Way back in the early 90s, I was sent to a camp styled after old school day camps. It had archery and swimming and crafts, along with a vaguely native American sounding name.

The second summer I attended, the camp had hired a counselor by the name of Mike. Mike had to be at least 20, if memory serves. He was handsome and boisterous and seemed to like being there but he did have a knack for saying wildly inappropriate things. For example, I have vague memories of being 6 or so and having him tell me over and over how hot my mom was and that he'd like to do things to her. My parents had just gone through a really rough divorce so my tiny brain could not compute anything Mike said in that regard.

But the absolute worst thing Mike did was nearly drown me. The camp grounds had a pool we got to swim in twice a day. I was in there with my age group and a few counselors just quietly swimming and enjoying myself. I decided it would be neat to see how long I could hold my breath under water. After having my head down there for about what I could handle, I tried to surface. A hand shoved me back down. I tried again and the same thing happened. Again, and my lungs were burning. I grabbed at the hand and arm but it wouldn't let me up. Finally I had the wherewithal to swim out of reach and surface. I looked back and saw Mike standing in the water doing the same thing to another kid. Have you ever tried to catch your breath while screaming and crying out of pure fear for your own life? Not great.