Apartment — Saturday 11:32 pm

I lock the door behind me and turn off the lights. I need the dark. Crave the shield it offers. With my back to the mirror, I sit on the floor. Trembling, I pull my legs to my chest.

This is it.

The moment I'm dreading.

But I'm ready now. Ready to say the words that's been building up for weeks.

The light of my phone blinds me but it doesn't matter. I don't need to see. The number is etched in my brain. My fingers know the sequence. It's one I've dialed over and over again. But this time I press the one button that matters.

Send.

The ringing sends large shudders through my body. I'm so nervous I can't sit still. I'm moments from this becoming real. Moments from admitting to them, and myself what happened.

Will they judge me?

Will I judge myself?

"Hope Hotline. Can I help you?"

This is it.

I open my mouth. Silence is what I get in return.

Why can't I speak?

Why won't the words form?

"It's okay. You don't need to speak if you don't want to. I can stay on the line with you as long as you need."

I don't know what I need. I don't even know what I want. But the one thing I do know is...

I am not some girl.

I am more.

"Hello." My voice is scratchy, barely audible. I can hear the fear, the vulnerability but what hurts the most, is the brokenness. I used to be bright. Cheerful. And now...I'm shattered. Defeated.

NO.

I can't let this defeat me.

I can't let him defeat me.

I refuse to be empty anymore.

I can do this.

I can be brave.

I can admit what happened.

I am not some girl.

I am more.

"I was raped."