I never saw my attacker again and I hope I never do. I’m terrified that I might strangle him, or start screaming, “You rapist!” in the streets.

But even more terrifying is the fear that he might turn around and say, “It was your fault for wearing a tank top. You were asking for it. You should have said no sooner.”

And I’ll start crying on the sidewalk and sink back into the depths of depression, from which I had come…