My pixie haircut acted as a solid, physical reminder that I was no longer that scared little girl who wanted to disappear. I intentionally focused on my queen-sized bed and my huge closet. I am grown-up. I never have to see him again. It was just a nightmare. I made these words my silent mantra, repeating them over and over until my breathing normalized and the shaking subsided.

Once I was reasonably calm, I flopped back down on my bed wondering if I would ever be able to escape the torture of that horrible man, or if he would continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.

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