Sitting here writing this page is the most difficult one yet. It is so hard to not to see the night as vivid as if it happened yesterday. I can see every face, feel every penetration, feel him ripping my clothes off because I would not cooperate. The only thing I cannot hear are my screams. I know I screamed but after I left my body and was staring down at myself from the ceiling, it was like I was watching someone else, and it was because I was never the same person again. I remember standing outside of the house telling Emily not to go in, just let them go get what they forgot and let them show us the correct but, but in my heart, I knew it was already too late it was getting dark. She followed the 2 of them in, and I could not let her go in alone. I felt responsible because it was my fault we were even in the city, and I was older than she was. As we walked through the older wooden green door with a half window and a white sheer curtain, I knew the minute we walked inside we were never getting out of there alive. For the life of me, I don’t understand why she could not understand my panic. God my heart is racing, and I can barely breath as I write this. I feel like I am going to throw up but need to keep writing or I may not get the courage again.

As I looked around at the dingy yellow walls and brown and yellow linoleum floor, the grime had to be at least 2 years old. Oh my gosh, my heart is about to pound out of my chest and I can’t stop hyperventilating. I have to finish another day.