"Who's up for an adventure?" Gregory asked one Saturday, a familiar twinkle in his eye.
The four of us—me, Azhar, Samuel, and Doretha—all looked up from our coffee. "I'm always up for an adventure," Doretha chirped.
"A DXpedition," Gregory announced. "The 'State Parks on the Air' event is next month. I was thinking we could activate Eagle's Peak."
The name landed in the room like a stone. The air was sucked out of my lungs. Eagle's Peak. The place. I hadn't been back. I couldn't even look at pictures from that part of the state.
The others were buzzing with excitement. "Great elevation!" Samuel said, already thinking technically. "We could work the whole state on VHF!"
Doretha noticed my silence. "Haru? You okay?"
Everyone looked at me. The heat rose in my face. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to say no, anywhere but there. But this hobby, this entire journey, had been about one thing: fighting back against the helpless silence of that day. Running from the place where it happened felt like a retreat. It felt like a failure.
"No, it's a good idea," I heard myself say, my voice a thin, reedy version of my own. "Let's do it."
The planning was a welcome distraction from my anxiety. We had to be completely self-sufficient. We planned to use a low-power radio running off a big marine battery. Samuel designed and built a lightweight vertical antenna we could carry in backpacks. We were a team with a mission.
The morning of the event, my stomach was a churning mess of dread. Driving up the winding mountain road, every turn was a ghost. At the trailhead, I almost couldn't get out of the car. But my friends were there, not pitying me, but just being normal, handing me a backpack with the radio inside, treating me like a capable member of the team. Their calm purpose was my anchor.
We hiked to the summit. The view was just as beautiful, just as vast as my Doretha had said it would be. But this time, I had brought the tools to conquer it.
We set up our station with practiced efficiency. The antenna went up, the radio was connected, the logging laptop booted. Our little battery-powered outpost was ready.
Gregory looked at me. "First honors, Haruka. You make the first call."
My hand trembled as I took the mic. My gaze drifted across the valley to the other ridge, the place of my nightmares. Then I looked at my friends, at the antenna pointing defiantly at the sky. This wasn't about erasing that memory. It was about writing a new one over it.
My voice was steady and clear when I spoke. "CQ Parks on the Air, this is 9W8ABC, operating portable from Eagle's Peak State Park."
The response was immediate. A flood of calls came back. Then another, and another. We had a pileup. But this time, I wasn't the one trying to break through. I was the one they were all calling. I was the DX.
We spent the day on that summit, talking to the world. We were a beacon. At one point, I took a break and walked to the edge, looking out at the silent, beautiful world. It wasn't silent anymore. In my ears, I could hear the happy chatter of the radio, the sound of connection, the sound of my own voice, strong and confident, broadcasting from the very heart of my trauma. I wasn't a victim on this mountain. I was a victor.