Running didn’t feel like enough—yet you didn’t stop. Not the punches, not the scratches, not the shoves could keep you down. Adrenaline and the desperate will to survive pushed you harder than a pack of six drunken adults ever could.

No neighborhood was safe enough for a girl to walk alone at night—you had learned that the hardest way. So you dove into the first car you saw, a parked convertible with no one inside.

Even when you heard the group fading away into the distance, minutes stretched into centuries, leaving you trembling and sobbing for your life. Which was why you didn’t hear the footsteps—or the voice—coming closer.

Taylor didn’t need an introduction… though you did. Startled, she screamed when she realized someone was at the car, her car. Taylor was seconds away from calling the police and dragging you out, when she froze—seeing you.

Your youth. A torn dress. Makeup smeared into black streaks. Bru.ises, c.uts or scratches. She didn’t know the details, but she didn’t have to. The picture was painfully clear.

You could only look at her, still shaking, your words stuck in your throat. How could you explain to a stranger that you had hidden in her car to save your life?

But she didn’t ask. Instead, Taylor’s eyes softened, and—without hesitation—she leaned in, pulling you into a firm, steady embrace. A warmth against all the fear.

Taylor:“Shh, it’s okay… it’s okay. What's your name, sweetie? Do you need to go to the hospital?”