#queerissues

TW: Sexual assault, assault

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Here we go stream of consciousness style. Because of you, I felt frozen. I forgot everything I'm supposed to do in that situation. Yell, kick, punch, run...something, anything. Instead I'm a block of ice. One you're chipping away at like the ugliest sculpture. Your mouth is like fire on my frozen lips and I'm unable to react. Seconds pass, maybe minutes, who knows. You've taken no notice of my discomfort. Your hands are all over my static body and my barrier is completely broken. "I don't like him," you hiss, pointing to a pleasant man dancing behind us. "Let's go make out in front of him." "No, I don't want to do that," I stammer. Hands on hips, head cocked. "Oh, you're not THAT kinda bitch, are you?" Recoiling but still unable to move. "No, I'm not." Suddenly hands on my shoulders, fingers clenching as I'm thrust backward into the pleasant man. Struggle to regain balance -WHAM. Sent flying again. Finally, miraculously, movement and thought return. I feel my body resist yours, hands throwing arms, and finally exit the dancefloor that has become hell. Eyes locked with another performer - "I'm not okay."

Days later, alone in a room with a police officer. "You did the right thing." White-knuckled, my hands catch and release tension around a coffee mug bearing the logo of my radio station, a weird comfort in such an alien place. "Thank you. I wasn't sure." Hearing the words "assault" and "sexual assault" are chilling, but necessary. I did the right thing. He won't be able to do this again. My safe place won't be violated, security measures will be taken.