One night a few years back, I took a cab from school to a pretty sketchy part of town to watch a friend's play. I only realized after the cab dropped me off that I was on the wrong end of the street - it was dark but tbh I didn't think anything of walking about 8 buildings down to the venue.

As I was walking, I suddenly felt really frightened and instinctively clutched a crucifix-necklace I've worn since I was a child (I'm Catholic). Suddenly a motorcycle drove by and the girl riding along grabbed my shoulder bag. Because I was clutching my necklace, my arm formed a sort of hook and before I knew it I was being dragged about 3 buildings down. People started shouting at the pair on the bike so the girl let go. They drove away with nothing.

Suddenly I was in the middle or a dark sketchy road and all these people were rushing towards me. Again, not the best part of town so most of the people coming to my rescue were not only men - they were informal settlers from the nearby shanties. Having been sexually assaulted before, I was even more frightened. Out of instinct, I stood up and ran, shouting at them I was fine. Almost got hit by a car running across the road, but I kept going until I hit the nearest well-lit establishment, a pizza place.

A server opened the door for me and I hugged him, crying. It was then I noticed I was bleeding. Being dragged had ripped off the back part of my shirt and the skin on my left shoulderblade was scratched up pretty badly and bleeding profusely. The server later told me he thought I had been raped. I was inconsolable, could barely talk and the kind server brought me a bowl of clam chowder while waiting for police to arrive. (Sidenote: clam chowder has since become my favorite comfort food).

Terrible terrifying night. The police told me I was stupid for holding on (I didn't choose to - it all happened so fast!). What had happened was a common modus in the area and they said it was a miracle I hadn't been shot while getting dragged.