I was traveling across France heading into Italy, mostly hitching and traveling in a general direction. I was somewhere near the border, but that was about what I knew.
I stopped to ask a man for directions, and he asked me to pay him for his help. I said I had no money, which he found funny.
He took off my pack, and told me to get ready. I asked “for what?”, which he also found funny. He kicked out my legs, and elbowed me in the belly. He took off all my clothes, and threatened to beat me to death.
He raped me several times, which I had never done any of this sexuality before, forcing me to renew his erection by oral, so he could continue. This could only be described as disgusting.
He kept me there until after dark, laughing as he took my pack and all my clothes, leaving me beaten, bloody, and exhausted, with nothing to my name. I tired to walk, but collapsed until morning.
I was able to flag down a truck, and a couple took me to a police station. They almost wanted to arrest me for indecent exposure, and could care less what was done to me, but I asked for the US Embassy, and they put me in touch. The Embassy put me up until they could replace my passport, and put me on a plane.
No one cares that I was assaulted, robbed, and raped.
I honestly could care less as long as I got home.
My parents picked me up at the airport, and I broke down. After a while bawling at the top of my lungs, they took me home. It had been almost 4 weeks since he did it, and I finally let the emotions out, and grabbed a bottle of Jack until I felt better, in other words passed out. Later after waking to use the john, I drank myself out again. My mother had a talk, but I wasn’t listening, but she got me to help in spite of myself before I went too far.
It’s over now, I’m in a better mental place. I felt left alone, which was only part true, as my help was just a little far.
— Janet, age 26