I would find refuge, and he would find me and ruin it. I remember everything. I can still hear 13-year-old her (me) screaming and crying, "No, no!" I get angry at myself for being so weak and unable to fight harder— so many of them. Everyone treated me like trash. My soul retching inside my body, frantically clawing, not to get out, but to bury itself deeper, further away from you, while you tell me I asked for this. Everything is louder when it's silent. I dreamed of drowning. There is a marked point in my life. If you could see the timeline of "me," there is a pin stuck about halfway that signifies the most important day of my life. This day, this point, was the beginning of the greatest challenge I would ever face. But I faced it.