© shraddha mishra
. I'm only sixteen so it's not like I have a lifetime of things to say. It's also strange to know this will be published for everyone to see. I've always kept everything inside. No one ever knew about the conflict raging inside; people always described me as bubbly and upbeat.

To be raped is one the most horrifying experiences, especially for an already confused fourteen year old. After the rape my brain shut down. I felt numb, I felt like a shell. All my feelings – the hurt, shame, anger, guilt, sadness, and confusion were all locked away.

I felt like I was seeing myself as an outsider. I watched myself smile, laugh, and have fun, but I didn't feel any of it. When I looked in the mirror I didn't know the face that stared back at me. That's when I started cutting. It allowed me to feel my existence, and feel pain, but a different kind of pain. A controlled pain that I was in charge of, I had some sense of control over my out of control life.

My parents found out about the cutting and were shocked and confused. I refused to talk to them about it or tell them anything. I couldn't talk about the rape. If I talked about it I would feel it, it would be real. I wanted to pretend like it didn't happen, and if no one knew it was easier to pretend.

They took me to a therapist who I hated. I decided a therapist wasn't the solution, I decided the solution was to leave. If I left my city and went to a boarding school I would be away from all my problems. That, of course, didn't work. I couldn't run away from my problems because I couldn't escape myself. When I realized that I felt like I had hit rock bottom. By this time I had been through countless therapists and social workers. I wouldn't talk to any of them. I was still cutting and starting to get really depressed. I skipped school almost every day and my grades dropped drastically.

I couldn’t run away from my problems because I couldn’t escape myselfThen I started to have the dreams—horrible...