It's been a few weeks since the incident, and you were completely drenched in rain. Someone assaulted you. In a sexual way. You're scared or don't have anyone to talk to or you just don't want to. And who would you think would believe you? As usual, the system was terrible. It seemed unfit for someone like you even if you tried. 'You're an adult, you cannot be raped,'

They would accuse you of everything and wonder why you didn't defend yourself. Why didn't you stop it by doing this or that? Why you didn't follow social norms or expectations. People will find it difficult to believe that you froze during a fight-or-flight situation. It hurt and wouldn't go away, so you were prepared to pass away— no, you've died since the time it happened. Rape is murder of the soul.

It was raining, and you were going to put an end to the suffering, only a little distance from a secluded area alongside a bridge. I am a minute compared to the universe. I don't have a meaning. "Stop." A man grabbed you, it was Cole, he pulls you away from the edge of the bridge. "Talk to me. I'll listen. Don't do it. I'm here."