Naama’s Story Finally Getting Heard

I was on vacation in Prague with my family. It was summer, and the city was filled with tourists. One evening we were hanging about in the city. On the way back to the hotel, we turned to a side street. My family walked a few steps before me, and I stopped to look at a store’s shopwindow. Three men, aging no more than 30, showed up behind me.
Call me naive, but I’m not afraid to walk the streets alone at night. Maybe it’s my belief that should anyone lay a hand on me, I will know how to react. I am usually not afraid, even though it was a foreign city with people everywhere.
My family continued on, and the three men approached me. One of them put his hand on my shoulders, one pressed himself against me, and the third stood and laughed. I can’t even recall what they were saying, probably some obscene remarks, something about my legs/tits/ass or whatever. I threw the man’s hand off of me and leaped a few steps forward, mumbling “don’t touch me”.

How paralyzing is it to know that when someone touches you, all you manage to do is mumble, and they just laugh back.