I understand why those who have been attacked don't speak up. Because they watch those, who do get torn to pieces and spit out. I was one of those.

When I was younger, I planned EVERYTHING! I remember when I was about to turn twelve I planned the biggest birthday party my school had ever seen. The party was a huge success; eighth grade was no different. Some friends and I decided to throw a Halloween party and to make it all better; I found out my mother wasn't going to be home that night. We were young and innocent, alcohol wasn't an option, nor was drugs.

We had money for the food, decorations and we all decided to bring every CD we could get our hands on. We had an awesome guest list, full of all our closest friends, mostly ones we grew up with and a few that we met over the years. Then the guy I had the biggest crush on asked if he could come. I was so excited, he knew who I was, AND he wanted to come to my party.

The day of that party I was waiting on this guy to show up. I just wanted to hang out with him, have a chance to get to know him. Hmph, he came alright, and he brought three other guys with him. He wasn't there to get to know me; he was there to crash our party. Nothing for him and his friends was right. According to them, the food wasn't good enough, the room was too bright, and we didn't have the right music.

I tried to make it better, I tried to find the right music from neighbors, no one was home. When I got back to my house, the lights were off, and the girls were complaining because dummy and crew were all hands. I stood up to them, I turned on the lights, and I tried to be firm. But my act of bravery failed me.

Instead of being the hero, I became a victim that night. I told everyone to go outside when the guys started destroying my house. I protected my guest, and they attacked me. Four guys ages 13 to 15; I was 14. They fought to get my clothes off, their hands were under my clothes, touching my skin. I owed them something and they planned to take it. I fought for my life.

Out of all those friends that were there, ONE friend tried to help me. They, in turn, split up and tried to attack us both. When her Dad showed up, I thought we were saved. All the other kids got rides out and left us, but I knew her Dad would save us. He chose to save only her. I helped her get out the door and was left with four guys who were growing impatient with me. I got them out, only for them to find a new way in. I have no idea how long it lasted. I couldn't dream of telling the whole story blow by blow, but I know they finally left. Why? I can't remember, but when they left, I remained strong to try to get my house together.

The rest of the night was a blur, and my mother came home fussing, but I never said a word. At school, things were awkward; everyone was acting as if nothing happened. So I sent a message to the counselor.

I reported my attack. My mother took me to the police where I told my story three times, and me being a black girl in Virginia, I was told I probably wanted it.

I WANTED IT! I was bruised, broken and destroyed, yet I wanted it? To add insult to shame, I was bullied because the police made the boys aware that I came to them. Every day I went to school, someone attacked me. I had a gun pulled on me in a park. I fought every day until we moved for my life.

Who would make something up to go through any of that? In our world, victims are beaten, torn down and destroyed. The leaders of our country are showing that its ok to do it. When will that change?

They ask why someone would wait so long to report it, because if the guy was a jock, rich, or popular, then the girl had to be lying. THIS IS NOT OK! Believe victims, and stand up for them. Let's get charges pressed and privileged predators arrested!