I jolted awake, my heart racing and my mind still reeling from the vivid dream that had just haunted me. Confused, I whispered to myself, "What just happened?" My hands trembled as I scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. It dawned on me that I was lying in the nurse's office, a place I had only visited a few times before. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, and I felt a wave of disorientation wash over me as I tried to piece together how I ended up here.
As I sat up slowly, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the small mirror on the wall. My breath hitched in my throat when I noticed a deep scratch running across my left eye, a stark reminder of whatever ordeal I had just experienced. The sight of it sent a shiver down my spine, and I instinctively reached up to touch the wound, wincing at the pain. My gaze then shifted downward, and I was met with the sight of a bloody bandage tightly wrapped around my wrist, the crimson stains seeping through the fabric, making my stomach churn.
Panic began to set in as I tried to remember what had led me to this moment. My mind raced with questions, each one more frantic than the last. Had I fallen? Was I in an accident? The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I felt a mix of fear and confusion. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the reality of my injuries and the remnants of the dream lingered like a shadow. I knew I needed answers, and I had to figure out what had happened In that dream.
As I push myself up, my legs feel unsteady, almost like jelly beneath me. Just then, the nurse bursts into the room, her eyes wide with alarm. "No, no," she exclaims, rushing to my side. "You have to stay in bed. I’ll call your parents right away." I can’t help but interrupt her, a mix of frustration and resolve bubbling up inside me. "That’s not necessary," I reply, trying to sound more composed than I actually am. "I’m completely fine to walk home." My gaze shifts to the clock, and I feel a lump in my throat as I fight back the tears that threaten to spill.
 I should have been back home two hours ago, and the thought weighs heavily on my mind. With a deep sigh, I realize it’s time to leave, so I quickly get out of bed. As I rush toward the door, my foot catches on something, and I stumble forward. The nurse, who has been watching me, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 
I try to reassure her, stammering, “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” but the moment I glance down, I see that my knee is covered in blood. The sight makes me wince, and I can’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and concern. It’s clear that I’m not as okay as I claimed to be, but I’m determined to leave this place and get back to my normal life. 
“Could I please have a bandage?” I ask, my voice sounding a bit more steady now. I know I need to take care of this injury before heading home, but the urgency to leave is still strong. I can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. Even though I’m in a bit of a mess, I’m one step closer to being back where I belong.
 I turn around, wincing as a sudden jolt of pain shoots through my knee and travels up my leg. "Could you hurry, please?" I ask, trying to keep my tone friendly despite the discomfort. "I really need to be home soon." The urgency in my voice is clear, but I make an effort to sound as polite as I can.
 "Oh dear, of course, sweetheart," she replies quickly, rushing to fetch the bandage. I can see her moving a bit faster now, but the pain in my knee is making it hard for me to stay calm. I glance at the clock, feeling the pressure of time weighing on me. "Um, could you please move a little faster? I was supposed to be home a while ago," I add, hoping to convey my need without sounding rude.
 The nurse looks a bit flustered as she stumbles over her words, "S-sorry." I can tell she’s trying her best, but the pain is really getting to me. I just want to get this over with so I can head home and rest. As she finally starts to wrap the bandage around my knee, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that soon this will all be behind me.
I let out a deep breath and asked, “Excuse me, Miss, but could you tell me your name?” She looked at me with a warm smile and replied, “Oh, of course, dear! I’m Mrs. Rolds.” As she carefully wrapped up my knee, her kindness made me feel a bit better. 
“Thanks for everything you’ve done for me,” I called out as I dashed toward the door, eager to leave. The thought of getting home quickly crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency. I really wanted to avoid facing my parents right now.
As I stepped outside, I sighed again, knowing that my parents would not be pleased with what had happened. The anxiety of their reaction loomed over me, making me wish I could just disappear for a while. I hoped that somehow, I could make it home without too much trouble.
I sprinted for several miles, pushing my body to its limits until I finally fell to the ground, exhausted. It became clear to me that if I kept going at that pace, I would only end up injuring myself further. So, I made the choice to slow down and walk instead, hoping that it would help me recover a bit.
 As I continued my journey on foot, I took in my surroundings, trying to catch my breath and regain some energy. The sun was slowly setting , and the road stretched out ahead of me, seemingly endless. Just when I thought I was alone on this long stretch, I heard the rumble of an engine approaching from behind.
To my surprise, an old white pickup truck came into view, rolling up behind me. I paused for a moment, wondering who might be inside and if they would offer me a ride. The sight of the truck brought a glimmer of hope, as I realized that perhaps I wouldn’t have to walk the entire way after all.
.An older man in a truck pulled down his window and inquired, “Hey there, sweetheart, do you need a ride?” I nearly begged him, saying, “Yes, please!” He looked at my bandaged knee, and I realized it was starting to bleed again. The sight of it made me feel vulnerable, but I was grateful for the chance to get some help.
"You doing okay there, miss?" he questioned, pointing at my leg. I looked down and realized that blood was leaking from the bandage, creating a stark contrast against my pale skin. Despite the situation, I forced a smile and replied,  I manage to say, pushing through the pain that’s radiating from my skin. It feels like the very surface is being torn away, but I try my best to keep my voice steady and calm. In the back of my mind, I keep telling myself that getting home quickly is crucial; otherwise, the pain in my knee will be the least of my worries.
 "Come on in," the elderly man says, his voice warm and inviting. I can’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and urgency as I consider my options. The throbbing in my knee is becoming more intense, and I know that if I don’t find a way to get home soon, I might be facing even bigger issues than just a scraped knee.
"I can drive you home," he said. "Thanks," I replied as I opened the door and slid into the seat. As we started moving, I couldn't help but notice that he kept glancing at me every few minutes. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but soon it became clear that his eyes were frequently drawn in my direction. This made me feel uneasy, and I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on anything else.
   After a little while, the tension in the car grew, and I finally mustered the courage to speak up. "Excuse me, sir, but why do you keep looking at me?" I asked softly, hoping to break the awkwardness. Unfortunately, it seemed like he either didn't hear me or chose to ignore my question entirely. The silence that followed felt heavy, and I could sense my heart racing as I tried to figure out what was going on in his mind.
 The atmosphere in the car was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and I wished I could just disappear into my thoughts. I glanced out the window, watching the scenery blur by, but the feeling of being watched lingered. It was strange to be in a situation where I felt both grateful for the ride and anxious about the attention I was receiving. I hoped we would reach my house soon, so I could escape this unsettling moment and regain my sense of comfort.
Just a few moments later, I felt his hand resting on my thigh. Confused and startled, I managed to stammer, “W-what are you doing?” as his hand began to move higher. I quickly reacted by shoving his hand away, my voice rising in panic as I shouted, “What the hell, man!”
 In an instant, everything escalated. Before I could fully process what was happening, he struck me across the face. The shock of the slap left me momentarily speechless, my heart racing as I tried to comprehend the sudden turn of events. It was as if time had frozen, and I was left grappling with a mix of disbelief and anger.

I felt a wave of fear wash over me. I had never expected this kind of behavior, and it left me feeling vulnerable and betrayed. I knew I had to stand my ground, but the intensity of the situation made it hard to think clearly. All I could focus on was the need to escape this uncomfortable and frightening moment.
In a panic, I begin to scream and struggle to escape from the confines of the truck. Suddenly, he yanks my hair, forcing my head to turn towards him, and then he kisses me unexpectedly. I thrash around, kicking and punching in a desperate attempt to break free, but his hold on me is unyielding. I feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I struggle to cope with the intense situation, vowing to resist his unwanted advances.
 My heart races as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing a canvas of tattoos that cover his skin. Just when I think I might escape, he pulls away from our kiss and begins to trail his lips down my neck, sending shivers of fear through me.
I can barely hold back my emotions as I fight against the panic rising within me. When he bites down on a sensitive spot on my neck, I stifle a sob, feeling completely trapped. The tears continue to flow, and in that moment, I realize that my chances of breaking free from this nightmare are slipping away.
The weight of the situation presses down on me, and I know I have to stay strong, even as I feel utterly helpless. Each kiss he plants on my skin feels like a reminder of my vulnerability, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m stuck in this moment for far too long. 
~~~~~
The guy threw me out of his truck, and as he drove off quickly, I could still hear his laughter fading into the distance. It was a moment that left me feeling completely violated and disgusted, making it difficult to move past the embarrassment I felt. Each step I took felt heavier, as if the emotions were physically weighing me down, and I couldn't help but break down in tears once more, completely overwhelmed by what had just happened to me.
 As I kept walking, an overwhelming wave of self-hatred washed over me. The whole situation had shattered my sense of self-worth, leaving me feeling exposed and fragile, like my dignity had been taken away. With every step I took, I felt the weight of my suffering, both in my body and in my heart, as blood seeped from my injuries, marking the earth with evidence of my struggle.
.It was as if the experience had completely dismantled my confidence, leaving me feeling raw and unprotected. Each slow step served as a painful reminder of my current state, with my physical wounds bleeding and creating dark stains on the ground, symbolizing the emotional turmoil I was enduring
The world felt like it was fading away, almost like I was caught in a bizarre dream that I couldn't wake up from. Each breath was a struggle, and the haunting laughter of that man replayed in my mind, a cruel echo of my own powerlessness. I continued to move forward, battling the feelings of shame and despair that threatened to consume me, all the while hoping to discover a way to heal from the scars of this painful encounter.