It's been 1 year since I fought my rapist in court...

I was about to turn 21 when I was raped in my new home. After my loved ones convinced me to report him, I was told by many not to get my hopes set on a positive outcome. With the conviction rate so notoriously low for sexual assault, and only 1 in 9 victims reporting, the Prosecutor Fiscal and senior detectives involved in my case gently warned me not to set my heart on anything. Being reminded of this two days before the court case, my entire body seemed to shut down. I slipped into another bout depression and, for the first time, reality seemed to catch up with me. I had known the chances were slim. There wasn't a moment that went by, from the second I was attacked and to the court case 2 years later, when I didn't think about the outcome. When I didn't think about standing up and facing the jury, the the judge, and the lawyers.

Facing him.

Hearing his French interpreter whispering my every word, his incinerating gaze behind the grey screen (so I didn't have to see his face).

These were things that had plagued my every waking moment. They had stolen my ability to feel... well, anything emotionally, because they were all I COULD think about. It was like a black cloud constantly looming over me. Soon, it would burst and down me until there was nothing left.

Once I slipped into this darkness, I found it impossible to find way out; a pattern I was all too familiar with thanks to my depression and PTSD. I was supposed to visit the High Court a day before the trial so I could familiarise myself with the layout of the room. But I was struggling to eat, sleep, wash, or do anything. The fiscal ended up sending the Detective Sergeant to my house. He was a kind, patient man in a flashy dark suit. I remember his voice being so soft and his eyes filled with warmth and compassion. He had just wanted to check up on me. Again, once I had reassured him that I wanted to continue the case the next day, he reminded me of the possible negative outcome. Reality crashed down onto me like a ton of bricks. But I held my head high and I said, trust me. I'm strong and I can do this.

So, the case went ahead. The night before, my friends had stayed at my apartment and we had takeaway and watched movies as a much needed distraction. The next day, two of us got a taxi to the court, where I met my parents. My best friend had also arrived, since she and my friend were both involved in the case and would later give evidence to the jury. To be surrounded by my loved ones felt amazing and I doubt I would have gotten through the case without them. Their distractions and humorous reminiscing took my mind off things while we waited in a private room to be called in. Before I was called in, I was taken into a different room to meet my lawyer and the accused's lawyer. I'd never met the man who was supposed to be representing me, and as I waited, alone in the bleak room, the muscles in my body writhed and I often struggled to breathe. I remember on the windowsill there was a collection of video tapes, which I hadn't seen since I were a child. Aladdin. Sister Act. Classics that had been a huge part of my childhood.

I waited for about twenty minutes until the Victim Support Officer escorted the two lawyers inside. My own one introduced himself, and the accused's—whose first sentence was that he wasn't a monster and didn't have two heads. He calmly sat on the edge of the sofa and explained that he'd be asking me questions with [this] calm tone of voice and I was to try and not be afraid. Afterward, they left me and I was escorted back to my family. I can't remember how long we waited until I was called in. My friends had already given their evidence and were prohibited to see me once they did. So, it was just my parents and I. When I did get called in, I stood in the box and contested for nearly three hours straight (with a short break in-between). I answered their questions clearly, I thought before I spoje, I went through all my evidence with the lawyers and jury, I relived every terrifying moment, and at some points, I had to counter the accused's lawyer who was obviously trying to trick me. I wouldn't be fooled. Whenever he did try to twist my words, I made absolutely sure my side of the story was conveyed accurately. I wasn't some meagre girl to be squashed as if my existence—my voice—meant nothing.

I can honestly say, hand over my heart, that I fought my damn hardest. I swallowed every doubt, every tremor and fear quivering inside, and poured what remained of my energy into telling the absolute truth. I had to protect, not only myself, but the other vulnerable women the monster could prey upon. With my part in the trial concluded, I walked my parents to the train station, and I remember my mum giving me a huge, warm hug—something that wasn't the norm between us. She had looked me in the eye and said: "I am so proud of you." It was all I needed to hear to get me through the day.

Yet with everyone saying I wouldn't win, I certainly didn't expect a positive result. I did what they said, though, and I told the truth and I didn't get my hopes up. It was all I could do. When the jury's verdict came in a week later, it had come as a shock to everyone.

They had found the accused guilty of rape, which meant over 8 out of 15 members of the jury had believed me.

I was so, so relieved, and of course shocked. The DCI who called me that day had sounded surprised (but delighted) too. Like I said, nobody expected me to win, particularly since the case had been so convoluted. But I did. I had moved back home after the trial, so when I received the result, I had been sitting with my mum in her living-room, and relief flooded through our veins. To this day, I still can't quite believe it. The support family members and my friends showed me had been overwhelming and I knew, deep down, that I could do it. I might've only been 22 years old, but I was a natural born fighter, and just like my mum said: nothing ever stops you.

Four weeks after the trial, the accused was sentenced to six years imprisonment and a life-time on the Sex Offenders Register. He'd forever be unable to work with vulnerable people. While thousands and thousands of woman marched across the globe for Women's Rights, I had also stood up and fought for a safer world. A world where women and men can go out without being assaulted, where someone doesn't feel the need to avoid a drink with friends, or having to walk with a knife in their pocket for safety. I still do believe that, progressively, we are ending Rape Culture. But it won't be easy. I implore everyone to always stand up for the truth.

You never know whose life it might save one day.

If you're interested, you can read about the sentence here: http://www.scotland.police.uk/whats-happening/news/2017/february/man-jailed-for-rape-of-woman-in-edinburgh

I'll blog more about myself as well as the wolf and kitty, but right now, despite everything, I am feeling like such a warrior today!