His name was Eric. He was 17 too, the son of new neighbors in our downtown Ottawa condo highrise. His father was a diplomat and, with his mom, they’... just moved back to Canada after several years in the States. Washington and New York. He had one older sister, married and living in Manhattan. My mom sold them their place and we had them over for dinner as soon as they settled in. Being the only other available teen, I got “volunteered” to show him a good time. I did that, all right. And it’s. He reaches for my hood and I flinch back, He freezes for a moment before continuing, He pushes my hood back and I turn away from Him and look down to move my hair in between us. He gently grabs my chin and moves my face so that I am looking at Him. I look Him in the eye for all of a second, before I am trying to tug out of his grip. He lets me so that He can pull me close to Him again. I know He’s talking to me and trying to get me to respond, but I can’t. I can’t make my voice work, I can’t. Before I go to bed I take a shower, I keep looking at the door expecting you to come in and lead me to the bedroom at any second, I secretly hope you do, but you don’t, I get out and find two towels I wrap my hair up in one and wrap the other around my body and walk into your bedroom where I find my bag, you’re in the kitchen taking on the phone you tell me you’ll only be a bit but I tell you to take your time. I walk in and sit down on your bed wondering what I should put on, then I decide to. "Look," I said plaintively, "I don't want to be a Wendy head, but so far I've been jerked from pillar to post, told nothing, and I still don't even have a clue who I am. And from the sound of it, I don't think you have a clue, either."She sighed and sank to the rolling stool opposite me. "Okay. Look, yesterday you were found, naked and unconscious, on an unused catwalk in one of the high bays of the Vertical Assembly Building. With no idea who you were or how you got there, NASA security.