Peter noticed the marks and bruises that would appear from time to time. He always said he wished he could take away all my pain. I never told him exactly what was going on in my life. I thought if he knew how evil I was, he would never speak to me again. It may have been cruel to leave him in the dark, especially since he really cared about me, but I didn't have the courage to tell anyone. I didn't even want to admit it to myself.

I also developed allergies to pollen. It was about that point I started to take over the counter allergy medicine to stop sneezing. This stuff made me really drowzy. When I stopped taking them, I noticed wheezing and creaking noises in my lungs when I laid down at night. So I made sure I always had them on hand. I didn't know at the time I had an infection in my lungs. I was afraid of the wheezing noises and didn't want to tell my mom, but I eventually had to so she could get me to a doctor.

Even before I took those allergy pills, my mom always accused me of doing illegal drugs. She was always paranoid that I was off doing something wicked. She wanted to think the worst of me. They more she accused me of such things, the more I closed my life off from her. The more private I became, the more paranoid she was. It was a vicious cycle. At times, I was glad when she decided not to talk to me. I certainly didn't want to talk to her either.

My grades remained mediocre and then got worse. This was right about the time when I was coming home after school. I got off the bus, we took public transportation, and went to a corner store to get a pop and then go home. I didn't get more than a block until this kid stopped me. He had a knife in his hand. He got right behind me and twisted my arm and walked me to the alley. He wanted me to hand over all of my money. I gave it to him. He threw me on the gravel and got on top of me and raped me. He then left. I was so scared and so ashamed. I was frozen. I felt paralyzed. After he was long gone, I slowly got up, still not realizing fully what happened. I was shaking. When I got home, my sister asked me what was wrong. All I could say is I got mugged and not to tell mom and dad.

I couldn't really comprehend it. I cried for a short time and stopped and then acted like nothing ever happened. I even completely forgot about it, except during sketchy flashbacks. I never walked down that street again.

I really wasn't the same after that point. I wished I were dead. If the end were coming, I wished it would come soon and put me out of my misery. I really started to cut on myself hard then. The self abuse even went into me burning myself with a curling iron.

I was a mess and even tried to put a distance between Peter and myself. I didn't deserve him for a friend. I really just gave up and went through the motions day to day.

Then comes summer vacation and a new change of heart.