My Campus Nightmare

I stood in a crowded corner of the subway, my clothes disheveled, holding onto a handrail.

A strange man pressed tightly against me from behind.

As the train car swayed, his hand moved beneath my skirt, appearing and disappearing.

My heart felt like a boat floating on clouds, drifting endlessly, unable to come down.

Through the window's reflection, I could see my own flushed and shy face, and the intoxicated expression of the man behind me.

My mind echoed with my ex-boyfriend's words when he broke up with me.

"You're like a dead fish in bed, no passion at all..."

My name is Isabella Blanchet, a college student.

As an only child, my parents were extremely strict, forbidding me from interacting with boys.

My free time was always occupied with dance practice.

Human nature is like that—the more you suppress it, the harder it rebounds.

After starting college, I quickly got a boyfriend and moved in with him.

But I never dreamed that when he discovered I wasn't a virgin, he completely changed.

He labeled me a slut.

In bed, he made all sorts of demands, wanting me to cater him like those bad women in movies.

Until he finally broke up with me.

"Do you think... I'm promiscuous?" I turned my head and whispered to the stranger behind me.

He seemed surprised that I spoke to him, pausing for a moment.

Then his hand reached out again.

"I like women like you—innocent on the surface, but passionate inside..."

Passionate?

His answer didn't satisfy me, because I felt no fondness for sex.

I didn't even know who I lost my virginity to.

It was right after freshman orientation, when I had just broken free from my parents' control.

I felt like a bird released from its cage, utterly free.

Soon, I joined the Alumni Association and attended a social dinner organized by an upperclassman.

I don't remember the exact number of people, only that there were three tables, with more men than women.

At the dinner, no matter the age, if there was a pretty girl, the guys would always try to get her drunk.

And I didn't refuse any of the drinks offered to me.

Unsurprisingly, I got drunk.

So drunk I couldn't walk, couldn't hear clearly, couldn't recognize anyone.

My mind and body went completely limp.

I only remember a few guys helping me up and walking me somewhere.

I was too drunk to even lift my legs.

They carried me, then passed through an uphill wooded area and laid me on a soft mattress.

Then, I had a dream.

In the dream, I was like a small boat in turbulent waves, lifted to the crest by a hurricane before crashing down.

Or like a little white rabbit stumbling into a wolf den, torn apart and devoured.

My throat felt parched, and I desperately wanted water.

But my mouth seemed stuffed with something strange, making it hard to breathe.

I could only suck frantically,expecting a drop of moisture to soothe my burning throat.

It was the most exhausting and painful night of my life.

When I woke up, I found myself naked, dirty, and sticky, lying on a mattress.

My bra, socks, panties, and dress were scattered everywhere.

The surroundings were an isolated grove.

A stray dog in the distance locked eyes with me for a few seconds before running away.

At 18, in my first month of college, I was violated by male students from my hometown.

I didn't tell anyone.

I was too scared to report it, too scared to even investigate.

I didn't know who they were—or how many there were.

How could I ask each one?

From that day on, I became sensitive and withdrawn.