How do you
overcome the
aftermath of
a frightening
assault? Rhiannon
Lucy Cosslett
explains how she
faced her fears
and beat them
S
itting on the Tube platform at South
Kensington one January morning,
listening to the ‘beep beep beep’ of
the train doors clos- ing once more,
it dawned on me that I would be late
for work again. I had already watched
14
three trains
pull out of the station as I sat, rigid, on the plastic
seat, unable to muster the courage to continue my
commute. I was terrified that if I did, I would die.
To my mind, the world was crawling with
men who wanted to kill me. The scenario at the station
was not an unusual one; I had a Tube panic attack
at least three times a week, when I’d have to disembark mid-journey after becoming convinced that a
man on the train was about to blow it up. He was one
of the terrorists, but let’s not forget the psychopaths,
murderers and rapists waiting around every corner.
I saw dangerous men everywhere: skulking
on pavements to stalk me in broad daylight, or staring
at me in Pret A Manger, sizing me up as prey. Sometimes, I was able rationalise with myself, I could
have a minor panic attack during a conversation and
the other person would be none the wiser but more
often, the panic would win out. I was living in this
state of relentless paranoia because, less than two
years before my near breakdown on that platform, I
had been randomly, and viciously, attacked.
It happened late in September 2010. I was
about to begin my final year of university, having
moved into a shared house in a shabby part of north
east London. The scrubby bit of common I needed
to cross to get home that night could not have been
a greater contrast to Holland Park, the location of
the party I was returning from. I was dressed for
that well-heeled postcode: a red coat, high heels,
Chanel bag. We’d danced and drank and laughed
in a massive house full of bright young things and,
when the time came to leave, my good friend had
said, ‘Come home with me.’ But I just wanted my
own bed.
I got off the night bus at 3am. The path
through the small park to my house was fairly well
lit, and I could see the other side from the gate, so
I had no qualms. Midway across, I was approached
by two men – teenagers, as far a