My brain jumps to my last memories, and I automatically push my hands to check my body and clothes erratically, feeling myself out and exhaling heavily as I do so. Pyjama bottoms are still on, as is my underwear and tank top over my sports bra. They don’t tend to stop and re-dress you after the act. So I can thank my lucky stars I haven’t been raped … this time.

The overwhelming ache of emotion hits me harder, and I push it down, along with the burn of tears, thanking my lucky ...