"Please don't touch
Please don't stop and stare
Yes I thank you for your kindness
But there's sadness in the air
Please don't touch
Cause it makes me jitter
And although I lost my mind sir
I think you lost yours quicker
Please don't touch."

- Please Don't Touch by Polly Scattergood

The shroud of fog continued to assault my senses. Every which way I turned, I only saw about a foot in front of me. As the stars settled into the night sky, I carefully stepped over the path of fallen tree branches and leaves; if I didn't quicken my pace, I was sure he'd find me. The crisp air of autumn clung to my sopping wet jacket, leaving me chilled to the bone. Shivering violently, my arms wrapped around my chest in a desperate attempt to conserve body heat. Before I could place my hands in front of me to break the fall, my foot caught a knot in a tree root and I crumpled to the ground. Pain flared in my right ankle, but I pushed that to back crevices of my mind to feel at a more convenient time. The pain gradually lessened to a deep ache, and I got back to my feet and began to run again.

The fog cleared up a little; despite my dazed state, I noticed bright lights flashed at the edge of the forest. I stopped in my tracks, frozen; my breath caught in my throat. My panic thoughts echoed in my head: Were those car headlights? What if he found me? I swore my heart stopped as the light drew closer, and I peered at the sight before me. There were car headlights, but nonetheless, panic crawled across my skin like icy fingers.

Finally, the car slowed down to a stop a few feet in front of me and a man got out. As my eyes connected with the man's striking blue ones, my heartbeat surged forth in my chest and I gasped in relief. The man watched me warily as he appeared in front of me in a second; his arms embracing me tenderly as I broke down and cried into his chest. Whispering soft words, he picked me up into his arms, carried me to the car and buckled me in the passenger seat. We drove off together in silence, and I never felt more at home with him than I did then.

Startled, awaken by the alarm clock on the bedside table, I lifted myself up on weary arms so I was leaning against the headboard of the bed. The same dream that plagued many nights of restless sleep drifted away as soon as I tried to remember it. It always brought me to become so exhausted in the mornings, as if I really had ran a hundred miles in reality. But reality could be a bitch sometimes. Today was my first day as a Senior at East High. To say I was not excited at all would have been an understatement. Since a few months ago, when it happened, I'd dreaded the moment I'd experience the cruelty from him once more.

And people claim high school's memorable.

Trembling slightly from the repercussions of the flashback that occurred, I stood and ignored the familiar feeling of panic. I would allow myself to feel that later, when I would be alone again, maybe while eating my lunch somewhere in the corner of the Chemistry lab. I hastily put on a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, tugged a brush through my curls, and slipped on my sneakers. As soon as I was ready, I ran down the stairs and headed straight out the door. In order to avoid the Spanish Inquisition that was my mother, skipping breakfast became a part of my routine. I chose to no longer be the person I once was. Instead, I'd just accept the non-normality of ceasing to live, and just exist.

Once we had moved to Albuquerque, my mother prohibited me from attending driver's education class. She had said: "If you want to learn how to drive, then you get a damn job and pay for everything yourself. We don't need another car." That was the end of that discussion.

The fifteen minutes it took to walk to school didn't ease my restless mind. Once I reached school grounds, I passed by the crowd of students and spotted a few people who I used to consider my friends.

Riley Peterson chose to make my life hell. He had cold blue eyes, greasy, blond hair, and a long horse-like neck. He ruined my reputation and turned my friends against me. Riley stared at me with a cruel smirk on his face, instantly making me look down as I hurried by the crowd. He hurt me in the worst way possible; he crushed my innocence with the act of violence he committed against me.

When I finally reached my locker, my hands sought out the padlock on the handle. I turned the knob a few times, previously recalling the memorized combination, and the door opened with a squeak. A folded piece of paper fell out on the top shelf and I caught it mid-air. The disgusting note fueled my unadulterated hatred for Riley, the immature bastard. With my back against the locker, I slid down to the floor and then hugged my knees to my chest. Rocking myself back and forth was one of my coping mechanisms; if it helped delay the inevitable panic attack that'd surely seize me in minutes, then I didn't care if people watched me fall apart.

With bitterness, I remembered that my own mother didn't care about me anymore. After it happened, she betrayed me when she believed the lies Riley told her. He'd claimed that I seduced him and we had consensual sex. Bullshit! I remembered everything about that night, no matter how hard I tried to forget. His presence was a constant reminder of the event.

In the daylight hours, the shadows of my past haunted me. As time passed, my wounds had healed, but the scars remained. Somehow, I knew, one day, someone would try to fix my damaged heart. During those moments of vulnerability, I didn't want to disappoint them; I'd still be afraid of being loved.

I, Gabriella Montez, am a survivor of rape.