– Posted by Anonymous
He’s insisted on walking me home. It’s on the way, after all. He lives nearby. He’s drunk again, no surprise there.
I try to turn him away when we pass the station. My house is not more than 5 minutes from here. He lives in another direction. It is late. But he insists.
At my front door, he leans into me, grabs me and pulls me to him. He’s always pulling me and pushing me. Lifting me and moving me. Doing as he likes. I’m small, he’s in charge. Here we go again.
He’s holding me tightly. I push against him, try to wriggle away. But he doesn’t let go. He leans in, his dry, cracked lips wrinkling, moving closer to my face. I push more firmly against him, trying to get free. I turn my head away to at least avoid this forced kiss. “Let me go,” I say.
But I say it weakly. He’s my professor. I don’t want to make him angry. He has so much influence in my life.
I know, because I’ve unfortunately been grabbed before, that I am not always so meek when assaulted. The other time a man grabbed me on a dark street I yelled. I was angry that he would do that to me, scare me so badly, and just to touch my breast. Luckily it didn’t occur to me until later that he might have intended more. I hit that man, hard. I used elbows and knees and nails, shouting all the while, until he dropped me, startled by the fierceness of my response. But this time I’m scared.
I think about the distance between where we’re standing and my front door. I wonder if my flatmates are home. I’m determined that he won’t come inside, but if he tries? Is there anyone to wake?
“Let me go,” I say again.
“Oh come on,” he says. “You want this too. You just have to let go. You’re so repressed.”
Shaken, shaking, I am eventually let go that night.
“He’s always been nice to me.” The mantra of sexual assault apologists. This isn’t about how he treats you.