Public Toilets Of Terror: Surviving The Predators In Our City Streets
Public Toilets Of Terror: Surviving The Predators In Our City Streets
I live in a city where men sit near public toilets, waiting for innocent women to enter so they can accost them. These men sit and stare lustfully as women walk by, unashamed and seemingly all-powerful. It’s a constant threat that we face, a dark shadow over our daily lives.
Recently, I entered a public toilet that had a big sign reading “Women.” I hoped for a brief moment of privacy and safety, but those hopes were quickly shattered. Before I could even lock the door, a man followed me inside. He started offering me alcohol, his voice oily and persistent.
I don’t drink alcohol, and his intrusion filled me with dread. I thought if I stayed quiet, if I pretended not to hear him, he would get bored and leave. But he didn’t. His presence loomed over me, oppressive and unrelenting. My heart raced, my mind scrambling for a way out.
Summoning every ounce of courage, I managed to slip past him and run outside. The fear propelling me, I started yelling for help, my voice echoing through the space. People turned to look, but it felt like an eternity before anyone moved to assist me. In that moment, I felt the weight of our city’s moral decay, the palpable sense of danger that women face every day.
Our cities have fallen into such a state of moral decay that only Jesus and His blood can save us from this relentless onslaught. Every day I walk the streets, I have to constantly plead the blood of Jesus for His protection. Our lives hang in a constant balance as we are accosted, abused, and live in perpetual fear and terror.
This experience left me shaken to my core. The public spaces that should be safe havens have become hunting grounds for predators. It feels as though the very fabric of our society is unraveling, the darkness closing in around us. I question how we reached this point, how the sanctity of our daily lives has been so brutally violated.
As I cried out for help that day, I wasn't just seeking immediate rescue—I was crying out for a deeper salvation, a plea for divine intervention in a world gone mad. We need more than just laws and enforcement; we need a renewal of spirit, a return to decency and respect for one another.
Every step I take now is accompanied by a prayer, a fervent plea for Jesus’ protection. I cling to the hope that His love and sacrifice can shield us from the horrors that lurk in our streets. The blood of Jesus, shed for our salvation, is my shield against the terror that seeks to consume us.
Our cities may have degenerated, but my faith remains steadfast. In the face of overwhelming fear and moral decay, I hold onto the promise of divine intervention, the belief that Jesus walks with me, guarding and guiding me through the darkness. This faith is my refuge, my beacon of hope in a world that desperately needs saving.
