I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. It takes less than a second for me to realize I was having another nightmare. I dreamed about that night again, the night he touched me. I lay awake, terrified, knowing I won't be able to go back to sleep.
I feel a sharp pain in my hand and realize I've been clenching my fist. I look down and see two crescent shaped spots of blood on my right hand. I know it's irrational, but I'm terrified that he'll find me here. He's 5,000 miles away, but I still fear he'll come back.
I reach out and grab my phone. 2:37 AM. You won't be awake, but I text you anyway. "I'm scared." Two simple words, and that's all I have to say. I get a response almost immediately when you call. "That dream again? I'm right here." I can tell you were asleep and, even worse, I know you have finals in less than six hours. But you're still there for me.
"I won't let anything happen to you," you promise. You're the only one I've told all of this to, I haven't even told my parents everything. Your promise of safety helps a little. You stay awake with me for another hour, telling me stories, making me laugh.
"Get some sleep, kid," you tell me, "I won't let anything bad ever happen to you." This time, I know I'll feel safe enough to sleep. You're my hero.