I don't know how to start this. But I have to get it out... because I might go crazy just thinking about it.
I'm Rina (not my real name), 20 years old, college student at a private university in Manila.
And what I'm going to confess today is a secret that I've been keeping for months.
Sir A. (also not my real name), was one of my subject professors in my 2nd year. He was not approachable. Quiet. Always formal. And surly—especially when you gave a wrong answer. But I don't know, there was something different about his thinking. You could feel that he was “hiding” something.
One time, I was late for class. As I casually entered the back, I saw him staring. Not just staring. It was as if he was examining my entire being. I just bowed my head. I didn't think anything of it. "Maybe I'm just imagining it," I said.
After a few weeks, someone started messaging me anonymously on Telegram.
“Your eyes are beautiful in natural light.”
“Your light blue polo suits you.”
“I saw you earlier in front of your dorm.”
And take note: I don't post on social media. Everything is private. I'm not active. I don't share where I am either.
Who can know?
I noticed Sir—he became more “concerned.” He always talked to me after class. He helped me even when I didn’t ask for it. Sometimes, he praised my work even when I wasn’t confident.
And here's what I'll never forget: he told me “You need to be careful. The way back to your dorm is dark. Sometimes there are people waiting.”
I didn't tell anyone where I lived.
How did he know?
It was night. I was coming from the library. As I was walking home, I felt like someone was following me. I turned around — no one was there. But my heart was beating fast.
When I arrived at the dorm, there was a brown envelope under the door.
When I opened it, there was a picture of me. I was sitting in the canteen. Smiling. Unconscious. Taken from a distance.
And on the back of the photo there is writing:
“Did you know that you look more beautiful when you don’t know you’re being looked at?”
I cried. I hid. The next day, I didn't go in.
Out of fear, I asked a techie friend of mine to investigate. He researched the pattern of messages and IP address of the anonymous account.
And the exit?
From the faculty room.
That's when I remembered—one time, I left my phone behind while I was in the CR. Sir was the only one in the room at the time. It's possible that's where he got my info.
And that's when my world completely collapsed.
I didn't confront him. I went straight to student affairs. I filed a complaint. I told him everything. I showed him the screenshots, the pictures, the envelope. Everything.
The case became an internal investigation. And suddenly Sir disappeared. There was no more news. There was no public announcement either.
The university is quiet. It's as if they don't want to make the issue bigger.
I don't know where he is now. But every sound of a motorbike outside the dorm still makes me shiver. Every unknown message, I think it might be him.
But I know, I have to be brave.
Anyone — even a professor, even a "respected" person — can be a predator. It's not always obvious. Sometimes, the quietest person has something dark to hide.
If you feel something strange, don't ignore it. Tell your story. Report it. Fight for yourself. There's nothing wrong with you.
I am Rina.
I am a victim.
But I will not remain silent any longer.
