my childhood best friend was molested

by her guitar teacher when she was 7

and i did not know what that meant.

i walk too fast for my mother

and i look over my shoulder

every 10 seconds and

i clinch the keys in my fingers

like a knife and i tell myself

to aim for the throat,

aim for the jugular.

my friends tell me it's ridiculous,

"nobody ever gets assaulted around here,"

and i don't know how to say,

"what if i am the exception,

what if i am the odd one out,"

or,

"most people just don't ever

say anything because for most people

it isn't the strange man at 3 am,

it's their friend,"

and yet,

i am so scared of that demon

lurking behind every alleyway,

every street corner.

my boyfriend walks me home when it's dark

and ignores how i am always scanning,

always searching, because of

that one news story that one time

but he knows. i know he knows,

because sometimes i catch his stare

and they are almost like a silent apology.

i don't blame men, i blame the media,

all the movies, shows, and books,

for making a boogeyman out of any male

out past 2 am, and i think i blame myself, too,

because i can't seem to let this shit go,

but it's 1 in 4 college women,

and i count my friends and i do the math

and if it's not me, it's one of them,

and 1 in 4 is too great a chance to

not be scared.

my childhood best friend was molested

at the age of 7 and i didn't know

how to talk about it.

i'm so scared i won't be able to talk about it.

-c.h.