I had dreamed of being here in this city, and now I finally had my chance. I stepped off the plane, fresh-faced, looking forward to spending time with friends new and old, starting a new job, and working as hard as I could to be better.

Two weeks into my new life, I was getting used to the city. Everything was still so new and exciting, and I was agreeable to anything. A friend and I decided to go out. It was a long night, bar 1 to bar 2 to club 1 to bar 3. Somewhere along the way, my drink was drugged and I got separated from my friend. I don't remember much, but this is when my assault happened.

I woke up in the morning in an apartment I didn't recognize. It was 7 AM and I found my way home. I didn't cry. I took a shower. I took a nap. When I was up again, the assault came back to me. I went to the hospital. They did a rape kit and asked me question after question. I spoke to six different people, crowded in a room. I decided against filing a police report. They gave me drugs to take. "I wish I could hurt him", the nurse told me as he drew my blood. I didn't know what to say. I tried a smile and said thank you. I took the medications and tried to put the entire thing behind me. I never even went to the follow-up appointments.

I never told anyone about my assault. It never felt like it was the right time or place to mention it. I didn't want to speak out about my assault, and then always have that horrible experience be associated with me. I realize now, it's not something I should need to hide.