Please read this first
I am a counselling psychologist, not a solicitor or a police officer, and nothing on this page is legal advice. It is a summary of publicly available guidance and research, checked as carefully as I can, written so that you can walk into a conversation with a specialist already knowing the shape of your options. Whether you report anything, to anyone, ever, is entirely your choice. If you want to talk to someone right now, the
24/7 Rape and Sexual Abuse Support Line
is free and confidential on 0808 500 2222, by phone or online chat, any time. If you are in immediate danger, call 999.
In a hurry? The short version
There is a story I hear in my consulting room far more often than I would like. Someone went out at university, drank more than usual, and woke up with a stranger, or an acquaintance, doing something to them that they had never agreed to. They could not remember getting home. They did not fight. Many went along with it, made the person a coffee, and only afterwards let themselves ask what had actually happened. Then they got on with their degree, because what else do you do, and told almost no one. Years later, something brings it back: a chance conversation, a news story, a friend disclosing that the same man did the same thing to her. And the question arrives: is there anything I can still do?
This article is my attempt to answer that properly, with evidence rather than reassurance. It covers three things: what the law in England actually says about alcohol, memory and consent; the exact pathways that exist, from talking to someone in confidence all the way to a police report, including the routes in between that most people do not know about; and what research and first-hand accounts tell us about what using those pathways is really like, so that whatever you decide, you decide it with your eyes open.
You are not unusual, and you are not late
The numbers are bleak and worth knowing, because shame thrives on the belief that this happened only to you. The Crime Survey for England and Wales estimates that 15.9% of adults, around 7.7 million people, have experienced sexual assault since the age of 16, and that 739,000 women were sexually assaulted in the year to March 2025 alone.1 In a 2018 national survey of 4,500 students from 153 UK institutions, 70% of female respondents said they had experienced sexual violence at university, and nearly one in ten said they had been raped there.2 A 2024 study at the University of Oxford found that 26.9% of women who responded had experienced attempted or completed sexual assault, and that most incidents happened at the university itself.3
Most of these experiences are never reported. Only around one in seven survivors of rape or assault by penetration (14.7%) ever tells the police. Asked why, the most common answers are that they did not think the police could help (38.5%), embarrassment (35.3%), that it would be humiliating (30.5%), and that they would not be believed (24.4%).1 In the same survey, the victim had been drinking in 37.8% of rapes, and the perpetrator was someone known to them in four cases out of five.1 Among students, the 2018 survey found that only 6% had reported to their university and just 2% felt both able to report and satisfied with how it was handled.2 If you did nothing at the time, you did what the overwhelming majority do, for reasons that are entirely understandable.
"But I was drunk and I can't remember": what the law and the science say
This is usually the first thing that stops people, so let us deal with it directly. Under section 74 of the Sexual Offences Act 2003, a person consents only if they "agree by choice, and have the freedom and capacity to make that choice".4 Being drunk does not automatically remove capacity; the Court of Appeal in R v Bree (2007) was clear that a very drunk person can still be capable of choosing to have sex. But the same judgment is equally clear that "capacity to consent may evaporate well before a complainant becomes unconscious", and that whether it has is a question of fact about that person's state at that moment.5 The law also contains specific presumptions: where the complainant was asleep or otherwise unconscious, or had been given a substance without their agreement, the starting point is that they did not consent.4 The old idea that a drunk woman who regrets the morning after has simply "made a mistake" is not the legal test, whatever a defence barrister might still try to imply.
Memory gaps need explaining too, because survivors so often read them as evidence against themselves. An alcohol-induced blackout is a failure of the brain to consolidate new memories into long-term storage, not a loss of consciousness. People in a blackout are awake, can walk, talk and respond, and appear to others to be functioning, while recording nothing.6 Blackouts come in two forms: fragmentary ("brownouts"), where islands of memory survive and more may return with cues, and en bloc, where a stretch of time is simply gone and will not come back.6 A head injury on the same night makes both more likely. So "I have one image of walking home and nothing else until the morning" is not a suspicious story; it is a textbook description of how alcohol affects the hippocampus. It does not tell you that you consented. If anything, it tells you that you were in no state to.
"I didn't stop it, I went along with it"
The second thing that silences people is the memory of their own behaviour: not pushing him off, staying quiet, being polite afterwards, even looking after him. Please hear this clearly: these are recognised responses to threat, not evidence of agreement. A Swedish study of 298 women seen at an emergency clinic within a month of rape found that 70% reported significant tonic immobility during the assault, an involuntary, paralysis-like freeze, and 48% reported it as extreme. Tonic immobility predicted later PTSD and severe depression, precisely because survivors blamed themselves for not fighting.7 Continuing to "go along with it", and then behaving normally, or even kindly, afterwards, is the mind's way of making an unbearable situation survivable and coherent: if this is happening, I must have agreed to it. A 2022 UK qualitative study of students' experiences of sexual violence captured the same pattern in its title, taken from a participant: "Who could help me? There was nothing. I brought it on myself."8 That sentence is the injury talking, not the truth.
The pathways, from least to most involved
People tend to imagine a single binary: go to the police and face a trial, or do nothing. In practice there is a ladder of options, and you can stop on any rung, or climb back down. Here they are in order.
1. Talk to someone who does this every day, in confidence
Rape Crisis England & Wales
runs the 24/7 support line (0808 500 2222, with online chat at 247sexualabusesupport.org.uk) and a network of local centres. Most people who contact them are talking about something that happened a year or more ago.9 Crucially, many centres can give you an Independent Sexual Violence Advisor (ISVA): a trained specialist whose job is to explain your options neutrally, and who will support you whether or not you ever report, and throughout any police process if you do.10 You do not need to have decided anything to ask for one. For LGBT+ survivors,
Galop
runs a dedicated helpline (0800 999 5428), and
The Survivors Trust
lists the national lines.
2. If it was recent: a SARC, without the police
This section is for anyone reading who has been assaulted in the last week or so, or who wants to know what to tell a friend. Sexual Assault Referral Centres (SARCs) are NHS services you can self-refer to without reporting anything.11 They offer medical care, emergency contraception, STI testing, and a forensic examination. Forensic evidence is best collected within 72 hours and is usually still possible for up to about seven days.11 The part almost nobody knows: if you have the examination but are not ready to report, the samples can be stored, for a minimum of two years under Forensic Science Regulator advice, extendable if you need longer to decide, and released to the police only if and when you decide.12 That turns an impossible decision on the worst day of your life into one you can make when you are ready. Find your nearest via the
NHS SARC finder.
3. Reporting to the police, months or years later
There is no time limit for reporting rape or sexual assault in England and Wales. Offences under the Sexual Offences Act 2003 (in force from May 2004) can be reported and prosecuted at any point; only some less serious offences under the older 1956 Act carried time limits.9 Every police force's website says the same thing: you can report something that happened "months, years or decades ago".13 You can report online, by calling 101, in person, or by asking a support organisation such as Rape Crisis to make the initial contact for you.13
What happens next, in outline: an officer takes a brief first account, the case is allocated to a specialist officer, and you are asked to give a full statement, usually as a video-recorded interview that can later stand as your evidence in court.10 Police will then look for anything that corroborates the account. Forensic evidence will not exist years later, but other things may: messages sent or received around that time, social media, people you told at the time (who can be witnesses to what you said and how you were), your medical records if you sought help for injuries, and anything the other person said or wrote afterwards. Rape Crisis puts it plainly: "your account of what happened is important evidence too."9 Be aware that the police may ask for access to your phone and other records; they are required to request only what is necessary and proportionate, and you can ask your ISVA to help you understand and challenge any request.
Two things people rarely realise. First, reporting is not the same as committing to a prosecution. The police guidance is explicit that you can report, give your details, and still decide not to go through with a full investigation, and that you can withdraw at any time.13 Second, the decision to charge is the Crown Prosecution Service's, not yours, so you are never the one "pressing charges" in the way films suggest; you are a witness whose account the state may or may not act on.
4. Putting it on record without pursuing it
This is the route many of the women I work with are actually looking for: they do not want a trial, but they cannot bear the thought of him doing it again to someone else with no trace anywhere. A report to the police is recorded as a crime against a named suspect whether or not you support further action, and it stays on the system. Rights of Women's guide notes that it can be useful to report even when you do not want a prosecution, because there will then be a record that can be used in any future case.14 If another woman later reports the same man, investigators will find your report. Depending on the circumstances, evidence that a person has behaved in the same way towards others can be admissible in a trial under the "bad character" provisions of the Criminal Justice Act 2003, which allow evidence of a propensity to commit this kind of offence.15 Your account, even with gaps in it, may matter far more alongside someone else's than it would on its own.
If even that feels like too much, you can pass information anonymously through
Crimestoppers
5. If you discover you are not the only one
Finding out that the same person assaulted a friend, or a friend of a friend, changes things, both emotionally and practically. Emotionally, it often does what years of self-persuasion could not: it moves the blame, decisively, to where it belongs. Practically, it means there may now be a case where before there was only your word. Two pieces of advice from the people who handle these cases. Talk to an ISVA or the police about it separately, rather than reconstructing the events together in detail, because defence lawyers will look for any suggestion that accounts were coordinated. And do not assume that your account is worthless because hers is "clearer"; a pattern is built from all of its parts, including the blurry ones. If the other person does not want to report, that is her choice in exactly the way it is yours, and a gentle mention that she could put something on record, or speak to an ISVA, is enough.
6. The university route
Universities cannot decide whether a crime was committed, but they can decide whether their own code of conduct was breached, on the civil standard of the balance of probabilities rather than the criminal "beyond reasonable doubt", and they can do so whether or not the police are involved.16 Since 1 August 2025, every English university registered with the Office for Students has been bound by a new condition, E6, which requires them to offer several ways to report (in person and online, including third-party reports), to provide support to anyone who reports, to run credible and fair investigations with published timescales and appeals, to train the staff who handle them, and, importantly, bans them from using non-disclosure agreements to silence students about harassment or sexual misconduct.17 Most universities now run a "Report and Support" portal, which usually allows anonymous as well as named reports.
The honest caveat: E6 applies to current students, and an institution's willingness to act on a historic complaint from a graduate about another graduate varies. It is still worth asking; the university's specialist sexual violence service, where it has one, can often advise former students, and a named report still creates a record. Be realistic, too, about what the research says: in the 2018 student survey only 2% of those who experienced sexual violence felt able to report to their university and were satisfied with the outcome, and the 1752 Group's interviews with students across 14 UK institutions (about misconduct by staff, but the processes are the same) found them often opaque and silencing.2, 18 The new regulation exists precisely because of those findings, but it is very new.
7. Your rights if you do go forward
What survivors say it is actually like
You asked, in effect, whether there are records of people's experiences of doing this. There are, and they deserve to be read without softening.
In 2020 the Victims' Commissioner surveyed nearly 500 rape survivors who had been through the system. Only 14% believed they would get justice by reporting. Many described feeling re-victimised, not just by the assault but by the process itself. In the year that survey was run, 55,000 rapes were reported to police in England and Wales and 1,867 resulted in a charge, and the proportion of victims withdrawing had risen from 25% to 41% in four years.21 Academic work on attrition in London found that victim withdrawal accounted for almost half of all cases dropping out, and that inconsistencies in a victim's account, and officers' beliefs about her credibility, were among the strongest predictors of a case going nowhere.22
The picture has shifted, somewhat, since the 2021 Rape Review and the national roll-out of Operation Soteria, a programme that rebuilt rape investigation around the suspect's behaviour rather than the victim's credibility. The second Soteria survivor survey, run by City St George's, University of London, heard from 2,858 survivors whose cases were known to police between July 2023 and June 2024. One in six said the way police handled their case had improved their safety and their trust. But 73% said their mental health had worsened as a result of the police response, and of those who withdrew, 47% said more kindness and understanding from officers might have kept them in, and 39% said independent support would have.23 The Victims' Commissioner's response to those figures was that improvements were "encouraging, but real areas of concern remain". Timescales remain long: in late 2023 the median time from report to charge in adult rape cases was 261 days, and the mean from charge to the end of the Crown Court case a further 406 days.24 Rape Crisis, reasonably, warns people that from first contact to final decision "sometimes it can take two years or more".10
If you want first-person accounts rather than statistics, two books are worth knowing about. Chanel Miller's Know My Name (2019) is the memoir of the woman assaulted while unconscious behind a skip at Stanford University, who woke in hospital with no memory of what had happened and learned the details from the news along with everyone else. It is an American case, but her description of piecing together a night she cannot remember, and of what cross-examination does with that, is the most precise account I know of the experience so many of my clients describe. Winnie M Li's Dark Chapter (2017) is a novel drawn from its author's own rape in Belfast and her decision to report; she has said since that she wrote it partly because she understands exactly why so many women do not.25 Rape Crisis also publishes survivors' own accounts of reporting and not reporting on its website, and the Soteria survey reports quote respondents at length.
Making the decision
I do not think there is a right answer here, and I distrust anyone who tells you there is. Reporting can be an act of self-respect, a gift to a woman you will never meet, and a way of finally putting the blame outside yourself. It can also be slow, intrusive and, for a significant minority of people, harmful in its own right. Not reporting can be the wisest possible protection of a life you have built, and it can leave a residue of "what if". Both are legitimate. What I would say, from the clinical side, is this.
And if reading this has stirred things up, please do not sit with it alone tonight. The support line is 0808 500 2222, any hour. The Samaritans are on 116 123. Your GP, or NHS 111, can help. And if you would like to talk about any of it with me, the first conversation is always free.
References and further reading
ons.gov.uk
revoltsexualassault.com
legislation.gov.uk
explore.bps.org.uk
rapecrisis.org.uk
rapecrisis.org.uk
rapecrisis.org.uk
police.uk
rightsofwomen.org.uk
universitiesuk.ac.uk
officeforstudents.org.uk
1752group.com
cps.gov.uk
victimscommissioner.org.uk
openaccess.city.ac.uk
victimscommissioner.org.uk