The Fateful Day That Almost Made Me Quit Traveling

Deafening silence in the middle of a seemingly endless forest. My pounding heart, the only sound that reverberated. The scent of moss and soft earth after the rain constant in my nose. Sweat trickled down my face. My body shivered, not from cold but from fear. He looked at me again with those menacing eyes as he held my hand tight while we walked. Our fingers locked like lovers. But we’re not. I cringed as he again raised my hand to his lips for a kiss. His skin next to mine sent a thousand kinds of dread and disgust all over my body. It left a bad taste in my mouth and I felt like throwing up as my senses began to fail. Eyes blurry. Mind in a daze. Weakening knees. My head spun in confusion, regret, anger, and disbelief.

How did I end up in a situation where I was left with no choice but to comply. Like a slave in shackles constrained to her master’s whims. I looked around to find me some kind of refuge or a single life I could call on for help but to no avail. I was alone. Alone with a man whose intentions I could barely fathom. I stared at him completely bewildered as he pulled me to walk after him. I traced my gaze from his head to his broad shoulders down to his muscular back, looking for some kind of weakness. Can I hit him in the head with a rock? How hard should I go just to knock him out so I could run far enough? My eyes flew to the ground to find the perfect rock. A rock not too small to get the job done but not too big for my meager strength. He turned to look at me, eyes empty with not much of a hint to decipher. A smile carved in his mouth as he looked away again. No, he smirked, as if to say that he got me all figured out. That I was at his mercy, ever he has any.

Three hours ago, I remembered how I appreciated this man for his kindness. I was traveling alone for the first time and it wasn’t easy. Being on my own in a new place is overwhelming, scary even, so meeting truly nice people is a gift. I arrived in Dumaguete at eight that morning but was forced to stay at my hostel due to frequent drizzle until 12 NN. It was already 1 PM when I reached the junction in Sibulan which led to the pristine twin lakes of Danao and Balinsasayao. I needed a ride and a guide to get there. While all the other motorcycle drivers refused to accept my bargain, this man, on the other hand, took the job without question. We had an interesting conversation while we traveled up the mountains on his motorbike. He talked about his family, his kids, and his wife. He looked young for his age of 38 but he was wise, owing maybe, to the years of living a difficult life. I saw in him a good man. A caring elder brother I never had. It didn’t take long before I started talking a bit about myself too.

We stopped by their house for a moment. It was a simple bungalow with a pretty decent lawn. There, I met his wife and his youngest daughter. They were really nice and welcoming. Being able to speak and understand their dialect was an advantage for me. It felt like I was just talking to good ‘ol neighbors. Our conversation went from why I was alone to how long was I staying in the city with them giving me tips and information useful for my trip. Shortly after, we left to continue the ride to the twin lakes. I didn’t expect it to be too far and remote. It was totally secluded from the rest of the community. The nearest house was probably 4-5 kilometers away. We reached it at 3 PM. There were three young ladies at the registration. I noticed they were familiar with my driver, friendly even. I left him in their company while I went to take photos of the lake from the view deck. Engrossed with what I was doing, I was startled when he was suddenly behind me. He suggested we go down the lake to take a closer look and I happily obliged.

The path going down was too slippery. It was covered in moss and it was twice the obstacle after the rain. I slipped a few times that he probably felt the need to help me with my balance. He held me by the arm until we reached Lake Balinsasayao. Not long after, it rained again. It lasted a good thirty minutes. We took shelter at a cottage. Both of us didn’t say a word as we sat opposite each other, a table in between us. I took the time to scan photos on my camera, deleting the ones I deemed unnecessary. When the rain stopped, he urged me to pay the other lake a visit. I wanted to but the arduous 30-minute trek got me thinking twice. During days when the lake is flooded by tourists, the Danao Lake is easily accessed using a boat. But there were no other tourists except me. I thought it would be a waste not to see the other lake during my visit so I finally agreed.

Similar to when we were going down earlier, he held me by the arm for support. I told him I can manage a few times but he insisted. There were instances when I would hop on one slippery boulder to another with ease as if to show him I didn’t need that much assistance. I couldn’t understand but his being so close made me uncomfortable. I set the thought aside and went on with the trek. We reached Danao Lake after thirty minutes. I took a moment to admire the stunning lake and quickly took photos. A few minutes later, I told him we should head back as it was already getting dark, but he insisted I should experience the fish spa. I didn’t want to but just to get it over with, I agreed. I had the fish spa for no more than five minutes. After that, we started trekking back. Not long after, things had gotten weirder.

It was halfway through the trek from Danao Lake to the registration when he started acting differently. He went from casually holding me by the arm to provide support to constantly holding my hand while we walked. I tried to pull away several times in an unprovocative manner but it was futile. Then he started talking incessantly about sensual stuff. I dodged it every time and tried to deviate the conversation somewhere else. He would scoff at my reluctance. He attempted to touch me in many ways like offering to wipe my face with his hanky and stroking my hair off my shoulders. He knew I was uncomfortable with his advances but he was also aware I was at a great disadvantage. And he exploited that. The only thing that gave me a trickle of hope was the fact that he hasn’t resorted to violence just yet.

I froze when he asked me to take off my blazer, saying it was probably making me feel warm. Taking it off would mean exposing more of my skin. I refused and said it in a way that won’t annoy him. I braced myself for the worst but he didn’t say a word. He just left a blank expression, turned, and continued to pull my hand and walked. I let out a sigh. A part of me still thought that maybe I was just overthinking until he started to casually kiss my hand, uttering pleasure words in between. I tried to pull away but he tightened his grip. I was infuriated and thought this man needed a piece of my mind and he was definitely getting it. As soon as I opened my mouth to finally speak, his death stare stopped me in an instant. He looked at me in the worst way that day and I thought I just saw my life flashed before me. My body suddenly went numb, cold, and weak. I was dead frightened.

And just like that, I ended in such a predicament. As I walked aimlessly while being pulled with my hand held tightly by this maniac, I looked back to every damn detail of the events that day, trying to dissect if there were any signs I missed which could have prevented my circumstance. I remembered that I found it strange when he asked me to put away my camera bag that had always been in between us and to sit closer to him while we rode his bike, saying the road was going to be quite steep and it would help if I didn’t sit by the edge. I followed him reluctantly. I didn’t know anything about motorcycles so how was I to know I was already being fooled. The next thing I remembered was when he insisted on taking off my shoes and putting them on before and after I had a fish spa. I disposed of it, thinking he was just being nice. Extra damn nice..

My prayers to the heavens must have been the reason why I was still alive and not a lifeless body at the bottom of a beautiful lake. God must have been battling with the devil, appealing to this man not to do the worst. And by His grace or a stroke of sheer luck, I found a shortcut back to the registration. Hastily, I pulled my hand free from his grip. It might have caught him by surprise that it took a moment for him to react. I walked past him, saying I badly needed to use the loo as an excuse but it was actually true. It was probably the fastest walk of my life with him trailing from behind. At the registration, there would be people I could ask for help. I was relieved to have finally emerged from the forest. I ran to the registration but I almost lost it to find not a single soul. I stood motionless by the reception, still shocked. Then, he was suddenly behind me.

It was already several minutes past 5 PM. I asked him why there was no one around anymore to stall him a bit. He said they were already done for the day and went home. “They leave even if there is still a tourist at the site?”, I inquired. Another way I thought to distract him. I sensed his impatience through his pithy response. “Didn’t you say you need to pee?”, he said as he gestured to the toilet. He was mocking me. I agreed in response but seeing how awfully dark the toilet room was, I backed out and told him I didn’t feel like peeing anymore, another of my not-so-well-thought-of excuses. I walked out of the registration to the parking area where his motorcycle was. He followed. I told him we should really get going as I have friends I needed to meet at the airport. It was a lie but it was all I could manage. Surprisingly, he agreed.

I thought he was finally letting me off the hook but he tried several times to stall our way back. He stopped by and showed me different spots despite my refusal. He was adamant at letting me know I didn’t have a choice. I would have totally appreciated those spots had the situation been different. Fate was probably also playing tricks on me as the streets were eerily empty when we passed by. The last thirty minutes of the ride until the junction became a psyche war. I tried to manipulate him into thinking he was gonna get in trouble if something bad happens to me. I didn’t say anything to threaten him, just subtle hints. It must have worked as I safely reached the junction but my nightmare didn’t end there. He was supposed to drop me off at the junction so I could just take the bus back to Dumaguete but he didn’t stop and continued the ride, saying he was taking me back to my hostel.

He drove the motorcycle at high-speed, denying me any chance to call for help or catch anyone’s attention. Since seeking help was pointless, I reverted my focus on the road, taking note of every turn we took, and just like earlier, I stirred him away from doing anything that would get me in more trouble. I would point out when he would try to deviate from the route back to the city. I took a public transport from Dumaguete to Sibulan so I was a little familiar with the road. I told him to just drop me off at Jollibee where I would meet my friends. Hell, it was a lie. I absolutely didn’t want him to know where I stayed. He inquired a few more times and I was forced to tell him another hostel’s name, one of the few I remembered when I was scanning the internet before my trip. We finally reached Jollibee. I quickly got off his bike and handed him my payment to run inside the restaurant. But he grabbed my arm before I could do so.

A sudden jolt of fear engulfed my entire being. I hesitated and slowly turned to look his way. He handed me a mobile phone and asked for my number. His grip was tight and his eyes burnt with determination. His stares gave me a threatening impression. That he was capable of doing worse and not anyone around can save me. I entered a random number. He doubted my honesty and punched in the number for a call while he held my hand. The voice prompt said it cannot be reached. I told him my phone was dead. He smirked as if to say I was lying. Of course, I was. I pulled my hand free without warning and with all my might, I ran to the guard on duty. When I looked back, he was gone. The guard was confused by my sudden approach but I knew he could tell I just came out of hell from the horrid expression on my face. I didn’t say anything. I simply walked to the restroom where I spent several minutes crying.

Making it back to my hostel in one piece, I still couldn’t believe what happened that day. I was in denial as I sat on my bed, confused and terrified. I didn’t know if it was even okay for me to think that I was sexually assaulted. I haven’t told anyone just yet, not one in my family nor any of my closest friends. A part of me wanted to make sure I wasn’t just taking things out of context. I finally summoned the courage to open up to a stranger. She was a fellow Filipina traveler, who has been traveling all over Visayas during the past three weeks. As soon as I was finished recounting my story, hardly leaving any detail behind, her horrified expression gave me the confirmation that I needed. She even added I should seek psychological help and take legal action. I told her I was going to think about it. My mind was still in chaos and I couldn’t think straight.

I only told my then boyfriend about what happened and no one else. I spared my family the pain and anger. I knew they would be the ones who would feel worst about it. What happened to me was an eye-opener to the truth that we have a beautiful but cruel world. It made me realize the dangers lurking in the shadows and that I’m easily a target. That fateful day almost made me throw away my passion for traveling. But more than the insurmountable fear I have was the insatiable desire for new discoveries and epic adventures burning in my heart. I just thought about it as one of the many hiccups I was set to encounter throughout my journey. That day, I threw away the naivety and swore I would no longer trust anyone easily because not everyone has the best of intentions. It gave birth to my stronger and wiser self. I learned to back away at the first sign of danger. Things could have gone for the worst but I live on to tell the tale and that’s what matters most.

P.S. This is an account of the events which took place on September 16, 2015. I didn’t take legal action as I felt humiliated and the topic was just too sensitive for me to talk about at that time.

P.S.S. Don’t hesitate to share this post if you feel you have friends who need to know about this.