I went to my room, got undressed, took a towel, went to the bathroom, grabbed a razor and I knew what I had to do to. I started running the water on the hottest temperature possible and got into the shower, I shaved every single part of my body even though I had little body hair. I wanted every part of me that he touched gone and vanished, I wanted to be clean but I couldn’t – no amount of soap or hot water were able to wash away the shame. Did I think of hurting myself at that time? Yes of course I did, I knew I was weak and vulnerable but I definitely did not want to be stupid.

The following day, X texted me and said he will be waiting for me outside school once school is over. I did not respond. X followed me every single day for about 2 weeks – he texted me all the time assuring me that he was watching. For example, as I was entering school he would text me and say “Study well today”. He just wanted to constantly remind me that he was watching. About 3 weeks after the first incident and constant stalking, he wanted to see me again. In the same way, he threatened to out me to my family and community if I said no. I went to see him when he asked , and this time I didn’t take a knife but I did take a voice recorder.

Using my phone, I prepared the voice recorder and started recording before I got into the car. I had the Motorola Razr phone and as you might know it was a flip phone so in order to record you had to have the phone open. I tried my best to hide it in my pocket but the screen was also on. I was terrified of him seeing it so I did my best to hide it. I get into the car, the voice recorder is on, he asks how was school and asked me who were my friends (he just wanted to know everything that I do and everyone that I talked to). I am answering questions and I am waiting for him to say or do what I needed him to do so I can have evidence of what was going on. After a couple of minutes of chatting – he drove to the same spot and parked there. This time, things were a little different.

I expected him to undress like last time but instead he made me pull down my underwear and trousers. My heart sank and I started shaking. I couldn’t unzip my pants because of how badly I was shaking so he did it for me instead. The phone fell out of my pocket and he saw it was recording. He grabbed the phone, stopped the recording, without any reaction or saying anything, he launched the camera application and took photos of me in underwear (and took pictures of my butt). He sent it to his phone using Bluetooth and said “If you try to be smart, next time these pictures will be sent to your family”. I don’t know how to describe how I felt at that moment, I did my best to contain myself and not cry, but I couldn’t so I cried – he didn’t care much. I did not want him to see that I was weak so I tried my best not to show emotions when I was with him.

Meetings became more frequent with time, he became more demanding. He also started calling me his wife. So he would text me during the day and say “I want to see my wife later”. He also addressed me as a female most of the time – in some Arab communities, calling a male using female pronouns is meant to be demeaning and a way of humiliating the male for not being a “man”. It’s sexist and extremely problematic. Different things happened at different meetings, sometimes he’d just want to see me without doing anything sexual, sometimes he’d want to take me for a drive without necessarily talking or doing anything, sometimes he’d want me to talk to him about my life and what I do and who do I speak to. I think that was his way of creating “intimate moments” between us.

This lasted for about 2 years. Yes, 2 years. The longer that I kept quiet and refrained from saying anything to anyone – the worse it became and the more trapped I felt. There was a point when I felt dead inside – it became kind of a routine. I meet him, I know what he wants, I give him what he wants, he does not tell anyone that I’m gay. I just want to emphasize that the dynamic never changed throughout the 2 years, it was a repetition of the first incident with small changes like what was he in the mood for in the moment. The only person that noticed there was something going on in my life was my best friend (If you’re reading this, you know who you are and I love you). My best friend asked me a couple of times why do I always use the same Taxi and not take a lift with my friends to go home after school. I came up with lies and excuses all the time (I’m sorry, friend).

I did notice that over time, he became less interested in seeing me. He would still want to see me but not as excited and pushy as he was in the beginning. It made me wonder if he had started abusing someone else. On one of our occasional meetings, he told me that he needs to tell me something. “Adnan, I have to tell you, I got a job offer overseas and I am going to take it.”he said. I did not react. I did not say a word. “This will be the last time I see you.” He continued by saying “Here’s how this works: you give me your phone, I’ll delete any messages between us, I’ll delete my number and I’ll do the same on my phone along with your pictures”. I gave him my phone and he did what he wanted to do. I don’t know if he ever deleted those photos that he took of me.

You’re probably thinking – happy ending! Or at least an ending to this part of my story. It wasn’t. Be prepared for what I’m about to say and I ask you to give me the benefit of the doubt in advance. The truth is that I fell in love with him without realizing it. I cried when he left. I was addicted to the emotional abuse that I was going through, I craved it. I was hooked on the pain, anger, abuse and being the victim. Being the victim became my role and who I am in life. As outrageous as this might sound but in some way – he cared for me when my father didn’t care. He was there to listen to my stories at school when my father wasn’t. I am not proud of admitting that I wasn’t happy when he left. My therapist once told me that people get stuck in abusive relationships because the abuser tends to do the following: he would treat you terribly for a long time, but always give you just enough to keep you hooked. After many years of therapy, I can now explain to you why did I feel that but at that time I did not know why and I thought I was sick in the head to feel like that.

In conclusion for this chapter, I want you to know there is light at the end of the tunnel. I did not feel well for a long time, I became codependent and I reflected that on my relationships. I played the victim role for most of my adult life but let me tell you, it did not help me at all and in fact made life more difficult. I always blamed other people and friends when there were conflicts because I always played the victim. I believe I was a victim in that story – but I allowed it to define me for a long time and by publishing my story I am releasing it forever. I picked myself up and I decided to go to therapy, it was a long process and road to get to where I am now. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t quick. Even though no one in my life knew about what happened – I surrounded myself with friends, family and loved ones for support. I reached out to people again for helping me get through my mental health issues that I work on every day to this day. I’d like to end this chapter with the following letter;

Dear X,
I don’t think you are reading this but I’d like to believe that you are. I want you to know that I left Saudi Arabia, I graduated high-school with 96% , I studied Interior Design and got a great job at one of the best interior design firms, I got the professional help that I needed to make peace with what you did to me, I am proud of who I became and I am not ashamed of what you did to me. It’s an honor to survive and I am a survivor. As for you, if you’re alive and wherever you are – I’ve got my revenge. I am a successful person and you did not break me. You did not break me.