CHAPTER 1

It's Friday. July 8, 2010. 7: 23 in the morning. The sun isshining through my windows and I can almost bet that it is like 120degrees outside. I struggle to get out of bed and I begin to think, Whydo I need to wake up? It's so early! Dang! Ughhhhhhh!

I wish I was back with my family and friends in New York. But it'stime to get my mind back to business. Back home; back in Boston. Ireturned from New York yesterday, Where I visited my cousins Ashley,Nolis, and Chayanne, and, of course, "J;" the most stubborn man inthe world, but the only one who makes my heart twirl. The man I loveso much.

Even though I was on vacation, I maintained my schedule of joggingthrough the busy streets of New York City. I've been training for theBaystate Marathon in October, so I still have a few more months. I'mrunning not only to stay healthy, but to honor cancer survivors.

In reality, it is about ninety-something degrees but it is still toobrutal to go for a run. Nonetheless, I remind myself that excuses aremade by those who can't commit. Sticking to my training agendahas been a challenge, but it serves as a path to find peace and to helpdiscover myself. I can't stop now. I can't stop ever. In the summer, I tendto begin my jogs before sunrise but there are days when the sheets keepme in bed a little longer than I expect. Can you blame me?

I could stay in bed. Or ...

I could push my limits.

The sun rays light up my entire bedroom, forcing me to keep myeyes wide open. No more thinking! Get up!

I stretch myself awake, turn on Pandora for some morning melodies.I change into my running gear, braid my unruly hair to a pigtail andbrush away my morning breath. I wiggle into my leggings, gulp downa protein shake, and grab my iPod.

I drive to my usual jogging spot near the baseball stadium at theUniversity of Massachusetts at Lowell. After I park my car, I abandonmy black-and-white purse in the passenger seat where I usually leavemy cell phone. I finally feel disconnected from the world and ready fortake-off.

With my headphones in ears, I begin my usual run. The rapidshuffle of music on my

iPod keeps me focused and feeds my adrenaline. Sometimes I chooseto skip a bunch of songs just to listen to Alicia Keys. She's my favorite;her lyricism inspires me in a number of ways; but most importantly, sheinspires me to B Beyond Words. To B Beyond Words means, to pushyourself beyond your past, your fears, your obstacles, your shadows, andthe labels that people attempt to use to define you.

The scenic trial by the river always fills my mind with peace andallows for meditation. The river cools the air on ninety-degree summermornings. I look at my watch and notice it's a few minutes past 9:00AM. I'm only on my third lap and I have so much more distance tocover. Today, my path looks sad and desolate since there are barely anyrunners. Only a lunatic like myself would run in this scorching heat.

Suddenly, I cross paths with a young man. He smiles at me. I smileback. I feel all the hair follicles in my body stand at attention. Thepatterns of my heartbeat all of a sudden lose control. No matter howmuch I want to catch up, I just can't find the rhythm.

He's a tall. White male. Dark hair. Wearing a black tank top.Around his hand, I noticed he was carrying a knotted white grocerybag which read Thank You in red lettering. I slowed down and beginwalking north while he walks south. I glanced back, and one's there.He's still walking away. A new song begins. I look down to my iPodand see Tanks album cover on the screen as the piano keys of the songScream genuflect in my ears. Before I can take two steps forward, I feelsomething bad inside of me, like an animal instinct. Intuitively, I feelthreatened. Before I can finish my thought and turn my head and taketwo steps forward, I close my eyes to pray silently.

Lord, I know nothing is going to happen to me, but ...

But. I just need to look back again. As I turn my head to release mybreath, I feel his face is right next to mine. It's already too late. I can'tget away. He smells like fear as he grabs me by the neck and begins tochoke me. My eyes are wide open. The music disappears. All I can hearis myself gasping for air, fighting to gather the strength to shout for help,to get away, to stay alive. I fight his hold, but fail. My feet up in the airflail with no sense of direction, as I am being squeezed like a fruit.

Get off me, I want to shout for help but I drown in silence. All I seeis the sky, dense with menacing clouds. Dad, please don't let me die today.God, help me. Help me, pray.

CHAPTER 2

It's pitch black. I see nothing. I hear the sound of nature. Birdchirping, leaves moving, and the sound of the river water flowing downthe stream. Where am I? Am I in the jungle? Why is my body in so muchpain? Am I in a dream? A nightmare?

I say aloud, Lord, was I not grateful enough for my past life that you'vedecided to give me a new beginning somewhere else?

My eyes open to shadows of tree branches and falling leaves. Wheream I? What happened? Every part of my body burns, especially mythroat. My neck sticky with tears, I look around and don't recognize mysurroundings. I'm alone. Terrified. I don't know what to expect.

I notice a river ahead of me. I see trees everywhere, making me feellike I'm in the jungle. I lower my head and close my eyes, try to go tosleep, hoping to wake up in a different place. I do this over and overagain.

Where am I? Why am I in so much pain? I say to myself, Okay, if thisis a dream and I need to fight to wake up, I'll fight. Who am I? BiancaRamirez. Who is my mother? Who do I love? Jaaaaaa.

Oh, my God. I stand quickly, but I trip after trying to walk, noticingthat my pants and panties are wrapped around my knees. I desperatelypull everything up and take some steps to find someone, anyone. I tryshout for help but my voice sounds low with pain.

I run to the U Mass Lowell parking lot. I can't stop crying. In theparking garage, I see a woman. An Angel. Please help me. I'm amazed Ihave it in me to form these words.

I loose my strength and collapse to my knees, while she calls thepolice. Curls of nausea flow through my body. I want to explode intomillions of little pieces.

The police arrive and ask me how I am and if I can walk. I nodmy head and close my eyes. Hoping they understand what I'm tryingto say.

Do you know who did this to you?

I shake my head. I'm trembling. One of the officers hands me hisjacket as I gather my strength and wait for the ambulance. When theparamedics arrive, I'm given some water as I prepare myself to give mystatement.

I began jogging before nine. Then I crossed paths with a white guy.Small lips. He was wearing a dark tank top and was holding a white bagthat said Thank You. He ... he was. But after I say the words thank you Ican no longer control myself collapsing to tears.

Then the interrogation continues. Can I show them where theattack happened? How many minutes ago? All sorts of questions. It'salmost as scary as the attack, but in a different way. I remind myselfthat they're here to help, to be cooperative. That making me relive whatjust happened in words is helping me. So I continue.

The police ask the paramedics to stay with us as we walk to theprecise, terrible...