I was the subject of Wilensky’s obsession for years, yet as far as I recall, he never touched me. I keep hoping that I have passed the statute of limitations on memory suppression. Only time will tell, but I have a feeling that I was the lottery winner. A predator had locked onto me, but I escaped without physical harm.

We all have our secret stories, the ones that populate our timelines against our will and stay etched in our memories. During my freshman year at Harvard College, I spent a night with a handsome senior. I was still a virgin and made sure that though our shirts were off, there would be nothing more. He was kissing my chest, but it hurt tremendously, and I kept telling him so. Yet in my inexperience I thought, maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. In the morning, I woke up covered in yellow bruises. I didn’t tell a soul.

Only last year did his name come up again. It was over drinks with a friend who went to his high school, who said she shudders when she thinks of him. “He raped my best friend in high school and she has never fully recovered,” she said. I was not penetrated by this predator. I am a lottery winner.