I would tell my mom about what happened and let her fumble. Ultimately, I would expect her help, but I would forgive the fumble.
Misty had given me courage, even that night. She had been a witness and stayed, I had felt afraid but not entirely alone.
She validated something in me.
"Misty," I whispered as I began to pass out.
She made no sound but I felt her lift her head.
I let go then. Passed out in my dirty old town with a plan to tidy up.
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Follow this link to see my video on YouTube: Molestation: A (common) Story
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