I've gotta tell someone.

Not so long ago, I had a friend. We met these three boys once and made good friends with them. One of them asked my friend out, and when she said no he was really angry. But later he apologized to her and asked her and I to come over to his house with the other two boys, as well. Of course, we did. What could go wrong, right? We're all good friends. But when we got there, no one was home but the three boys - no parents or siblings or anything - just the dog. The boy raped my friend in his room. The other two held me back and made me watch, laughing like braindead hyenas.

That's the story I'm sticking to, anyway - the story I've told the closest friend I have and the story I share with rape victims to show that I understand. I keep thinking that if I say that over and over, then maybe I'll believe it, too. But I don't. And I have to tell someone. Even if they're strangers. Someone's gotta know.

So, here's the real story: I stopped my friend from being molsested. I had no weapon, but I was armed with one thing that I thought might save her: myself. I did that heroic thing they always do in movies. You know, the "Take me instead!" line. That's not exactly what I said, but he made the deal anyway - her for me.

But that was not the bad part. Scarring, yes, but the fact that I saved my best friend from something so terrible was the thought that made me feel all right, ya know?

Oi, was I wrong. That girl was not my best friend like I thought she was. She went and told the whole school that I "stole her boyfriend," then blamed it all on me when I finally confronted her. "You shouldn't have done that," she said. "You just want the attention," she said. Sometimes I think she wanted to be raped.

My virginity was forced from me at thirteen because of that girl. Because I couldn't let her go through that when there was something I could do. I don't even care what the fucking school kids thought, but the worst part is, she never apologized. I'm fifteen now and she's sixteen, and she looks at me in the halls at school with an apologetic look, but she never really apologized, and I daresay she never will. It's amazing how fast people can turn on you and never look back.

Now I'm left with that awful feeling that rape victims have - the nightmares, the paranoia, and the pure rage at the one who did this to you - and I haven't got that one good feeling about saving her to balance it all out.

But you know what? My "friend" and those three stupid, horny boys - they don't matter. They are after my misery, so why should they have it? I'm going to do what I've always wanted - never grow up (metaphorically), live in a massive tree house, write stories, and have great adventures like Indiana Jones and Peter Pan. Because that is much bigger than ten minutes of torture, though sometimes it doesn't seem so.

Well, I guess that's all. I just had to get it off my chest. If you took the time to read it, I thank you. And I hope other victims take my advice from the last part - you are much bigger that the situation you were put through - never forget that.

Happy livin'. :)