I always thought I was safe, you know? I mean, it wasn't really something I thought about before. It's not like I had a reason to worry about being particularly unsafe. I've always been perfectly normal anyways. Nothing exciting or dangerous happened to me. I was a plain Jane in every sense of the phrase, and nothing strange or particularly astonishing ever happens to people like me. My entire philosophy, however, was completely and drastically changed after being attacked and raped one night. I probably would have been killed if it weren't for Drake Collins, the closed off "tough guy" of my school. He came to my rescue, and reluctantly swore not to breathe a word to anyone. Unfortunately, my attacker escaped. It was after that, that I closed myself off from the few people that I did talk to before. My safety, my very sense of security, was violated. My world was swept out from under my feet. Drake stayed by my side the entire time, helping me through my struggles. He became the only one I could talk to or confide in, and was soon the only reason I woke up each morning. He kept me safe.