Your name doesn't matter, for to me, you were just a stranger in a Volkswagen who gave me a ride. And to you, I was just a number, a cute 14 year old anonymous kid, one of God knows how many.

I think about it a lot. Even though you weren't the first to molest me, you probably did more damage than most. At 14, I was just beginning to explore my sexuality, and I was vulnerable. All my sexual antennas were active, but then you knew that, didn't you? That's why you picked kids like me. We were easy prey; we were little enough to feel scared and overpowered by you, old enough to sexually respond to what you did.

I hated you, and I have forgiven you. Because to not forgive you meant I always lived for you, thought about you, lived in the darkness of what you did and longed for vengeance. Five years after you raped me, I saw you while I was driving, and pressed the accelerator to the floor to kill you. You were still driving the same Volkswagen. Only God's grace pulled back my foot and let you live. And then I knew that you bound me still. And so I forgave not because it was rational but because it was killing me not because you deserve it but because I needed to let it go. Forgive means "give forth" and so I gave back the chains you put me in. I don't hate you anymore. I feel nothing at all, but sadness, for what you took from me that I can never reclaim my adolescence.

I do pray for you for repentance, if possible. And if not, for imprisonment not to punish you (for you must loath your every breath) but to stop you. Because if you raped me, I wasn't the first, and certainly not the last.

I pray for all the kids you raped like me. You cannot know what you took, what you destroyed. The walking wounded see your face, feel your evil touch and blame themselves.