< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.

 

I was walking back to my dorm at midnight. He started following me at a pedestrian crossing, up from the avenue, toward the university. I turned around: couldn’t see the face, only a tall silhouette in trousers. I walked on, chose a path lit by streetlights. No people. The dorm was 150 meters away. I was next to the uni, I glanced around.

Next, everything happened very fast: he ran up from behind and started choking me. I bit him, kicked my legs, tried using my paper spray, but he fell on the pavement. Then, he dragged me down and chocked with his hands. My eyes were growing dark. I didn’t want to leave my body for him to have his way with it. I started screaming — it wasn’t a human scream, for a long time, still kicking. Eventually, he let me go and ran away.

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I notified the security, but they were only stretching out time before calling the police. The police filed a report, drove around the area, and that was it. I was shaking, I was scared. Paranoia couldn’t release me all night: I felt that he was behind the door, that he would climb through the balcony and my window.

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Uni’s administration really didn’t want me to go public with this. Opinions split 50/50: whether it was me who was at fault or the attacker. I never went through with involving the police. I was threatened with expulsion. And all this at the faculty of psychology and pedagogy.

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Anonymous author; story shared in 2024 as part of the campaign “16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence.”