Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma

Sometimes it was difficult to tell which twists and turns in their lives were connected to the rape and which weren't.

But no one had ever shattered bottles outside their home before.

It went on for weeks — always at night, in the dark. Laura's family awoke day after day to find jagged pieces of glass in their driveway.

They took turns cleaning up, and Laura's mother remembers her younger son's offhanded comment one day: "I cleaned up the glass out of the driveway."

Like it was just another chore.

They remember the first time the glass-breakers were "brave" enough to drive by in the daylight.

Laura was in her bedroom, her mother at the kitchen sink and her father in the side yard.

They heard the glass smash and a car driving away.

And they each rushed toward the noise — Laura to her window, her mother to the front door and her father toward the road. Each thought maybe they'd be the one to find out who it was.

Laura's father, already outside, got the best view.

He recognized the car. He looked into the eyes of the teenage boys, and he knew those faces.

He memorized the license plate. And then he ran a check on it, to be sure.

That was the last time glass shattered in their driveway.

When her father recounts the story months later, Laura and her mother are incredulous.

"Why didn't you tell me who it was?" Laura demands.

"It doesn't matter," he replies. They didn't need to know.

* * * * * *

Laura's parents came to realize that the daughter they had known was gone.

"I actually mourned for her like she was dead," her mother says. "And then learned to accept the new Laura."

But she always hoped the "old Laura" would come back.

The old Laura had so many dreams and plans — the possibilities seemed endless.

She thought about being a teacher, doing art, maybe becoming an art teacher, getting married, being a foster mom, having "tons of kids" and a big house.

"And a big wedding," her mother remembers with a sigh.

Now Laura had lost sight of her future. She no longer had a clue what the world held for her.

The old Laura was "blindly trusting," her father remembers, and a loyal friend who would stick up for you no matter what.

But no one does that for her any more. So why should she do it for them?