There’s a face she barely remembers. But she sees it everywhere. On every man who looks remotely like that face. The memories are so vague that the face appears more often than it should. Sometimes lack of memory is more painful than remembering. The fear of uncertainty is a dull, aching, repetitive pain. That moment when you walk into a room and see blue eyes, and a round face with blonde hair and you panic, because there are a million blue eyes and round faces and blonde heads but it could be his this time and you won’t even realize it. All you have is memories of blurry vision, standing in a sprinkler and being pinned down, helpless, scared. Sinking in and out of consciousness, unable to move, under him, on your bed, surrounded by your teddy bears and dolls, and a shadow of a round face. Chubby cheeks and blonde hair, until you’re waking up in the ER…shaken by the rape.