I was sexually assaulted on my year abroad

After a shaky start, by November I was loving my time on my year abroad. I felt totally at home, had made a fab group of friends and was enjoying my placement. Your parents worry about your year abroad, and you spending a uni year in a completely different city all over again.

I treated the nightlife with the same comfort as I did back at uni, where everyone knows everyone and you will never be without a group to walk you home. I was completely care free (some would say careless). I never even imagined what happened would happen to me. I was having a normal night out in Spain. We were at my favourite club and having a good time, until suddenly I realised my friends had left, each thinking I was with someone else.

I carelessly thought I’d take the walk home on my own: It was only fifteen minutes and was a relatively busy street. It was as I was leaving that he grabbed me by the waist. In a drunken haze I saw his face, his snapback and felt his hand slide into mine as he led me outside. I don’t remember the next twenty minutes or so. I have a blurred image of being in a 24-hour convenience store, but that could have been either on my way to the club or on the way home.

My next vivid memory is of me lying on my bed, with this stranger inside me. His hands were holding my face to the side so that all I could see were my clothes on the floor. I felt paralysed until the pain was too awful that I started crying out and pushing at him. I don’t know after how long, but finally he pushed me back, dressed, and left. I was hysterical. After shakily calling my friend from home who was in England, I found my flatmate who held me until I was asleep.

The next day I felt numb. My friend came over, who offered to take me to the police. I still remember that friend’s words vividly. He was the only one to say it at the time, and the only one who’s said it since. Rape. I still don’t call it that though.

But I couldn’t go to the police as I didn’t want my family to know. It would have hurt them more than it had hurt me, it’s probably their worst nightmare. Most importantly I wanted it to affect my life as little as possible. I was terrified of not being allowed out in future or of my parents’ being so worried that I was flown home.

I wanted to carry on as normal as possible, and not let my year abroad be ruined by the cruelty of a stranger. I took the following Monday off work and didn’t leave my flat for 48 hours. A month later I was clearing out some of my rubbish and found the man’s cigarette papers and metro cards in my room and felt sick. The sound of his breathing and the feeling of his body forcing mine down sometimes flash through me even today.

In the months that have followed I still go out, although if someone even touches me in the club I break down and have to be taken home. I don’t like dancing with guys I don’t know, and I would never let someone buy me a drink. I used to be pretty confident in approaching boys on nights out and allowed myself to be approached, but not anymore.

Telling my friends has helped me enormously. If they see me surrounded by people I don’t know when we are out, they will take me elsewhere. I’ve become a lot more aware on nights out. I drink less, I would never walk home on my own from a club and I would never let one of my girls leave on her own.

Although what happened will always hurt, I have continued with my life. I still live in the same city, sleep in the same bed, and have dated, but if I walk home on my own after dark I feel panicky and am easily startled.

It’s not something you can ever prepare yourself for. It’s something that happens to other people. On your year abroad you can get sucked into this constant state of being on holiday, which shuts you off from the harsh realities of big cities at 4am.

But the truth is you need to be even more aware on your year abroad. After just a couple of months you will never truly know a place and life can be just as brutal as back home.