When I was younger, around 8-10 (I can’t remember exactly when), my parents took my younger sister and me to Italy. It was a fantastic trip and we traveled around the whole country on trains. At our last destination before going home we stayed outside of the city in a gorgeous self-catered apartment and we would spend the days there either exploring the countryside or going into the city. One day in the city centre, we all got on a hugely crowded bus. I remember being pressed up against a lot of sweaty, hot people. A short time after we got on, I felt something on my back. I presumed it was just a strap of a bag or someone’s belongings pushing against me. However, slowly but surely, whatever it was (and I’m pretty sure it was a hand or at least a finger) slid it’s way down my lower back and started into the back of my trousers. It didn’t get very far, only to the top of my bottom, but it was enough to make me feel awful about the whole thing. I kept telling myself that it was just a bag, that it was just moving downwards as the bus jolted it around, but I never truly believed that and still don’t, although I’ll never know the actual truth. I was frozen in place, I didn’t dare move in case it got worse, and I didn’t know how to tell my parents, almost 15 years later they have no idea of it.
I know it’s only small, and I know how lucky I am for that to be one of the worst encounters of my life, but I still think about it relatively regularly, and I never ever want to go back to that city. Even writing this now my hands are shaking and I want to cry. I’ve told friends about it before, but only ever briefly, as if it was just an anecdote and I always try to pass it off as lightly as I can. We shouldn’t have to put up with this sort of thing. Ever.