My story in short: Three years ago, I was kidnapped and held captive in a room for a year plus. The man that kidnapped me raped me many times and I became pregnant, which was the main thing he wanted as he told me. The whole time, the man allowed me to write my husband. However, he constantly threatened to kill him. He also would threaten to not let me receive his letters unless I followed the rules of what to tell him. I am here today, because of my husband and family who were able to find me. I had the baby and kept him. I struggled very much in the beginning, because I could see the man's face in my son. There were times that I had terrible feelings and images in my mind of hurting my son, although I knew I loved him and would never want to hurt him. I went through the feelings of extreme anger and feeling violent, occasionally acting on those feelings. I was so afraid, I couldn't leave the house. Every little thing that reminded me of the trauma sent me into panic. I did file a report a year ago, but I couldn't go further than that. The police could not find the man since he is undocumented. I want him put away, not for justice, but so that I can feel safe. The whole time I was pregnant, the man stalked me and threatened me. When my son was 6 months old, he tried to kidnap him. I told him I have a protective order and I haven't heard from him since. I feel that I am not in immediate danger anymore, but I know he's free somewhere and hurting the other girl he had there, whom is underage. I had told my story enough times. I was always so angry, until I saw a therapist a few times when I went out-of-state to visit my mom. Since October, I started avoiding everything to do with the trauma. My husband and I call our son my husband's to make it easier for me to deal with. I do love my son now more than anything. He is first in my life and I have never let anyone watch him for more than an hour, because I can't trust anyone with him. I know what people can do to kids. Since I started avoiding, I have been pretty much avoiding my whole life, because there are so many little things that can remind you of what happened to you. I thought that not talking about it would be okay. I thought not working though everything would be okay, and I didn't understand why people said I had too. It makes me panicky and angry to think about it. I don't want to be afraid anymore, so I deny my feelings and what happened. I wish it could just be erased from my life. However, I feel like I'm not living my life. I can go through a whole day without knowing what I really did. When I go to bed, I feel I just woke up. I don't understand why I have to deal with the past to live in the present.