Assaulted by taxi driver

I’m 20. Two nights ago, I was out with friends at a club and we shared an Uber home, and I was the last drop-off.

The driver was a man in his 50s. Friendly in that overly familiar way. He kept chatting after everyone else got out. I didn’t think much of it. I was tipsy, tired, just trying to get home.

When we got to my place, I struggled with my keys. My hands weren’t steady, and I kept fumbling. He got out of the car and said, “Let me help.” I didn’t feel scared just awkward. I didn’t expect anything.

But as I stood at the door, he came up behind me. He reached around, guiding my hand toward the door and while doing that, he slid his other hand up under my dress.

Everything in me shut down. I didn’t push him off. I didn’t scream. I couldn’t even speak. Somehow I got the door open, and he followed me inside. I didn’t ask him to come in.

Inside, it all happened so fast. He kept touching me, and I just shut off. My body didn’t respond. I was drunk, confused, numb.

He raped me on my sofa and got up and left. The next morning, I got a text from him I must have gave him my number. He said, “Last night was amazing. You’re stunning.” Like it was mutual. Like we’d hooked up. But I didn’t say yes. I never said yes.

Yesterday, I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. But that whole day, waiting to find out I was sick with fear. Like my body didn’t even belong to me anymore.

It’s only been two days. I haven’t told anyone. I don’t know what to do, or even what to call it out loud yet. But I know this: I didn’t want it. I didn’t invite it. And it wasn’t my fault.

He saw I was drunk. He saw I was vulnerable. And he took advantage of that. He violated me.

I’m trying to find the words now not just for what happened, but for how it’s made me feel. Small. Broken. Numb. Angry. Guilty, even when I know deep down I shouldn’t be.