When I was 7, I was molested by a 44 year old man. He had lured my friend and I into his house. We were naive due to the fact that we lived in a upper class, super safe neighborhood. He didn’t come off as creepy or suspicious but rather genuine. He also wasn’t a complete stranger. We had passed by his house before and he had always been super nice. There had even been a few instances where my parents would be with me and he would strike up a conversation with my dad.

He told us that my parents had been looking for us and that they were in his backyard. We followed him into the yard where he proceeded to introduce us to his dog. He told us that our parents must have gone inside so we followed him in.

Upon entering the house, I immediately sensed something was wrong. He led us into a room that connected directly to a bedroom and sat us both down on a small couch. He asked if we wanted anything to drink, an offer to which we both passed. He then asked if I would follow him into the next room. He told my friend that we would be right back. I won’t go into the full details, but he proceeded to rape me. It all happened rather quickly. He kept yelling out to my friend, telling her we were almost done. He never mentioned anything about my parents again and on the way out of the bedroom, he demanded that I not tell them or anyone else of being at his house. He had a large handgun and various knifes lying on the dresser towards the side of the bed and he eyed them multiple times while talking to me on the way out. It worked, as I never told anyone, even my friend, of what he did. When we returned to her, he said that we had just gotten off the phone with my mother and that we should return home.

A few months after my horrific run in with the monster, he lured another pair of girls, around the same age, into the same situation. As he was molesting the first girl, the other one managed to figure out what was going on. She snuck inside his room, grabbed his loaded handgun that was lying on the dresser, and fired the fatal shot at him.

It was later revealed that he had abused dozens of young girls before that brave girl wiped him off the face of the earth. I was one of those who came forward after the cops came to my parents with suspicion that I had been a victim. For whatever reason, he had written down the names of all the girls and the names of their parents. The list was found during the raid of his house.

The story never made major headlines because her parents wanted to keep her out of the public eye. The news made headlines around our local area, but the reason behind his death was never publicly announced and most had assumed he killed himself before authorities could reach him. The only reason my parents found out was because they were among the first to get a visit from the authorities just days after his death. They had not yet been asked by the girls parents to keep things discreet. My parents received a phone call a few days later begging them to cooperate and not tell anyone that didn’t already know about the events that led to his death. They were asked to not comment due to legal reasons when approached by anyone with curiosity on the topic.

I’m in my early 30’s now and still have ptsd from the incident, but knowing he no longer exists gives me a strong sense of peace. The parents of the hero girl certainly succeeded in protecting the privacy of their daughter. I never was able to track her down and up until a few weeks ago, I figured I’d never know her identity. A few months back, I made the decision to call my friend who had been with me the day I was abused. We unfortunately drifted apart over the years, but still kept up just a bit through social media. I think we both realized the unique bond we would always share because of the horror we experienced together. It had been years since we talked in person but I felt she was the only person that would make me feel better in a moment where I was feeling anxious and overwhelmed.

I first told her about my growth and how proud I was of myself for having the strength to finally discuss things in detail with her. I then told her about the few nasty and perverted replies I had gotten on a Reddit post I made which made me feel uneasy, but ultimately what made me delete the original post was guilt over telling a story which heavily involved both her and the girl who killed my abuser. I told her it wasn’t right for me to share a story like this with the world without both of their permission, even with it being anonymously. She responded so gracefully and told me that the story could change a life if the right person reads it. She encouraged me to re post but I told her I still wouldn’t feel comfortable doing so unless the other girl was informed of it. As it turns out, her parents knew who the girl was all along. My friend tracked down her Facebook account and suggested I send her a message.

It took a few days for me to find the courage, but I ended up sending her a long message about everything. I feared she would think I was a creep and would see me as a threat to out her identity. After a week or so without a reply, I sent another message apologizing to her for being invasive. I wrote that I wouldn’t bother her again and assumed that was the end of it. Last week, I was getting ready for bed when my phone got a notification saying she had replied. I opened it instantly and was amazed by what she wrote. I don’t want to share too much, but she gave her blessing for me to share the story again (with her name remaining anonymous of course). She told me that if I ever needed someone to talk to, she would be there for me. I thanked her for her actions that saved not only my life, but so many others that would have otherwise been affected in a horrible way. She was extremely humble, saying she was one of the lucky ones considering he never got to her. I can report that she is very happy, married to a very handsome man (she could be a model herself) and they have a beautiful family together. Hopefully I can get there soon!