‘Rapist’ who got away
The world is a totally different battleground for little girls and boys, but no one ever realises it till they’re much older. None of my male friends have ever asked me to escort them to their car at night: they stride purposefully to their intended destination without a second glance in either direction, whatever the time.
Yet, since the age of nine, when I noticed that my overdeveloped hips were going to cause me trouble, I have walked with keys in my hands and nervous glances over my shoulders whenever I hear footsteps behind me at night. In fact, as a general rule, after a night out, I always ask my friends to walk me to the car. A few months ago, I didn’t.
It was late and I had been vying to go home for about an hour, but my friends, drunk on the prospect of meeting someone and a discrete amount of alcohol, wanted to spend another pointless hour on a dying dance floor. After waiting around like a muppet, I decided that I’d make my way home. Being guys, they simply wished me goodnight and told me to message them when I got home.
I started to walk up a well-lit street only to realise almost instantly that I was being followed. I kept walking briskly, praying that the person...