Inch by inch, the darkness slowly engulfs me and with every step I take, a sense of uneasiness swarms my thoughts. I'm beginning my walk home; it's 3:12am. At first, the faint lights from the village houses light my path, but as they fade, so does my sense of security. I find myself wondering why I didn't take that boy up on his offer to walk me home. I would certainly feel safer with his hand in mine. For a moment, I curse my pride, allowing it to morph into hubris in my head. Will it be my fatal flaw?

The path stretches endlessly ahead of me, the silence and darkness playing tricks with my mind. The moonlight casts shadows in front of me and a faint stirring in the woods to my left piques my interest. I pause, momentarily allowing myself to imagine the worst-case scenario. It isn't a wild animal or a serial killer that comes to mind- it's a college-aged boy I picture approaching me in the night. The worst-case scenario- someone just like me. Yet the thought sends shivers coursing through my body. I plan an exit strategy; figure out the fastest place to run to, who I'd have a chance to call, how I could retaliate. Images of Lifetime movies flash in my head and I'm reminded of just how vulnerable I

A squirrel scurries across the path, reminding me of my own irrationality, so I walk on.

I'm half way home now, so I take a deep breath, allowing myself to relax a little. My fear turns to bitterness. Why should I have to be afraid walking through my own campus? I like to think I'm braver and stronger than most, too proud to allow anything to shake me. I don't need a bodyguard to walk me home. But, once I'm actually alone, I imagine myself becoming a statistic. Just like every other college campus attack, sexual assault, rape, murder - a name that scrolls across your T.V. screen, pops up on computer, so you press the X in the top right corner and move on. It's just another mangled body, you've heard the story too many times - it's beginning to lose its meaning.

I reach my dorm, scan in and walk downstairs to my suite, laughing at the security that doesn't protect me outside my building's doors. I'm safe tonight, but tomorrow serves as another chance for someone to strike, not just me, but any of my friends, all of my classmates, every woman who walks home alone. I settle into bed, close my eyes and drift off to sleep, dreaming of a world in which women do not wear their skin like a target for men to practice their aim.