It was early evening in Tokyo this March, and super busy – a whirl of neon signs, street vendors and more people than I could possibly imagine. I was visiting on holiday from my home in Thailand, heading back to my hotel, my belly full of ramen and keen to relax after a day of travelling.

By 7.30pm, I was back in my room. I stripped off, put on a sweatshirt and tidied my things. Then I got into bed and started researching train times. After about 20 minutes, I began to feel uneasy and noticed a strange odour – it smelled like a dead animal covered in sugar.

I couldn’t tell where the smell was coming from. I wondered if a rat had got into my room – maybe some food had been left behind by previous tourists. I decided to check under the bed, even joking to myself that there had better not be someone there. Sprawled on the bed, I craned my neck down to check. Two dark, wide eyes were staring back at me, blinking in the darkness.

The intruder climbed out from under the bed, blocking me from running to the door. He was sweating, which I presume was causing the smell. I started screaming and my brain kept repeating, “This is not real”, over and over. I began to hyperventilate and froze on the spot, unsure whether he was about to jump on me, choke me or even try to kill me.

There was no space for me to run, and my body felt as if it would collapse in fear. If he tried to overpower me, I would lose. I remained rooted to the spot, shouting for help as loudly as I could. He locked eyes with me and also began screaming. I scanned his face, trying to memorise exactly what he looked like: east Asian, between 20 and 30, slightly overweight, a bowl haircut and black clothes. He ran for the door and disappeared down the corridor.

I continued to scream for help. I grabbed my phone and tried to call the concierge, but I wasn’t dialling the right number. Other people in the hotel had heard me and were calling out, asking for my room number so they could get to me. “537, 537,” I repeated. There were frantic knocks on the door. I realised I was only wearing a sweatshirt, and clambered across the room, trying to change.

As I opened the door, two male tourists were standing there, checking if I was OK. It was only then I realised I was still screaming. They tried to calm me down, and soon the hotel concierge and police arrived. The police looked under the bed and found a USB cable and a power bank. I began to think the man had been planning to secretly record me – with his charging devices, he could have done so all night.

The concierge asked if I wanted to report the incident – I did. The police took my passport details and email, but said they probably wouldn’t find him because of a lack of cameras in the hotel – though they would send me a report. They didn’t even ask for a description of the man. I was shocked at how casually they treated the incident.

I had so many questions: how did he get in? Did he know that I would be alone? I couldn’t bring myself to stay at the same place that night, so I booked a different hotel. I had never felt so isolated and scared. When I got to my new room, I asked the staff to stay with me while I searched it. I didn’t sleep because I was still very afraid, and spent the entire night ringing friends and family. I eventually returned to my home in Thailand struggling with anxiety and PTSD.

I have found it difficult to stay informed about what’s happening with my case, and worry that nothing will come of it. But I haven’t given up – I’m exploring options so that it can be properly investigated. Since I’ve spoken out, many women have shared similar stories with me. It’s terrifying to read them. Sadly, though, I’ve also had men write to me, claiming it’s my fault or that I just want to denigrate Japan. But all I want is justice, and to raise awareness so this doesn’t happen to anyone else. Women already have to worry about their safety too much, and this is another example of things not being taken as seriously as they should.

I used to think I was invincible, and that there was more good in this world than bad. Now I’m not so sure.

As told to Elizabeth McCafferty

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