I was living overseas, Tel Aviv actually, and I was raped by a stranger that I trusted. I was 20. He was kind at first, enough to make someone like me who usually trusts no one trust him. He was so good at being charming and masking being a psychopath. For a long time I thought it was my fault, my crime, who goes to a stranger’s apartment? Who goes to the apartment of someone they knew for an hour, who’s last name they didn’t know? I did. Lots of people do. And when I got there I said I was going to leave, then I was blitzed and raped. He didn’t hit me, he used enough force until I froze and was silent. The rape was violent, and there was so much pain. My pelvis still will hurt when I am stressed out to this day, and I got pelvic inflammatory disease afterward. Unfortunately, while rape isn’t handled well anywhere, it was really poorly handled in Tel Aviv and the medical system ended up making the crime worse. He left no evidence, and while he was a stranger to me he had my phone number and name and so used both to contact me further and used gaslighting to confuse me further. He told me that I wouldn’t be able to report, no evidence, in his own sick way before I could escape and leave. As a confrontational person it still kills me that I could do nothing. And he’s still out there and nothing will be done. I could do nothing, I resisted but couldn’t successfully fight back either during or after. I was diagnosed months later with PTSD. And that’s where I am now, trying to keep on crawling through.