The man behind me — I knew it was a man even before I turned around — mumbled something and then shoved me hard into the door. It was only a second, maybe two, but I knew right away what he was doing. He was shoving me into the closed entryway, away from the street, away from view. The door was heavy and made of metal and I knew that if he could get it shut behind me, he could kill me. He could rape me. One half of my life was on the outside of the door and the other was on the inside. And so I screamed.