The first of a handful of times I’ve been attacked and beaten up was when I was at college. I was walking along a main road in Cambridge at around 9pm, feeling a little downcast (which can act as a magnet for would be attackers), having found that the disco I’d intended to go to wasn’t on that night, when someone passed me then tapped me on my shoulder. Thinking it was someone I knew but hadn’t noticed in my self absorption, I turned round but was surprised when he asked me what I wanted. Before I could reply, another man appeared saying, ‘What are you saying to my brother?’ then attacked me. Knocked to the ground, completely bewildered, I did my best to fend off their punches and kicks.
Eventually, I got away, not severely injured, with some bruises and what became a black eye. I headed to a friend’s room in college to relate what had happened though decided not to go to the police as I was going through an ‘anti-establishment’ phase and had a dim view of both the police and penal system.
It wasn’t until I’d returned to my own room that I became upset and cried. Rather than this being ordinary self pity, it was because this completely random attack had undermined my ‘faith in humanity’. Another way of putting it was that I was upset following having discovered my trust had been naîve and misplaced.
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