At this time last year, I sat in the audience alone, holding back tears, as my story of how it happened here was read aloud. I kept telling myself that if I could just make it back to my room, it would be ok. I would be safe. But I returned to that room where it happened, sitting on the bed where I couldn’t get you to stop. Where I told you I was too tired, and rolled over, pretending to sleep. But you continued to try to shove your dick in me from behind until I eventually ran out, and hid, leaving you in my room because I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that telling my story would make it finally go away, but it just made it more real. Each night for the rest of my freshman year, I returned to my room to sleep in the bed where it happened. I thought that this year would be a fresh start, being in a new room, and sleeping in a new bed, but once again, I was wrong. When I went to the health center and told them about the headaches I’ve been getting for months now, they found no medical reasons, and suggested it may be stress. The nurse looked through my file, as I sat there, expecting the words that I knew were to come. “I see you had a sexual assault in the past few years. Is that something that has surfaced recently?” I lied and said no. I wasn’t lying completely, it honestly hadn’t resurfaced, it was just always there. “Have you talked to a counselor about your experience?” “Not really,” I responded, agreeing with her that it may be helpful to try, yet after I had answered all of her questions, I quickly walked out without making any such appointment. A week later, I found myself in my pediatrician’s office, being prescribed an anti-depressant to treat the headaches, as he clarified, “not that I think you’re depressed,” while gently glancing at the scars on my feet. Of course, he had no idea what had happened at college, but it seemed that he could imagine. Now, each night I take that small white pill, and remember the night that it happened here. I eventually escaped that night, but I will never escape the memories.