“I was scared. Not of the writing – but of remembering. Of telling the truth about the moments I was still scared to speak about out loud. The drugs. The betrayal. The jail cell. The blood on the sheets. The men who hit me. The ones I went back to anyway. The shame. The silence. But I knew this was the right time. Because I finally didn’t care about being judged. I cared about being real. That was the day I realized – telling my story wasn’t about fixing the past. It was about finally letting it go.”