Anonymous RA blogger decides to tell the story of what really happened the previous year In Corbin Residence Hall. Not wanting a tragedy to be the only thing that defined them. It all starts with their boss.
Landon's new life should erase his past...
Last year, someone tried to kill me. Every detail leading up to that day plays over and over again in my head. I'll never forget it—and I'm not the only one.
At times, my friends and I will sit in the dining hall goofing off, and then a memory from last year visits us out of nowhere. There's an eerie silence, the kind that's born when you've seen something so terrible that just thinking about it causes your heart to crumble.
In that one moment, looking in their eyes, I can tell we're all thinking about the same thing. But that thought doesn't fill our conversation; instead we just divert to talking about VBU football or another escape-your-problems topic. I'm not sure why this happens.
Right now, I'm sitting in my room on campus looking at the moon, which tonight looks like a flashlight, and it dawns on me the reason my friends don't ask. Maybe, like me, they're scared that year is only going to be defined by that one event. I have to prove to myself that it isn't. So I'm going to tell our story, because not everyone lived to tell it.
Oops! Această imagine nu respectă Ghidul de Conținut. Pentru a continua publicarea, te rugăm să înlături imaginea sau să încarci o altă imagine.
I found a picture from last year's summer training. On the first day our Hall Director (HD), Landon Merritt, wrote our names on this gigantic whiteboard. He asked us: "If you could be a super hero, who would you be?" Here's what we put, and looking at this now, I should have chosen differently.
Then Landon said something about first responders being like heroes and that's how he saw us.
We also tried to make Landon pick one, but he wouldn't. Hall Directors are like coaches, though. They decide the plays and they challenge and support us and all that. Most importantly, they're the ones that believe we can do this job. I'm glad he chose us to experience that year together, no matter how it ended.
That's why it makes sense to start with him. But I head-hop, so watch out for these: #It means I'm going into the head of another staffer, sometimes my own.
Oh, and one more thing: this blog is private. There's one RA rule I'm about to shatter into pieces, then grind into dust. I face expulsion or worse if I get caught breaking it. You see, universities are really big into this confidentiality thing—there's even a law about it called FERPA (Family Educational Rights to Privacy Act). I don't get it. Privacy died.
I'm going to tell you everything that happened last year, fall semester then spring. My role in the story won't be obvious at first; I need to protect my identity in case upper administration finds out. Afterwards I'm removing this site for good. I'd rather go to jail then get kicked out of VBU.
I love this place... I don't fit in anywhere else.
By the end you'll know why I chose you to listen—really, it was you that heard me first.
