Liz tried to push her way past her tormentors. She could see the light on the other side of the pier and thought if she could just get there, she would be safe. She almost got through them, too, but then one of the boys, who seemed to be their leader, grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

Terrified, she reached out and clawed his face. He looked at her with surprise and then rage. He lifted his hand, which held a piece of steel bar, and struck her on the side of the head. It felt as if someone set off a big firecracker inside her skull. There was a flash of white light accompanied by a searing red pain, and she sank to her knees.

"Fucking ho," the boy snarled and grabbed her by the hair. He began dragging her up the beach, farther into the shadows beneath the pier.

The pain of being pulled by her hair and her fear of what would happen in the dark brought Liz partly to her senses. She stuck the whistle in her mouth and blew as she lunged up, scratching for his eyes.

She saw fear in his eyes and even dared to hope that she might fight her way to freedom. But then someone kicked her in the back, crushing the wind out of her and sending her sprawling headfirst into the sand. She pushed herself back up on her hands and knees. Then another firecracker went off in her head.

The next thing she knew she had been turned over on her back and someone was yanking her shorts off. "No, please," she begged. She couldn't see out of her right eye and her left caught only a blur of images as her dazed mind tried to reject what was happening to her.

"Hold her," the first boy shouted. Hands grabbed her shoulders and legs, pinning her to the ground as he got between her legs. She felt him trying to penetrate her and willed her mind to some other place where the world was still safe and good. The sun shone on a field as her daughter ran toward her laughing and her husband looked on.