One cold winter night in the city, I was walking home from Michelle's house. As I approached my apartment building, I met up with a couple of guys I grew up with. We all walked into the building together and waited for the elevator. The door opened, and I was the last to enter. It was just the four of us, T.J., Brian, Steven and me. I felt kind of funny this time on the elevator because we were all really quiet, and they were staring at me. All of a sudden, T.J. pushed a button and the elevator stopped. I yelled at him, "Why did you press that button?" Steven grabbed my shirt, covered my mouth, and threw me on the floor. I was biting, kicking and screaming for help. They were grabbing me and telling me to do nasty things. My next door neighbor Mike heard me screaming for help and somehow opened the door and grabbed me by my arm and pulled me up. The guys went running down the stairway. Mike took me to my house. My t-shirt was soaked with nervous sweat, and my head felt like a ripe pumpkin. They were arrested but stayed in jail for just a month because they didn't get a chance to rape me fully. When they were released, I was scared of them. They told everyone about this like they were proud of doing a troubled thing like that to me.

I lived on the fourteenth floor of my building, and I walked up the stairs for the rest of the time I lived there. I told my mother and father to get away from this place, but they didn't have enough money to move, so they sent me to a group home in Rockland County. I've been in my new home for almost two years. I miss the Bronx in some ways, even though being up here is much better for me. And my new home only has stairways, no elevators. c