< 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.

 

This happened a very long time ago, back in 2006. I was 18. I was making my way home, and it was around midnight. I’d gotten off the metro, but had already missed the last minibus. I decided not to book a taxi — I didn’t want to wait — and went up to the drivers who were already standing around waiting for customers.

I approached the first car, gave my address, and the fare. The driver opened the front passenger door and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

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Riding in taxis was a normal thing for me, and I usually sat in the back — but the door was already open, and I sat in the front. The driver looked young — around 25. We talked, he asked me things, and it all seemed safe. I can’t reconstruct the sequence of events precisely, because I have been trying to erase them from my memory since I was 18.

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The drive to my house was about 15 minutes. As we were approaching, he asked whether there was somewhere quiet around here where we could “be alone.” I said I needed to get home. He replied: “We’ll be quick, we’ll just talk…”

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My house is in a residential area — houses on one side, a forest on the other. I pointed to where to stop. He drove straight past my house; I said “Here, it’s here,” — but he didn’t react. Through the window, I watched my house go past.

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At that point, I understood I had gotten myself into a bad situation, but I tried not to show that I was nervous. Firstly, I didn’t want to provoke him, because I had no idea what to expect from him. Secondly, I thought it would make it easier for me to negotiate.

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He asked whether I had a boyfriend, and asked about my relationship with him. Then he started suggesting that we have sex. I told him I didn’t want to and that I had my period. He said: “Come on, you want to,” — I said: “No, I don’t.” “You’ll enjoy it, I’m an expert at this, I’ll make it good for you…”

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What kind of person, after driving an unfamiliar girl into a forest without her consent, honestly expects her to want sex?

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After that, he kept trying to persuade me. I don’t remember exactly whether he touched me, but then he said he was too aroused and I’d have to at least masturbate him. He unzipped his trousers.

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Did I want to do that? Absolutely not — but no one was asking me. Did I say no? No, I didn’t — because I was frightened, I wanted it to be over, I wanted to finally get home, I didn’t want to provoke him, and I was 100% determined not to be raped. I did what he wanted. What happened after that, I don’t remember. The car moved, and we were outside my house. He was saying something about how great I was and how he’d love a girl like me. I handed him the money we’d agreed on — he laughed and said: “No need…”

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I was home. The first place I went was the bathroom. I told myself I had done everything I could to prevent sexual contact. I promised myself I would forget it and never think about it again. The only thing that happened was: I got in a taxi, I got home — that’s all.

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I felt ashamed and disgusted, but also relieved to be safe. I told no one. I didn’t think of it as any kind of event, and I didn’t consider myself a victim, because there was no rape. But I couldn’t forget it. I kept thinking about it — and still do: did I do everything right? Could I have prevented any contact at all? Could I have refused to touch him? It hurts deeply to admit that somewhere deep in my mind I still doubt myself: was this a story of survival, or a story of weakness and not being able to say no :(((

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Karina; story shared in 2023 as part of the “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence” campaign