
delete them. My ex is one of those husky types who stands about 6’4”. He is
about double my size. I was impressed by him in the beginning for all the wrong
reasons. He is full of muscle, former military, and black belt. The more I got
to know him, the more uncomfortable I felt around him. He is in his late
twenties, a student, and unemployed. He loved to dictate to me what my role was
in the relationship, including how to help him out with his sexual needs. If
you are a university girl and you’ve dated a guy with too much bravado, then
you know the type.
I exhale: He’s in
another country, far away. I assure myself. I smile because I recall the
feeling of freedom I got when I sent him the message about breaking up. He is
the type to respond quickly when he disagrees, so his no-response is a great
sign.
I feel movement
near me -- like someone is approaching me, so I look up. My heart stops and my breathing becomes
constricted. I feel my body shaking. My hand trembles so much that I almost
drop my phone.
My ex is standing
so close to me that he is literally towering over me.
“Hi. What are you
doing here?”
I haven’t seen
him face to face in about a year. I’m immediately startled at how weak my voice
is. Using baby steps, I retreat into the wall behind me, which causes me to
feel trapped.
“Mi-young, I want
to talk with you. I’m not happy with how you ended our relationship. I decided
to fight for you, so here I am.”
He pauses, stares
at me, and asks a stupid question.
“So I’m here for
you. I love you. Good?”
“Huh?”
“If I don’t fight
for you -- I’ll regret it.”
He smiles at me
encouragingly, like I should jump up and hug him. Instead, my face goes pale.
Since I’m Asian, going pale means my face turns really white. My mouth drops
open but no words come out. I’m dumbfounded:
You can’t be this
stupid.
As soon as I
think this, I fear that maybe he heard me, so instead of saying more, I only
stare, looking for any sign of anger from him. None. As usual, he is not watching
or trying to understand me. He is gesturing and telling me things, trying to
get my submission.
His definition of
what is romantic is one of the reasons why I broke up with him. He never tuned
in to how I felt. He missed so many cues about why his behavior often startled
me. When I confronted him about his not-so-romantic gestures, he told me it was
my job to accept his personality because this is how he shows love and
affection.
On multiple
occasions he said to me, “Get used to it — this is how I express love.”
I’m shaking and I
don’t think he realizes he is the one causing it. But then again, maybe he
does. What an asshole. But I gotta say something, so I blurt out the first
sound that comes to my mind.
“What?”
I said, ''I'm
here for you. Good?”
My mind is trying
to make sense of this, so I’m not paying attention to what he is saying to me.
I look around nervously and look back at him. Each time he repeats himself, my
eyes blink. This pattern repeats at least three or four times. The problem is
when I blink, I sort of forget what he just said.
That is the only
sound I make as many scenarios run through my mind. One scenario is that we’ll
go up to my room, he’ll tell me to relax, and he won’t leave until I agree to
start dating again. Then to celebrate it, he’ll force me to have sex with him.
I try to stop my wandering mind, but I’m also afraid to say no to letting him
go to my home, which is a small one-person studio-type apartment, because I
don't know what he might do if I make him angry. He has a temper and I have
seen it before, which is another reason I broke up with him.
“What?”
His demeanor is
demanding an answer. Once I realize my blinking eyes are not enough of a
response, I say the only word I can.
“Ok.”
I’m not sure what
I just agreed to, but it triggers a response from him that I’m used to. He
likes to do this nod and frown look. It’s his way of saying, “You’re kind of
slow today, but I’ve learned to deal with it.”
“Sorry, but you
just really surprised me.”
I hate saying
sorry, when I really want to say, “Go to hell and leave me alone you asshole.”
But I hold my tongue.
I want to express
my anger by shouting, but I see little purpose. I tried it in the past and he
treated me like I was the crazy one. So I look at him with a nod, giving him
the cue that I don’t have more to say.
“Let’s leave this
hallway Mi-young and go upstairs to your apartment. We need to talk in
private.”
There aren’t any
people around, so what he really means is “I am going to force you to take me
back as your boyfriend, so we’ll do this in an environment where I have more
control.”
“Um.”
Guilt and
confusion are now filling my mind. I want to shout “help,” but I feel like a
guilty flirt. Being raised in a Christian home, the guilt I carry for having
sex with him is also guiding my emotions and their confusing conclusions. He
can easily accuse me of leading him on in the past. I can hear him calling me a
tease as he describes our past sexual experiences. I was less than a pro in bed
with him. Somehow, these memories also have caused me to feel much shame.
What has further
fueled all this confusion? I became close to a small group of European girls
during my earlier university days. They often commented to me about how I
overthink sex. I was confused by their comments -- I am still confused by their
comments. I’m open to the idea of having
sex with him if it means it will settle him down. How do I make these choices?
I’m so conflicted that I want to scream rape, but he hasn’t done anything —
yet.
“Let’s go,
Mi-young.”
I follow him to
my apartment. Upon arriving near my door, in the common areas, I look for
someone I can send a rescue signal to, but the place is deserted; either
everyone is gone or they are in their rooms. I know that in one or two hours,
the place will be busy, especially the kitchen area.
A well known
script goes through my mind, “You’re such a flirt. You can’t have a boyfriend
like this without getting naked and servicing him. . .”
We approach my
room and he gestures for the key. He knows this is inappropriate because I
should be the one to invite him in. I submit. He takes the key, opens the
locked door and we both go in. I notice how he locks the door and motions for
me to take a seat while placing the key in its place near the door. I make a
motion to move towards the door, but he uses his whole body to block the
opening while he nods “No.” I grab my single chair, which I use at my desk,
hoping he doesn’t invite me to sit next to him, so he can get romantic on the
bed.
As luck would
have it, he starts his grand and well-prepared speech while he is standing. I
see him shake a little. It’s a gallant speech about how he has changed in the
past year. While delivering it, he stops a few times as though he is reading
from a teleprompter and needs a minute to find his place.
At this point, my
level of confusion is at a high point. I hate him so much and know I will never
trust him again. But as that emotion comes and goes, guilt shows up to remind
me what a flirt I am, which arguably makes his actions understandable. I don’t
really understand him at all, although we’ve known each other for more than two
years. I don’t know my role, so the confusion rushes in more. This was the
ideal type of man that my imagination came up with. It was part of my dream
world. Now I have him and I’m confused by why I don’t want him.
As he talks and
talks about whatever, I spend the time calibrating his mood while smiling and
nodding when I think it’s the appropriate time. He probably worked on his
speech non-stop for at least a few days. In fairness, he is trying so hard.
He finishes,
obviously happy it’s over and happy to take a seat on the bed.
“So, can we give
this a try?”
I lie a lot.
“I still have
feelings for you but your surprise visit has me confused. I don’t know what I
want now, so I need time to think.”
I then make some
shit up, knowing it’ll force him to do one thing that is difficult for him to
do: think about me. My goal is to force him, if it’s possible, to think about my
feelings. If I succeed in changing him, this will be an incredible achievement.
I have his attention, so it’s my chance to take back a little control.
“I tried to
contact you a year ago and you did not want to see me. I even offered to fly to
your hometown. You said no. I had feelings for you then but now, I’m not sure.”
I exhale louder
than I had intended as his demeanor changes and he noticeably becomes more
relaxed. He nods as though he heard what I said but I’m guessing he is too busy
trying to decide what he will say next to sort out what I just shared.
At this point I
feel sorry for him. I want to have empathy for him; after all, we have a sexual
history and I want it to have some value. You guessed it, I’m getting confused
again. When I am left to figure this stuff out on my own, I get confused.
As I stare at
him, I force a smile and a nod, now and then. All of this takes so much energy
because I know what I really want to say at this moment:
I don't trust you
-- you fucking crazy bastard. You are forcing me to stay in my home. I don’t
even know if you plan to rape me.
As I think this,
I pretend to cough because I like the feeling of covering my mouth as I think
these thoughts.
I try to relax,
but I’m so confused, so I reassure myself:
Soon my flatmates
will arrive. If you touch me, I’ll scream and accuse you of rape!
Another thought
rushes in:
Do I have the
right to feel this way? We’ve had sex. Maybe I deserve to be treated this way.
I just don’t know.
I finally look at
a clock and realize that I’ve been sitting and listening to him try to convince
me that he loves me for more than an hour. As his speech slows, I find the courage to
tell him I want to leave the home to get fresh air and buy something to drink.
He appears happy about my suggestion as he waves at me to leave. I’m guessing
he is tired and wants to sit and rest.
As I arrive at
the first floor and exit the building, a campus security guard notices I’m
upset. He asks me if he can help, but a brief movie runs through my mind about
how my ex might respond if he is escorted out of my building by security or the
police.
“Thank you for
your concern. My ex-boyfriend is here but he’ll leave soon. Can I take your
number and call if I need help?”
He nods and gives
me a few words of encouragement, such as “we are always nearby,” or something
like that.
Only one thought
has been going through my mind about how to resolve this issue. Only one
person’s name comes to my mind. I squeeze my fist to show I have power, and as
I head back to the apartment, I make a promise to myself.
If RK agrees with
me that my ex is crazy, I’m going to tell my ex to leave me alone — forever.
Since I have the number for security, I gotta figure this out and end my
confusion soon.
For the first
time since I saw my ex over one hour ago, I’m feeling a bit better.
I return to my
apartment, still surprised that he doesn’t notice how I’m shaking. Every time I
see him, I start shaking. He stays a little longer, God only knows why, and he
finally leaves. As he exits the building, I watch him leave. He uses that strut
of his; the power walk that I hate.
I lock the door,
sit on my bed, grab my favorite stuffed animal and a blanket, and cry for an
unknown amount of time.
At first, I
mentally try to timeline the events. Realizing my mind is moving too quickly, I
grab paper and pencil and do a little writing. As I prepare my case for my chat
with RK, it feels like going before a judge and jury with no lawyer. I feel
terrible. I know I’ve done questionable things, so I’m ready to be judged.
I rehearse for
the call:
“Hi RK. Do you
think I’m right or wrong? Do you think he is a bad boyfriend or perhaps I
should have been more thoughtful with the break-up? I mean, I kind of stalked
him by flying to another country to visit him without notice. I even offered to
return if he invited me. Granted he never suggested he was angry or afraid of
me. On the contrary, he refused to see me when I surprised him because he was
busy with “other things.”
“I’m so confused.
What is my responsibility here? Would you say I’m maybe a stalker, kind of a
little bit?”
That little voice
in my head keeps condemning me by reminding me that RK will explain what I did
wrong. I call that little voice my mother because it sounds so much like
her.
My world has changed. It took so much courage to send my ex the goodbye message only two months earlier. He never responded to that message by text or a call, instead, he did an act that in my book is unforgivable: He showed up uninvited, made me a prisoner in my own home, and then left expecting more visits in the next few days, with the unspoken expectation of having sex.
Chapter 2
Time
to Make a Call
I don’t think I can cry anymore, so it’s time to
make a call. It’s time to call RK, my mentor and friend. I send a message
first.


*****
“How are you?”
“I’m not sure. My
ex is back.”
“Your ex is back.
What do you mean?”
“He showed up
this afternoon, forced me to go to my apartment, and demanded that I let him
try to win me back. He told me he loved me and our relationship deserves a
second chance.”
“You did send him
the message that said it was over, correct?”
“Yeah. But he's
here now. He’s in the city, probably a few blocks away in a hotel room. I
agreed to meet with him for coffee or lunch tomorrow or soon while he held me
captive in my home. I figured the only way to get him to leave was to agree to
meet with him.”
“Wow. You must be
terrified. So he held you as a prisoner in your own home for a couple of
hours?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to ask
you a few more questions. If you don't feel comfortable answering, you are free
to tell me that, ok?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he force
himself on you sexually?”
“No, but I can
kind of feel it coming. He’ll be here for a week. You know how these guys are.
You agree with them about everything and then to prove the couple thing is
still on, sex is kind of required.”
“Sure.”
“Did he use force
to kiss or hug you?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
“Finally, you
said he forced you to stay in your home for more than an hour as he explained
his feelings and actions. Did he physically block the door?”
“At times, like
in the beginning. It’s hard for me to remember the details. I thought I heard
someone in the common areas, but when I went to check, he kind of pushed me
away and blocked the door. He did it with a smile on his face, suggesting being
playful, but I honestly don’t think I could have gotten past him and out the
door.”
There is a long
pause. I think RK is taking notes.
“Before we go on,
are you safe now?”
“Yeah. That’s why
I’m calling you. I need your honest opinion about this. You know I can’t call
my mom.”
“Sure. So tell
me, do you want to end this soon?”
“I think so. He’s
been gone for a few hours. As soon as he left, I told my flatmates all about
it. They said they would not let him in, but one or two of them said I can
relax because I’m probably overthinking it. But they all said they would watch
out for him. I think everyone has his picture now. He doesn’t have a key to the
house and the security guards in the building gave me their number and made a
note. One of the campus security officers told me they are always nearby and I
just showed them a picture of him.”
“Ok. tomorrow,
we’ll get him to see this in a different way.”
“RK, I have a
question. I’m struggling with confusion and guilt. Am I overthinking this? I
mean, do I have the right to tell him to go away? Do I have the right to break
up with him? I’m so confused. I feel like maybe I owe him something, but I
don’t know what it might be.”
“Your history
with him includes sex, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. Your
confusion is completely understandable, and you owe him nothing. All you need
to do now is accept what I'm saying is true. Soon, you’ll believe it and feel
it. For now, just accept that your confusion will pass.”
“Do you think I
can do anything else to make me safer?”
“No, I don’t
think he’ll return tonight. We can discuss it later. You need to get some rest.
If your mind is racing, just remind yourself that you are safe. Can you find a
friend to join you this evening and for the events tomorrow?”
“Yes. Some of my
flatmates have returned. They’ll be in for the evening. He’s not gonna get past
any of them or the security on the first floor.”
“Good. Do the
breathing activities also.”
"Of course.”
“Tomorrow will be
eventful.”
“What events?”
“I’ll get
involved. All I need to do is change how you feel about this situation and he
will go away.”
"Are you
sure? How will you do that?”
RK tries to
explain it but I’m too fatigued, so pretend to understand and we end the
call.
Chapter
3
A Lonely and Scary Night
Hours have
passed. I’m home alone. Making this choice was easy. I have a few flatmates
that I told the story to. One girl gave me a big hug and assured me, “That guy
you just showed me the picture of isn’t gonna bother.”
Lying on my bed
with the door locked, I’ve made the choice to be strong — independent — but
that childhood voice, who I suspect is the result of my mother’s incessant
verbal prodding, continues to remind me of its stupid opinions. I mentioned
earlier I gave it a name: my mother. I
believe it’s my mother’s voice because of its rhythm and word choices, yet more
importantly, I believe it’s her voice because it triggers in me so much
negativity. Only my mother has this power. So often when she offers (without me
requesting it) her loving-motherly-correction as she likes to call it, I never
feel better or empowered. I feel the opposite; I feel needy and confused. In
the midst of these "lectures", I notice how good she is at reminding
me how great her parenting skills are.
If I disagree
with any of her opinions, the verbal shit continues.
I guess you can
say that my mom puts me in a zombie trance. I feel dead as she rants, and when
she is finished, I’m still able to move around and infect other people with my
anger and depression. RK is the only one who consistently notices when I’m in
this type of trance. When he hears it in my voice, or sees it in my face, he
breaks me out. He’s the only one who knows how to do it.
What does the
voice say? There are many variations, but here’s an example:
“You are a
pitiful child. So needy. You must be stronger like your mother. She is your
model. She is strong and she refuses to let her daughter, her only daughter, be
so childish and so helpless. Shame on you.”
Feeling exhausted
from the day’s events, but too jumpy to sleep, I have a hard time deciding what
to do with the nervous energy. So I stand up and pace and then I sit down and
try to focus on my computer to do homework. Instead of being productive, I
wrestle with the possibility of what might happen tomorrow. The goal is to make
my ex go away. I kind of know I’m going to win this round because RK has dealt
with stalkers before. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I fear the possibility
of there being a confrontation with my ex and the police, after all, the police
are one call away and I put in speed dial the number the security officer gave
me.
I check my phone
again. Nothing new. I gaze at my watch and feel the heaviness of the night as
it comes upon me. My door is locked. My ex must pass through three or four
places to get up here and the security officers in my building have his picture
and they know I spoke with campus security and I told the building security
officers that I spoke with the police. There’s not much more I can do.
I think back
about the earlier call and a prediction RK made:
“Your ex’s
behavior towards you will change within forty-eight hours. And within two to
three days of that time, you will both feel so differently about each other
that it will be clear the relationship is over.”
"How can you
be so confident?”
“He didn’t come
all this way to win back your love. He’s here for himself. He wants to prove to
himself that he has the male bravado to do something really stupid.”
“WTF.”
“If it makes you
feel any better, you’re not that special to him. You’re not the mother of his
children. You are not his road to riches and fame. His expectation is to get
sex before he jumps on the plane. He’s probably fighting for this relationship,
if you dare to call it that, because there is nothing else for him at this
time; no one else is waiting for him back home. The two of you ended this long
ago. He has probably tried to find another girl to fill your role but you are a
hard symbol to copy. He is a simple boy from a small town in France. You are a
small and sexy-oriental girl who he is trying to score with. There is nothing
in his behavior that suggests he loves you — or that this relationship has
long-term possibilities.”
RK makes comments
like this now and again. I call it profiling. When he first made comments like
this to me years ago, it felt like we were in an episode of one of those crime
tv shows.
When I realized
this, my attitude changed towards RK. He is the first person that I have met
who actually listens and understands what I tell him. However, the fact that we
are close friends is kind of mysterious. He’s not a member of my immediate
family or a relative, such as an uncle. He’s not even a member of my church
community. He’s just a friend of the family that wants to see our family heal.
I'm trying to force
my mind into a place of strength, but it keeps heading towards nightmare
scenarios regarding what might happen when the messages begin again. Exhausted
from the events of the day, I feel myself nodding off to sleep.
While trying to
sleep, I go in and out of trance. I toss and turn. Movies are running through
my head of what might happen tomorrow. I conclude there are only two potential
ways this will go. I’m too confused and tired to know which is true. Time will
tell.
The first dream
is me standing up to my ex. I walk into the coffee shop with three girlfriends.
We take our seats next to him and every one offers introductions. I’m learning
how to read people, so I watch him to see signs of him being nervous, like him
looking around the room, checking his watch way too often, and not making eye
contact when any one of us looks at him to ask a question.
Ashley is the
first. She looks directly at my ex and gains his full attention. “Ok, I got a
question for you. How can we be sure you love Mi-young?”
“Good question.
Do you think I would have flown all the way here if I didn’t?”
We all notice he
is speaking as though he’s on trial. As he offers each stupid answer, Ashley
just stares at him like he is a terrible liar.
“Creepy,” she
says while turning back in our direction.
Liz and her exchange a nod and we all get up and leave.
About five
minutes later, I send him a message. A really simple one:

He doesn’t respond.
The second dream takes a different path. In the end, my girlfriends like
him and they tell me I’m overthinking everything. As I begin to feel all of
these people turn on me, I wake up.
I sit up in my bed, sweaty. I feel worse. I don’t know what my
unconscious mind is trying to tell me with these dreams, but it’s clear that
when I start texting tomorrow, I’ll be tired — sleep-deprived.
I’m not sure that I'll be able to handle this, so I’m making a promise to
myself.
“Whatever RK wants me to do, I’ll do it.”
“Mind, stop wandering.”
Some might say I’m overthinking this and some might say I shouldn’t stay
in my home tonight, but it was my duty to make the best choices for me and these
are the choices I have made.
I struggle with another emotion. I want to call my mother and scream,
“Why did you train me so I would never want to call you when I feel this sad,
scared or in danger?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
I love screaming this question when having a chat with RK because he
changes my focus. He often has asked, “How can we help you to stop asking
yourself this question because it offers little chance for growth." When he first said this, I said, “Huh?” He
said, “New question. ‘What can I learn from this experience as I move on’?”
At each step in this confusion, I always have one person I can count on
to sort this out. You guessed it. He told me he is thankful for broken families
because it ensures he will always have a job and he enjoys watching people heal
and grow.
However, I felt a bit angry towards even RK a few minutes ago because I
wanted this confrontation to have been over hours ago. Now, I feel guilty for
thinking badly about him; after all, I called him out of the blue, demanded his
time for about an hour, off the books. Yet, he stopped what he was doing to
take my call. He has even offered to follow up tomorrow just because he cares
about me. Somehow, I found a way to get angry with him.
The guilt returns, I lay in bed and cry a bit more, until I doze off
again.