The school year was almost over, only half days were left. Mother dropped me off at my best friend’s house and drove off to work. I swam in the pool, played softball, drank pink lemonade, and ate a tuna fish sandwich. Yep, I was just playing with my friend. But what started out as an ordinary day would soon become the second worst nightmare of my life.

As my eleven year old friend played “camping” with me, we got into a fight. This was normal for us and we went inside away from each other: she in her room and I in the living room.

Now, every time my friend, and I got together, we had a fight. Every time we had a fight, her stepfather would take me aside and talk with me about my friendship with his stepdaughter.

After our fight, he came up to me and started leading me to an empty room. I thought Oh, great, another one of his famous talks. When we got to the room, he closed the door. I was a little alarmed at first because he had never closed the door before, but assumed he wanted to talk in private as always and shrugged off the crazy notion.

As he talked to me about my friendship with his stepdaughter, he walked closer and closer. He kept talking in hopes that I wouldn’t notice his hands slipping under my shirt and rubbing my back.

His forceful and vulgar movements of his hands were no match for this eleven year old. I tried and tried to reach the door, but the more I tried, the more scared I became of him.

Finally, he was distracted from me by a noise outside and I ran away praying he wouldn’t follow. I locked the door of my friend's room and cried as I waited for the door to give way to his violent blows.