TRIGGER WARNING: The following content refers to sexual assault. Skip to the end if you want to see a happy ending. Took nine months to create one but believe it or not, there is one.

“You think it's a textbook case. Open and shut. He violated her. He did things against the law. Even though he is an Indian citizen, he did that on US grounds so he can be tried by a US court.

But I am a girl.

In a patriarchal, male-dominated society. In a space, where the man has the power.

Privilege.

It's his word against mine.

Consider this:

A girl, scantily dressed -- a short romper with a deep neck. Fabric that tightly bounds around her waist. She allowed him to sleep on her lap. She did not yell. She did not say no. She did not fight. She had to be asking for it, wasn't she?

A girl, who had been drinking -- just half a bottle of beer and two red solo cups of gin and tonic. She wasn't tipsy. That's what she says. There were no tests conducted, can you believe her?

A girl, emotionally bruised. Nightmares usurping her sleep cycle. No physical scars. If only she had stayed back in her college dorm...

Oh, his sister was in the room. So was her boyfriend. They did not hear anything. They did not see anything. How could they when the lights were shut and the blanket pulled over both the assailant and victim's bodies. Ask him and he denies the claims of the accuser.

"He's family. He's my brother. I am sure he could never do something like that. Besides, the lights were off. It was not in my place to interfere/intervene."

Oh look, he has a girlfriend too. She has no complaints. They were happy and satisfied. Long-distance worked out fine with Skype and domestic flights. Why would he feel the need to touch someone else? She must have thrown herself at him.

He's only a college student. Like Brock Turner. He has an entire life ahead of him. Her claims are non-verifiable. No evidence. The witnesses testify against/deny her claims. He made one mistake, one. Should he even be punished or is this just all blown out of proportion?

A boy. Heavily drunk. A college student at Berkeley. Clean record. Has numerous girl best friends. Has a girlfriend. Has a sister. Has a mother.

A boy. Doesn't remember what he did. Sure, he remembers introducing her to a friend at the pizza place down the block. Sure, he remembers tricking the RA into believing he was sober. Sure, he remembers yelling about how he wants to take her around Berkeley. Never mind the fact he told her "I am sorry; this is such a bad night. I couldn't even get you as drunk as I wanted you to be."

A boy. Backed by a patriarchal society. Need I say more?

A boy with a girlfriend overly attached to him. If she (the accuser), convinced herself that he would stop after a bit. That maybe what he was doing was platonic because a boy she once loved did things to her which she didn't consider platonic. And when she pointed them out, he implied she was overreacting by mentioning how he does this "to every girl best friend" of his. Forgive her, if the stark line between platonic and romantic had been blurred into a shadow line because she fell in love with the wrong person.

So maybe she kept telling herself: "I can't embarrass myself by making a scene like last time again. The boy I once loved did things I did not agree with. He is doing things I don't agree with either. Maybe this is considered platonic in this part of the world, in this foreign society. Oh, now he's placing his hands between my thighs. It's okay, he's just using it as a pillow. Oh, why is he taking it further up?

I should slide my phone between my inner thighs. I think he's mistaken and doesn't realize how far up my thighs he's reaching. He won’t touch my phone because that means he was reaching for my vagina. Wait, why is he touching my phone. Wait, he cannot... he shouldn't. Did he just try fingering me? We were just friends. He has a girlfriend. Wait, what about his girlfriend; my friend. I feel guilty.

I didn't even consent. I did not even ask him to do this. How is he okay with this? How will I tell her this? Will he tell her? Should I tell her? Will she even believe me? She's overly attached to him. She has given and will continue to give him a million chances. What if I gather the courage to tell her and she gets angry, fights with him for a bit, and then breaks when he tries to win her over. Because she's attached to him, right?

That means he's her blind spot. She can't think straight when it comes to him. She'll take him back because she cannot bear losing him. So what if he's done something wrong? He's human. Everybody makes mistakes. He won't do it again; he promised!!! Look at him, he's so innocent and lovable. I am sure he didn't mean it. He was just drunk and lonely because I was not there.

Besides, Tanya didn't do anything to herself. She doesn't seem all that affected. She didn't even file a complaint. Oh, and his sister said nothing like that happened. What if it didn't? That's what she'll say to herself.

That's what we do when we're attached. We believe in the good of someone. We choose to believe their angelic side, distancing ourselves from the monsters within them.

Justice isn't for everyone. Women and girls are being raped in places where it isn't seen as wrong. What about their justice? There are no white hats around here. There is no justice. I can't win. I never can win this. It took three years for Nirbhaya's assailants to be brought to "justice".

Three years, a documentary, reports of her intestines being gutted out of her system, a nation-wide movement, plenty of condolences for her demise, and all sorts of murmurs. She was walking with a male friend late at night; what did she expect?

Marital rape and domestic violence aren't even against the law. In which sane part of the world do you think a westernized 18-year-old, who tries extremely hard to distance herself from her identity and the place she comes from (North India) by her manner of speaking, dressing, and communicating, and whose character is put under a microscope because she was born a girl. In what world does she have the audacity to ask for justice, payback, karma, or revenge? I have to let this go; I have a life ahead of me. I can keep this quiet. It's a phase. It will pass and I'll be happy when this is over."

Update:

This happened during the first day of spring break during freshman year. He was a close friend; we had known each other for two years. I became friends with him through his girlfriend.

He cared for me on more than one occasion. Obviously, it was the gravest violation of trust.

What made it worse was that I was from a different culture where the popular definition of sexual assault is rape. A country where domestic violence and marital rape isn’t against the law. The country where this happened has a very different popular opinion and understanding.

Moreover, we had mutual friends because we went to the same high school. I was beyond afraid no one would believe me, or that he would refuse my claims and that our friends would believe him. I did not want him to win. I couldn’t allow myself to be defined by him. The thought of talking about it killed me on the inside. So, I kept it a secret. Only a few people knew. Responses varied. Ranging from “It’s alright; you weren’t raped” to “Why haven’t you reported this yet!”

That’s confusing. Having someone define what your reaction should be is stressful. Whether survivors choose to speak up about what happened to them or keep it to themselves, they owe nobody an explanation. Their reactions and feelings are valid. It is their story to tell.

It was and will always be one of the most traumatic events of my life. I was suicidal, depressed, and anxious. Sometimes, I stress-starved for 19 hours. Sometimes, I stress-ate for days. Isolation became a habit. Weeks amalgamated like confluences. Concepts of space and time felt unreal.

However, I am a sophomore now. I did nothing but regrow this summer. I experienced every emotion. I felt. I cried for hours. I danced for hours. I slept in for days. I healed. I strengthened and rebuilt bonds. I apologized to my body and began to honor it. I found my support system.

I found what I loved and spent everyday learning and investing my time and energy into it. I grew; emotionally and spiritually. I discovered happiness. I volunteered at a lower socio-economic middle school and saw technology touch lives. I ran through sprinklers at midnight with my favorite people in the world because my best friend just turned 20. I spent the night at the beach witnessing a meteor shower and skinny dipping. I reunited with my childhood friends and realized how profound platonic love can be.

I indulged in my grandmother’s family gossip on a cycle rickshaw. I tasted magic at Coldplay’s concert. I realized how toxic and damaging anger can be. I understood the importance of self-love. I sought help. I found beauty in surface integrals. I found sheer joy in sitting at a desk and working on one coding problem for 9 hours. I scraped my knees running for a train I wasn’t going to miss (I spent the rest of the day with a dog so it was worth it!). I chased the sun and birds during my morning runs.

But most importantly, I realized that some wounds cannot be completely healed, only carried. That like peace and violence, happiness and sadness can coexist. I am not saying the nightmares will go away forever or that it won’t hit you in the middle of the day or that details won’t float from your subconscious into your stream of consciousness months later. I am saying you will find a happiness that can never be taken away from you.

That post-traumatic growth is unnecessary when you know you could have learned the same lessons from pre-traumatic growth. But it was the fastest way to help you realize that you have the power to control your growth. As Lil Uzi Vert puts it, “you’ll find another life to live, I know that you’ll get over it.”

I am happy; it is over.

If you've ever experienced sexual assault and want to tell someone, contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 or visit their website.