I wish my brain had an OFF button. It’s really hard to fall asleep when your head is buzzing with a thousand different thoughts. It’s really hard to fall asleep when you’re terrified.

I roll over to my right side and stare at my window. The blinds are down so I can’t see outside, but the moonlight peeks through, illuminating my room. I glance at my radio alarm clock and I see that it is a little after three in the morning. I’m so exhausted, yet so awake at the same time.

Since I have nothing else to do, I decide to get out of bed and go over my options. I sit at my old wooden desk and find a sheet of paper. I then get out a pen and tap it against the desk rhythmically. My mind wanders often, so I vow to concentrate. This is probably to most important decision I’m ever going have to make.

I hug my stomach and lean forward. I have no idea what to do. I’m only sixteen years old! I can’t make life-altering choices by myself. But…if I tell anyone, what would happen? Would they look at me strangely? Would they help me? Would they care? I have a strange feeling inside of me saying that no, no one would help me…

Tears start leaking out of my eyes. I grab a tissue and dry them. This is no time for panicking or crying, I tell myself. I have to be strong because it’s not just me anymore. It’s never going to be “just me” anymore.

With a shaky hand, I write down: “Tell mom and dad”

I can’t think of anything else. I know I have to tell someone, and I know I have to go see a doctor. But, what would my parents do if I told them? Would they still love me? Would they think it was my fault and blame me? Would they understand?

With all these hundreds of questions swimming in my mind, I start getting a headache. I rub my temples, but it doesn’t help.

I think back to three weeks ago, when I was at that party my best friend Laura dragged me to. I really didn’t want to go, but she told me Finn, the guy I really liked, was going to be there.

I’m not much of a party person. I don’t like huge crowds of people or loud, blaring music. So, when we arrived, I sat on one of the couches as Laura went dancing right away. I watched people as they mingled, danced, and got drunk. I wondered if the cops were going to show up because I really doubted the host’s parents were there.

After an hour of just sitting around aimlessly, talking to no one, I went to go eat something. When I made my way to the long table of food, a guy on the other side, holding two cups of punch, walked up to me. “Hey,” He said.

I eyed him curiously. He was tall, dark, and handsome. I wondered why the heck he was talking to me. I wasn’t anything special, and there were a lot of girls better looking than me here. “Hi,” I replied quietly.

“Here,” He offered me one of the cups of punch. I took it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” He grinned at me, revealing his dimples. God, he was so cute…at the time. “I’m Tristan.”

“I’m Fiona.” I told him. I gulped down the drink, and he just smiled at me.

For the next hour or so, we talked, and I found myself getting drowsy. Everything was confusing me, and my vision was blurring. I wondered what was wrong with me. Tristan offered to help me to a bedroom upstairs so I could rest. I agreed that that was a good idea and we made our way to the second floor.

Once we got to the bedroom, he started kissing me hard, and I told him to stop, and I tried pushing him away, but my words came out slurred and my hits were feeble. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. He pushed me onto the bed…and the rest is too painful to think about. But even if I force myself to not think about it, the memories will always follow me. There is no way to escape it.

I’m sobbing with my head on the desk. I know it wasn’t my fault that this happened, and I know it wasn’t my fault what Tristan did to me (I doubt that was even his real name), but I still feel so guilty. When I remember his face, I don’t see the handsome face I first saw, but rather a monster—a horrible, disgusting monster.

I look at the small, opened box in the garbage can next to me. It held the device which confirmed my suspicion. I will never be the same.

Until morning, I cry. I crumple up the paper and make my decision. I need to take a leap of faith and trust that God will take care of me. I need to do this, despite how petrified I am.

At six forty-five a.m. I hear my mom leave her room and start making her way downstairs. I run out of my room and rush to her. “Mom, hold on!” I call to her. She stops at the foot of the stairs. I go to her and she takes in my red, puffy face and completely messed up hair.

“Are you alright, honey?” She asks.

Take a leap of faith Fiona, I tell myself. Your mom is still your mom no matter what. She will love you regardless of what happened.

I hug her and start weeping again. “Mom…I have to tell you something…” I show her the pregnancy test and tell her the story of the party that will forever haunt me.