The detective decided that I could be of no use to him and left, my Father left me alone, and I broke down in tears in the corner of my bedroom. Why had he left me alive? Was I special somehow? What made him change his mind about killing me too? Questions that I still can’t answer to this day.

            Several months later my friend Jimmy called me from San Francisco, I had never spoken of the incident to him, for all he knew his former roommate had just packed up and left without a word in the middle of the night. His call was short, “Hey Lacey, remember that Tony guy I lived with back in the day? Well he was arrested in Seattle a few days ago, they’ve got him down here in prison, his trial’s next month. Did you hear what they got him for? I guess he kidnapped, raped, and murdered a few girls. You two were friends, huh? I’m so sorry I ever got you mixed up with him. Well I gotta go to work, love ya.” Throughout the call I had remained silent, the information slowly registering within my mind. I cried again that day, I wish I could say it was the last time I cried over the incident but that would be a lie…I will say however that that was the first time I cried tears of joy.

 I spoke of the rape for the first time to my boyfriend when I was eighteen after I had broke down in tears mid coitus, he told me something that holds true to my heart even to this day. “Never regret your past, for the things that you went through then taught you, changed you, made you into the wonderful person you are today. Without those events you would be someone completely different, and if you like who you are then there’s nothing to regret. Hold your memories dear to your heart, leave the past behind you but always hold those memories, for it’s our experiences that give us stories and it’s those stories that make us who we are.”

            I no longer think of the incident in any bad terms, merely as something that I’m proud to have lived through. Tony was convicted and is serving three life sentences in an unnamed California prison. I look back now and I’m able to smile, knowing that that horrible experience played a part in making me who I am today, and I’m proud of who I am today. I write my story, not for myself, but for all the women and men out there living in shame or fear from their own horrible experiences. Yes, I understand that my situation could have been nightmarishly worse, yes I understand that many women and men have gone through much more horrible experiences than I can even dream of. But always remember, look at yourself today, do you like the person you see in the mirror? Not on the outside but on the inside? If so then what you went through, no matter how horrible it was, it helped mold you into the person you are today, and if you could survive what you survived then you can survive anything. I did.