I Don't Believe You by Viktoria Kadina

Once, my mom told me

it's easy to destroy a person's life with one phrase. She was right. In my case, it was "I don't believe you".

Two years ago, I entered the college I was dreaming about for my whole life. I do remember me writing about it for an essay about "My dream college" in the fifth grade. I imagined how I would decorate my dormitory and get to know my roommates. And then, the struggles and insomnia during the exam preparations weren't in vain. As soon as I got the e-mail with approval and enrolment papers, I felt such relief and happiness I'd never felt before. You feel yourself naked, laying on the grass and smelling fresh air. You feel like you're high, but don't regret about it. You feel such type of confidence when you barely care about other people. It was my day.

My friends who helped me get my stuff ready were giggling non-stop. I believe it was a hilarious thing to witness. They know me as a person who rarely smiles and is used to undergoing depressive episodes. They know I tend to keep silent even when I have a lot on my mind. But at that time it was impossible to make me shut up. I would talk about everything and nothing due to adrenaline, emotions, and high expectations.

And frankly speaking, my first college days were as amazing as I was fantasizing about. I met the people and felt that it was my place. I took to my classmates immediately and got along with a lot of guys from local communities. My mom would never believe I could initiate a chat with a stranger, but my excitement didn't have any limits. I craved to introduce myself and to become a part of this world. And then, I was totally in awe of our lecturers. Their attitudes and approach won me over. I used to be afraid of expressing my “minority opinions”, but I felt so comfortable that said each point came to my mind.

The class I was waiting for the most is The History Of Sexuality, run by one of the best teachers in the USA. I guess I chose that college because of him unconditionally. I was listening to his public talks for years and that man was my role model. I admired his innovative approach, which was always “too much” for the majority. I thought he was a genius of our times and raised money to visit one of his seminars offline. Eventually, I was in his class, listening to the speech about the appearance of sex. Wow. Life is unexpected.

My amazement was growing when he gave my pieces of writing the highest marks. He emphasized my essays are the best ones, and I'm the one who has great potential. And every next time he said it, I felt more and more awkward. He had something in his look that terrified me. Forty minutes ago, he asked me to stay after the class to discuss a special task for his “favourite student”. When the last classmate of mine left, he closed the door. Without any word, he began undressing me. I couldn't breathe or talk, I was paralysed. You may ask why didn't you do anything. But I just couldn't move. My whole perfect world was damaged in a click. I hated my childish dreams. I hated the day I got the enrolment paper. I hated my friends who helped me move to that dormitory. I hated the media that featured him. I hated me being helpless.

And now, I'm standing in front of my principal crying that I was raped. She says "I don't believe you".