JOANNE MORIN CORREIA

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As a child in the 60s, my best friend Stephen was molested by our guitar teacher on Main Street in Enfield. Ct. When they tried to get me to join them, I ran out of the Music Store and hid in the Catholic church across the street. I feared what I had witnessed, and I did not understand what was happening to my best friend. I told no one. I moved to a different school away from Stephen at the end of the school year. We didn't discuss those things back in the day. 

  In the mid-1970s, while in high school, Stephen and I worked at the same department store, GFOX, in the mall. He sat next to me, waiting for a ride, and tried to talk to me about what had happened seven years earlier. I couldn't open that door, and I walked away; he committed suicide that night. 

I dedicate this book to Stephen, as he was unaware of the impact of this predictor on him. We need to discuss this to protect our children and others. I wish I had known this that evening and been able to give him more support.

The lead singer asked me on stage to dance several times during the week, and I saw him a few times around the apt. On the final night, he asked me if I would like a tour of the island before I flew home the next day. Did I want to see other apartments in case I wanted to return? I said yes. 

At his apartment, there were several men, and he pushed me into a bedroom, where there were several knives on the table. He raped me as I pretended to cooperate (I worked for Plan Parenthood, and we were told rapists usually do not murder their victims). Then he brought me to the airport, and I made it to my plane to return to Boston. He called me a few years later to ask me out on a date. 

I was at an IBM event in San Francisco at a "closed" mall with a fantastic band; my male business partner, John, did not want to stay. I told him to leave, and I would taxi back and meet him in the morning. 

In less than an hour, I felt like I was going to black out, so I said to the person I was hanging with, I do not feel right, and I headed to the ladies' room. 

I blacked out before I was able to close the stall door and woke up @30 minutes later; I was date drugged. The ladies helped me get a taxi, and I returned safely to the hotel.      

At night, sometimes, I replay in my mind the women and children telling their 1,000s of stories of survival when men and women tried to do unspeakable things to them. We taught hundreds of them in our classes as they were filled with children from 3 to 16, foster children, nurses, case workers, teachers, wives, cult escapers, realtors, domestic abuse and rape survivors, and yes, murder witnesses.