It’s dark, and I’m acutely aware of people staring at me on the street. I can feel their gaze burning into my back, my sides, my chest. I can hear them laugh. They see me as weak. They’re probably not wrong.

I swim in a sea of sharks.

A group of men leaning against a wall across the road stand to attention as they see me. They walk, slowly, in parallel with me, not keeping up but not straying too far behind. I feel my chest tighten as one of them begins to cross the road, heading in my direction, speeding up. I hold my coat closed around me, as though the thin fabric will protect me.

I’ve been here before. I can’t run. If I run, he’ll just give chase. Walking is the best way to delay what will happen. Walking gives me time.

He walks beside me, asking questions. There’s a sing-song cadence to his voice, as though this is all part of some game. He’s smiling. I’m not. I’ve never been more scared.

All too quickly, I’m up against a wall, and he reveals his intentions. All I have left is my fear.