When I first started therapy in Florida, my therapist gave me the idea of journaling. I started a journal and wrote in it for a few months, but eventually, it died off. Most of my entries lacked the topic of the incident—the reason why I was in therapy in the first place—but were about Mr. Russ and my friends in Florida. Though, I suppose they were an escape for me in themselves.

With my friends in Florida, I was an actress, pretending that Harrison never did what he had done. With them, I was an entirely different person. With Mr. Russ, I was an entirely different person also. I became...