Member-only story
I Survived Sexual Assault, Twice
When I was a little boy, someone groped me. Nine years later, it happened again.
The Bus Incident
He sat beside me, out of all the empty seats.
Every time the bus bumped, he got closer and closer.
I felt his arms brushing against mine, his hands nearing the side of my thighs, crawling like a predator on the prowl.
I leaned away, faced the window, and shut my eyes it didn’t stop the tears from coming out.
Deep inside, I begged he’d go away.
But begging doesn’t do the trick for these people.
I could, however, scream for help like anyone who finds oneself in danger. I could jolt him away with all the strength ramped up by my pounding heart. I could knock him down with my fists; I wouldn’t mind if he’s bigger than me.
I imagined it already, his face battered, blood coming out his nostrils, fainting from my reckless punches, over and over again.
But none of these happened. I froze.
That morning, I made sure to buy a ticket ride back to the university on a LazyBoy-seated bus.
