What’s the Most Shocking Announcement Your School Ever Made?

I wrote about how I jumped at shadows now and how I had to leave my home because of his obsession. But I also wrote about the support group and how we were helping other kids.

I wrote that I wouldn’t let his actions define my life. The judge sentenced him to three years in actual prison this time, with mandatory psychiatric treatment and a permanent restraining order when he got out.

His dad actually wrote me a letter from prison. It wasn’t an apology exactly, but close.

He said he’d been thinking about how his violence had created more violence. He said Alvin had learned from him that hurting people was how you dealt with problems.

He was in therapy too. It was court-ordered, but still.

He said he hoped I could move on and have a good life. He said that I deserved better than getting caught up in their family mess.

I didn’t write back, but I kept the letter. It was proof that people could change.

Maybe. The support group threw me a welcome-back party when I returned to regular meetings.

The Path to Recovery and Breaking the Cycle

They’d made a banner and everything. We had twice as many members now.

These were kids who’d heard about what happened and realized they needed help too. Some were being abused at home.

Some were in controlling relationships. Some were dealing with bullying that had gone too far.

We all had different stories, but the same need to be heard and believed. We needed to know we weren’t alone or crazy.

I graduated high school with decent grades despite everything. I got into a state college about three hours away.

It was far enough to feel like a fresh start, but close enough to come home on weekends. My parents helped me move into the dorms.

Dad triple-checked all the locks, and Mom made friends with the campus security office. I rolled my eyes but secretly appreciated it.

They’d been through a lot too. Watching your kid get stalked by someone you’d welcomed into your home had to be rough.

College was good for me. Nobody knew my story unless I told them.

I could just be Eve, not “Eve who survived that crazy thing.” I studied psychology because understanding why people did what they did felt important.

Now my professor said I had good instincts for it, probably from lived experience, though I didn’t tell them that. I started a new support group on campus.

Turned out lots of college kids needed that kind of help too. Junior year I got a notification that made my blood run cold.

Alvin was being released early for good behavior, two years instead of three. The restraining order was still in effect, but paper doesn’t stop someone who’s determined.

I called the detective who handled my case. He was retired now but remembered everything.

He said to trust my instincts and call 911 if anything felt off. The prison was supposed to notify me when he actually got out, but sometimes wires got crossed.

I spent the next few weeks jumpy as hell. Every unfamiliar face on campus could be him.

Every wrong-number phone call made me panic. My roommate, Julia, thought I was losing it until I explained everything.

Then she got protective too. She started walking me to classes and checking in constantly.

It was annoying but sweet. It was good to have people who cared.

The campus security knew about the situation too. They had his photo and would patrol extra around my dorm.