I was 17 years old and was at a house party. The party was about a 15 min drive from my home. A good friend of my ex had promised to take me home by car after the party. I didn’t have my driver’s license yet – he was older and in possession of his own car. Once on our way, he took different roads, roads I didn’t know. I asked him where we were going, and he didn’t really answer me. After about 10 minutes of driving around, we arrived at a remote parking lot. Here he got very handsy. He stroked my private parts. I had to push his hands away several times, but he kept going. Slowly but surely his hand slipped underneath my bra… I froze. Whilst I let him touch me all over, I was saying prayers in my head, hoping it would be over quickly. I noticed he was getting tired and waited in silence until he fell asleep. After two to three hours, I slowly and as quietly as possible crept out of his car. I remember being terrified of him waking up. Once out of the car, I started running with shaking hands and legs and with my heart in my throat, I ran to a bicycle I had luckily seen from the car (call it coincidence or not). I have never cycled home that quickly, looking over my shoulder whilst being upset, angry and frustrated; why didn’t I fight back? Why didn’t I get angry with him? Why didn’t I dare to step out of the car quicker? I told my ex about what happened the same day, he said: ‘What did you think? That you would be dropped off and you would have to do nothing in return? This is the least you could have done for him!’. At the time, my ex was the only one who knew. I believed his words and blamed myself partly. It has been 8 years, and I still get the chills thinking back to that night.