According to "When Men Murder Women: An Analysis of 2006 Homicide Data" released recently by the Violence Policy Center in Washington, DC, South Carolina ranks #2 in the nation for the number of women killed by men. South Carolina was ranked #7 in the nation according to the previous Violence Policy Center report. This announcement coincides with the beginning of Domestic Violence Awareness Month in the United States, which is recognized in October.

This report is based on information obtained from the most recent Supplementary Homicide Report (SHI) data submitted to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). The numbers for 2006 are the most recent statistics available, and the ranking is calculated according to the homicide rate per 100,000 people in the state.

Sixty three females were murdered by males in South Carolina in 2006, a total of 2.84 per 100,000. Seven of the female homicide victims were 65 years of age or older, and the average homicide victim age was 41 years old. Of these victims, one was of Asian or Pacific Island descent, 31 were black, and 31 were white.

For those homicides in which the victim to offender relationship could be identified, 98% of reported homicides (57 out of 58) were murdered by someone they knew. Of the homicide victims who knew their offenders, 63% (36 victims) were wives, common- law wives, ex- wives, or girlfriends of the offenders.

For more information about the Violence Policy Center Report and Domestic Violence Awareness Month activities throughout South Carolina, please contact Rebecca Williams, Communications Coordinator for the South Carolina Coalition Against Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault at 803-256-2900, ext. 101.

This story was submitted by Sexual Trauma Services of the Midlands (STSM). It is a true story written by a sexual assault survivor. STSM, formerly Rape Crisis Network, has served sexual assault surv ivors and their family members in Richland, Lexington, and Newberry Counties for 25 years. They will host an anniversary gala Tuesday, October 28, at 7 pm at The Hall at Canal & Senate, 320 Senate Street. The event honors the courage of survivors of sexual assault and sexual abuse and recognizes the agency's supporters, volunteers, and community leaders who have shared in the agency's 25 year commitment to end sexual violence. Mr. Reginald Lloyd, director of SC Law Enforcement Division and former U.S. Attorney for SC will be the guest speaker. Tickets are $50 and include heavy hors d'ouvres, drinks, dancing, and a live auction. Call 803-790-8208 or visit www.stsm.org.

The moon reflects off the drops of dew on the blades of grass across the moonlit field. It's so dark and quiet, except for the moonlight and his breathing.

The cold hood of the car pierces my cheek, and I know I am crying, but I'm not sure why. Now, on the ground with my bareness exposed to the wet and cold.

Crying again, but why? He is yelling obscenities; I think they are at me. He drags me into the car. Sitting inside I'm crying. He tells me to "shut up." And I feel silly because I can't really remember why I was crying anyway.

At an apartment door, he tells me to "get out" and drives away. I lay down on the tile hallway and sleep. My friends wake me with questions about the night before: Where had I been? Why did I leave the bar? Who was I with? But I didn't know the answers, and I was scared.

In my pocket was a name and phone number scribbled on a sheet of torn notebook paper - his calling card. By 9 am I am drinking hot vodka in the car on the way back to my hometown - anything to forget the darkness that loomed on the edge of my memory.

In my heart, I knew something had gone very wrong the night before, but self- blame had already set in. Wasn't I the one who had been drinking all night? Hadn't I left my friends to talk to the cute guy with the English accent? Hadn't I let him buy me drinks? Hadn't I misled him with my overt flirtations? That self- blame became my best friend from that day forward and was joined quickly by its buddies self- loathing, depression, and denial.

Nine years later I am sitting in a training session to become a volunteer advocate for Sexual Trauma Services of the Midlands. The current speaker is lecturing on the facts of GHB ("the date rape drug"), the effects of the drug on the human body, and the memory blanks that accompany assaults under the influence of mind- altering substances such as GHB. I feel warm tears rolling in spades down my face. Everything she describes is about me. For the first time I knew the truth about my rape: it wasn't my fault, and I wasn't alone. The healing had begun.

The physical scars - the ripped underwear, grassstained clothes, and the calling card - are long gone, but I will carry the invisible wounds of that night with me to the grave. It will affect me always in my relationships, especially my marriage, in my career, and in my love of self. But I now can call myself a Survivor in the truest sense of the word.