How I fought...without knowing what I was fighting for

It was my second semester of college. I was raw. My grandmother, who had lived with me from age 4 had passed on my brother's birthday, during winter break, the day after Christmas.

I craved connection. I craved home.

I had met Sam my first semester of college. He was my friend. We had people in common. Most importantly, people from my "real life". 

My people were important to me. My people were me. 

And the fact that he was connected to folks from my small community meant *everything*. 

We connected over these similarities. 

I do that with people. 

I am a sucker for nostalgia. 

One night, he did several lines of cocaine at a neighbor's house. He assaulted me a bit after. 

I didn't want to see him after that. 

That was smart of me. 

Unfortunately, he still wanted to engage with me. Because of his violence toward me, I had been avoiding him, despite his calls. 

I was summoned by mutual friends to help out with him in a time of distress, not a week later. 

I don't know why I agreed. 

It was not smart of me. 

When I arrived at the house, I was pointed to the room he was in. I'm still not sure why I approached, much less entered. He had said that he would speak only to me. 

I wanted to fix everything. 

I should have alerted law enforcement. 

I should never have gone there. 

But I was there. 

And I stepped into that room. And that was where I was. So, I dealt with it. 

I dealt with the fact that he had a loaded gun. 

I dealt with the fact that he wanted to end me or end him. 

I just talked to him. 

I talked to him about his family, and our mutual friends. 

I talked about things I knew he valued. 

I spoke to him of the things I sought and valued in my future. 

And, in time, he agreed to seek help from someone he trusted just enough. 

And we contacted that person via phone. And I went back to my dorm life. 

I never had contact with him again. 

I wish I could say that someone in that house had called the police while I navigated all this. 

But no one did. 

Perhaps they were as green as I was back then. 

Or perhaps they didn't care?

I never took legal action...for any of it. The previous assault, or the more resonating gun-to-my-head interaction. 

I was a kid. 

We all were kids. 

It is interesting, and sad, and devastating.

And confusing. 

And still, to this day, I hope he's okay. 

Still. 

I'm a sucker. 

And I believe that I'm okay.