Member-only story
PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE
He Filmed Me Walking to Class
I barely knew him
My boots splashed into the clear water of the puddles on the sidewalk as I hurried to class. I weaved in and out of people, trying to keep up a fast pace so I wouldn’t be late. The wind beat against my back, pushing my hair over my shoulders and dancing in front of my face. Slowing behind a group of students blocking my path, I heard a ping. Reaching into my jeans’ back pocket, I pulled out my phone and flipped it open.
My heart pounded.
A message from him.
A message with a video file attachment.
Nausea swept over me as I tapped the phone keys. Chewing my lip nervously as my march slowed to a stroll, I opened the video and pressed play.
My legs came to a halt. I felt the color drain from my face as my body froze in place in the middle of the sidewalk.
I watched myself in the video. Walking. Walking along this sidewalk, through these puddles, wearing these boots and jeans just a few seconds ago.
He was filming me.
A month earlier, I had entered through the dark, wooden doors of the auditorium to greet one hundred students talking, shouting, and laughing. It was my first psychology class as a college…
