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The woman was caught on camera screaming for help as other dancers seemed to ignore her cries
A WOMAN live-streamed herself crying and screaming for help as she was 'raped' in the middle of a packed dance floor.
The alleged victim was heard repeatedly shouting "no" and "someone please help me", but no one intervened.
The woman, who can not be named, had uploaded several live videos to her Facebook on Saturday night as she partied at Opera, a nightclub in Atlanta, US.
She posted five videos to the site the fifth showed the moment she was allegedly raped by a man she had been dancing with all evening.
In the shocking 12 minute video which has since been removed, showed the woman saying: "help me" repeatedly.
She then started to get louder, shouting "help me, help me, help me, oh god help me".
Terrified, she continues to yell "no".
In the footage there is a man seen with his phone, seemingly filming the horrific incident.
She screams and "please stop, oh god please."
At one point it's alleged that the man was heard saying "shh" and "baby" as she continued to cry and shout for him to stop.
In all the other videos, that still remain on her Facebook wall, feature the man in question.
Before the supposed attack, they were filmed dancing and laughing together.
The woman told him that she was celebrating her birthday and that she was by herself.
He asks her if she wants a drink, to which she explained she never drinks but she has had one for her birthday.
He is heard saying: "Have another for your birthday."
To which she requests something "sweet and with vodka".
Throughout the videos the pair dance, but she seems to get more intoxicated.
He calls her his "new best friend" and kisses her on the cheek.
But suddenly, the night takes a horrendous turn - leaving the club goer screaming in distress.
She released another video the following day on her Facebook page, thanking her friends and family for their support.
She said: "I don't even want to address the situation. I don't want to talk about it, but I'm going to be alright, I'm going to be ok.
She added: "All I want is justice, that's it. That's the game y'all"
The video was viewed by 957,000 times and became inundated with messages of support.
Eagle-eyed viewers claimed to have seen the man spiking her drink with a pill.
Police are investigating the alleged attack.
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"Bret Ramos claimed me as his own. He told me I had two choices: I could submit, or I could die."
By Roderick Johnson Published: Mar 7, 2007
This content is imported from OpenWeb. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
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By Roderick Johnson, 35, as told to Tyler Cabot
Soon after coming to Allred prison in Texas, Bret Ramos claimed me as his own. He told me I had two choices: I could submit, or I could die. Thus began my life as a prison sex slave.
What most people don't understand is that rape in prison isn't like it is on the outside. It's not random or chaotic. It's planned and methodical. It's business. The gangs trade amongst themselves to determine who is going to be with whom. And other inmates didn't dare touch me without clearing it first with my owner.
Ramos would rape me once, twice, sometimes three times a day. Then he would force me to clean his cell, make his bed, or cook food for him. Eventually he demanded that I have sex with his friends, who took to calling me "Coco." When a different sex slave was badly beaten for refusing sex, he said the same thing would happen to me if I didn't comply.
When I was finally transferred to a different cell block, I was told by Cliff Brown that he and his gang had "bought" me. That's when the prostitution escalated. They made me perform sex with dozens of other inmates -- white gangs, Mexican gangs, black gangs. Sometimes it was anal. Sometimes oral. Sometimes both. They did it in cells, in the shower, on the stairs. The going rate was five or ten dollars in commissary a fuck. Eventually I was moved to another building. Waiting for me there was La Brigada. At the next building it was the Akin Soldiers. Then the Ivory Kings.
I pleaded with the guards, the warden, and the classification committee time and again for safekeeping. Each time I was met with deaf ears and laughter. They told me that because I was a homosexual, it didn't matter. They told me to "fight or fuck." The rape continued. The prostitution continued. And with it, my shame grew and grew. Eventually I couldn't face the constant humiliation anymore. I was suicidal.
At last, I wrote the ACLU and told them I wanted to kill myself. They flew to the prison and contacted the prison director. And for the first time since my ordeal began eighteen months earlier, I was put in safekeeping.
I was released to a halfway house in December and now live in my own apartment as I try to move my life forward. I'm getting counseling and the medical attention I need. I spend my days working as a youth counselor and hope to start a nonprofit organization. But every day is a struggle. I'm always very aware of my surroundings. I watch my back. I hate crowded rooms. And the nightmares of being raped persist.
Tougher still is the struggle to move past the shame and guilt. Sometimes I blame myself. I think, If I had only listened to my grandmother and stayed out of trouble, I wouldn't have gotten into this. Sometimes I start analyzing the situation, I start looking at the picture from all types of angles, and I start thinking, Why me? Why am I so weak? I just need to move forward.
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It felt as if that night wouldn't pass. I had a throbbing headache and couldn't stop crying. I don't remember when I slept off. I woke up to find my husband standing in front of my bed with last night's question: "So, what have you decided? Is your answer yes or no?"
I didn't know what to say. I gathered some courage to speak up and mumbled: "Please go to the office, I'll call you by evening and let you know my answer, I promise."
He threatened: "I will call you myself at 4pm. I want the answer and it should be 'yes'. Otherwise be ready to get punished."
By punishment, he meant anal sex. He knew that it was extremely painful for me and he used it as a tool to torture me.
He and his elder sister left for the office. I was now alone and struggling with my thoughts.
After a few hours I gathered the courage to dial my father's number and told him that I couldn't live with my husband anymore.
#HerChoice is a series of true life-stories of 12 Indian women. These accounts challenge and broaden the idea of the "modern Indian woman" - her life choices, aspirations, priorities and desires.
I was afraid that my father would be angry but his response amazed me. "Pack your bags and get out of there," he said.
I took a book, gathered my educational certificates and rushed towards the bus station.
After boarding the bus, I sent a message to my husband. "My answer is 'no' and I am going back home," it said. After that I switched off my mobile phone.
After a few hours, I was home, surrounded by my family. I had left my husband's house after only two months of marriage.
I met my husband, Sahil, when I was in the final year of graduation. He was a jovial man. I liked being around him and with time we fell in love.
We used to go on dates, talk for countless hours on phone. It seemed as if life was almost too kind to me.
But this rosy romance did not continue for long. Gradually I started realising that our relationship lacked equality. It wasn't what I had been looking for.
Our relationship was becoming like my parents' relationship. The only difference; my mother kept silent while I could not stop myself from speaking up.
My father used to scream at my mother for petty things. He would even hit her and the only thing she responded with was tears.
When Sahil and I had an argument, it would often turn into a scuffle. He would use force to get intimate with me and scream at me if I refused.
I remember him once asking me: "Suppose I hit you someday, then what would you do?"
The question stunned me. I controlled my anger with great difficulty and replied, "I would break up with you that very day."
What he said next shocked me even more. He said, "It means you don't love me. Love should be unconditional."
After this, we didn't talk for almost a month.
Our fights became more frequent. Many times I'd try to end our relationship but he would apologise every time. I wanted to get rid of him forever and don't know why I wasn't able to do it.
Meanwhile, I was being pressured into marriage.
I was a teacher now. I'd be in class, teaching children and my parents would call me.
The same conversation would be repeated. "What have you thought about marriage? Why don't you marry Sahil? If not him then let us find a suitable match for you. At least think about your younger sisters…"
If anything went wrong at home, it would be blamed on my staying single.
Mother fell sick because I wasn't getting married. My father's business suffered losses because I wasn't getting married.
I was so frustrated that I finally said yes to marriage. I was still not ready for it and didn't believe Sahil's promise that he would change his attitude.
My fears came true after our wedding. Sahil made me a puppet, dancing to his tunes.
I was fond of poetry and used to my write my poems on Facebook. He forbade me from doing it. He even started dictating what I should wear.
One day he told me that I should finish all my reading and writing work by night. "If you leave me dissatisfied in bed, I will have to go to someone else."
He'd say that I wasn't making him happy and would advise me to watch pornography so I could learn some techniques.
And then he got this obsession with seeking work in Mumbai.
He said: "You stay here, do your job and send me money to support me there, and then you take out a loan so I can buy a house."
This is what he wanted me to say yes to. That night he had pushed me on the bed and forced me into anal sex just for that yes.
A line had been crossed. I left him the morning after.
I was a well-educated woman who could earn and live on her own. Yet, my heart was sinking when I left Sahil's home.
There was a fear of being judged by my own family and society. But even bigger than that was the pain in my heart.
When I reached home, my hair was dishevelled and eyes swollen as I had cried all night.
Newly married women look ravishing when they visit home for the first time after marriage. But my face was pale and the keen eyes of my neighbours guessed why.
People started pouring in. Some would say: "Such a terrible thing has happened to you." Others consoled me that Sahil would come to apologise and take me back.
Then there were a few who thought that a woman should not make such a harsh choice over petty issues.
Everyone had something to say but their opinions could not change my decision.
It has been seven months since I left Sahil's home and now I am choosing my own path. I have received a fellowship; I am doing a job and studying as well.
We have been going to police stations and courts as the legal procedure of divorce is not over yet.
I still wake up with a start at night. I still have nightmares.
I haven't been able to forget what I had to face but I am trying to move on in earnest.
My trust in love and relationships is definitely shaken, but not broken yet. I have decided to take some time for myself. I am proud that I didn't stay silent and got out of this abusive relationship before it was too late.
That is why I believe that my future will be better than my past and present.
This is a true life-story of a woman who lives in western India as told to BBC reporter Sindhuvasini Tripathi, produced by Divya Arya. The woman's identity has been kept anonymous on request.
BBC 100 Women names 100 influential and inspirational women around the world every year and shares their stories. Find us on Facebook , Instagram and Twitter and use #100Women
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