When I came round, I was lying, naked, in a stairwell For the first time since I’d been raped, I felt I had control Juggling my laptop under one arm and a bag of snacks under the other, I fumbled in my pocket for my room key.
It was January 2014, and I was away on business as a sign-language interpreter.
My husband Jeff, 38, was at home with our kids Julia, 16, Spencer, 14, Mackenzie, 11, and Noah, 8.
I’d been away for a week and missed them all like crazy.
But, thankfully, this was my last night at the hotel, before I made the four-hour journey home.
Only, unlocking the door, I felt someone behind me.
Turning around, I saw a young man in his early 20s.
I…
