I rarely talk about this, actually I rarely think about it because it seems like it happened to a different person or a hundred years ago...
but, when I was 15 years old, living in Southern California, I was brutally attacked by a man/ stranger who followed me in his car while I was walking home. He kept driving past me, in a brown Pinto, and 'finally' drove up ahead of me and parked his car. I saw him get out of his car, cross the road, and lost sight of him. It turns out he had
parked up ahead, then back-tracked behind a line of trees- he grabbed me from behind a big oak tree as I was walking past. He pulled me in.
He tore me up pretty badly, as a matter o fact, I had to have 3 reconstructive surgeries on my chest area, and still bare the scares today, at 44 years of age.
He was caught a few months later, because I was just one of a number of females he did this to. The article in the local paper didn't name me by name, but it was a relatively small town (at the time), and it was speculated that a classmates dad was a cop, another a doctor at the hospital I was taken to by ambulance.
My parents put me in counseling, which I am sure helped. I don't know that I really 'got over it', as much as stopped thinking about it, if that makes sense.
I remember all the times the police/detectives pulled me out of class to talk to me after that. It was horrible. I had aways been pretty popular, or well-liked, in school until that, and then I seemed to carry a stigma. I remember the whispering and looks my fellow school-mates gave me. Everything changed.
About the time he went to trial, there was alot of pressure for me to testify, but my parents decided that I wouldn't. I was okay with that. Also about the time he went to trial, my parents and I moved to another state, which helped me move on. It made it easier without the constant reminder. I will always carry the physical scars on my breasts, but I rarely notice them, they are just a part of my body and have been there so long, I guess.
So I didn't testify, but he WAS convicted (with minimal help from me). I admire women who have the courage to face their tormenter in court. I'm just not one who did. It wasn't a decision I made, but a decision I was happy to not have to have made.