There is an astronomical rate of sexual violence in the Congo. Now the victim has lost access to care.

On a hot day last November, Deborah M., a 22-year-old woman living in a camp for displaced people in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, decided she had to take the risk. There was no food in the camp for the three kids. There, due to chronically insufficient food she spent an early morning stroll back to a small farm plot where Rwandan-backed rebels fled when they occupied the village at the beginning of the year.

She thought there might be some vegetables to harvest. However, she also knew she might encounter rebels, or Congolese soldiers, or members of local militias.

Deborah's gambling went badly. There was no food left in her yard, and she faced three armed men, dragging her into abandoned house at the muzzle, beaten and raped her.

Pain and distraught, she returned to camp late at night. The next morning, tears plunged down her face, and she tied her nine-month-old daughter to her back with a frayed cloth and walked to the clinic where she treated the victims of sexual violence, where she spoke to me.

At the clinic run by international health and humanitarian organization Medesin Saint Frontieres, staff moved her efficiently through a series of steps that took hundreds of times a week. Emergency contraception. HIV prevention; vaccination against hepatitis; rudimentary group counseling sessions. An hour later, Deborah was finished.

However, no evidence has been collected. She did not speak to law enforcement officers. She said she would not report her attack.