I turn in the other direction and start running as fast as I can, but the male is taller and knows where he’s going, so it doesn’t take him very long to grab my arm and throw me to the ground.

“The only females who come to this part of the ship are prostitutes,” he says, groping one of my breasts. “Water women are so very soft.”

I scream and try to push him off me, but he’s too heavy. His dirty hands are groping all over my body, and I can feel his erections through his trousers. I scream for help, but it’s just quiet in the corridor. I guess all the prostitutes are in the lounge—all the females, except me.

Tears come streaming out of the sides of my eyes as my voice becomes hoarse from crying out for help. “Why won’t someone come and help me?”

“Scream all you want; no one is going to help you here,” my attacker says.

I continue to scream, hoping to annoy him, hoping that he’ll get off of me. But then he does something to trigger my muscles, and I suddenly remember my defense classes. I manage to get one of my hands free by wiggling it, and I put my fingers in one of his eyes, which distracts him. Then, I quickly squirm out from underneath him, but I’m not fast enough, he grabs my ankle and pulls me back. I cut my hands on the wall as I try to hang on to a bit of the skirting that’s come undone.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he says. “I’m going to happily make you pay for that.”

As he drags me backward, I turn over on my back and bring my knees up so that when he’s hovering over me again, I’m going to kick him with everything I have. He obviously thinks there’s nothing I can do to hurt him, so I must use that to my advantage. I feel like I’m back in class and think of my Commander. I imagine he’s watching me, and I don’t want to let him down by not fighting with everything I can, my mind and body.

When my attacker looms over me again, I kick my legs so hard I move backward on the floor, giving myself a serious rug burn. It hurts, but I’m numb to the pain. I bounce up and start running again and screaming for help at the top of my lungs. As I run through unknown corridors, I continue to shout, “Help! Someone help me please!” My aggressor is right on my heels, laughing at me. I keep running until I run right into the eloquent officer from my Commander’s ship. He’s shocked to see me in such a state but immediately puts me behind him and draws his gun.

“Stop,” he commands my pursuer.

My aggressor stops and puts his hands casually up. “We were playing a game. Give her back to me.”

“I highly doubt the lady was playing a game with you.”