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  • Writer's pictureKiri Self

Assault in the City. S1 E1.

Updated: Mar 22, 2022

This post has been on my mind for months. It’s probably one of the most difficult that I will write. But one of the most important - it marked a turning point in my life and affected me much more deeply than I could know at the time.

Thinking about how to write this hasn’t been easy, but I feel strongly that to move on in my life I need to purge my mind of what happened, and for me that means writing it here. Having my story told. And then perhaps moving on with my life in a way that lessens it’s impacts on me.

Huge huge massive trigger warning here. Sexual assault described below. Please tread carefully if you are one of the many women that will have been affected by assault.


https://rapecrisis.org.uk/ are marvellous and will help you when you need them most.

https://www.samaritans.org/ are also brilliant and have listened to my ramblings on many occasion. They are there to listen to anything you need to say.

Here we go.

I was about 22/23 years old. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment but I know I was still with K as I sought refuge with him straight after it all happened.


It was the office Christmas party and we had it in a bar on Hoxton Square. It was raucous and drunk and I spent most of it hanging out with my work Bestie. I remember sitting outside and smoking with him.

One of the bosses saw me getting drunker and drunker. I remember seeing him at the bar - I’d always had a bit of a crush on him, what with my marked predilection for men in a position of power and all. But he was a boss and I was very much a minion and I had my own issues to sort out - I may have still been married at the time.


Somehow my memory skips from being at the bar to being in a toilet with him. I was being bent over the toilet, and he was taking me from behind. Suddenly he takes his dick out of me and then forces it into my arse. I’d never had anything up there and it hurt. It didn’t feel good but he seemed to be enjoying fucking me that way. I didn’t want it but I had no idea how to stop it. He was holding my hair and not in a gentle way. He kept going until he was done and then left.

It’s strange how such a few moments can stay in the mind and have such a profound impact on a person.

I sat there and cried for a while. And then I went outside and told my friend that I’d just been raped.

He took me home I think. I don’t remember any more of that night.

The next day I phoned K and told him what had happened. It never occurred to me that it could be a matter for the police. I’d been drinking so it was probably my fault anyway. I probably flirted or something. He was my boss. Nothing could happen to him.

K told me to get on a train and come to him. So I did. And I stayed with him for a couple of days. He held me and let me cry and cooked for me and we watched a German film. Run Lola, Run. Pretty good film.

K wanted to inflict bodily harm on him but I didn’t think that would be a good idea.

I got back home and went back to work. Maybe I took a few more days off. I’m not sure.

When my boss asked if everything was alright I said yes and carried on working. I didn’t want to make trouble. As I say I’m not sure exactly when it happened but I must have worked there for some time after, before I moved to a new job. And I probably just acted like everything was fine. Because that’s just the way it worked wasn’t it?

I always remember that night though. I remember that tiny toilet. And having my hair pulled while he fucked me up the arse and I didn’t want him to.

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