Music from misery, healing from horror: The story behind "Safe"

My latest single "Safe" will be released to all streaming platforms on October 24th, 2025—three years to the day since I was sexually assaulted.

I was sexually assaulted by my chiropractor when I was sixteen years old. I've written about it before, and as this post is about the art I made rather than the atrocities that inspired it, I won't get into the details.

What I will say is it took me a long time to put my thoughts into words. As long as I can remember, I've poured every deep emotion into my lyricism. My first crush, my first heartbreak—they're all timestamped in the archives of my "songs in progress" Notes folder.

But once it came to something deeper, something harder to wrap my head around, I came up blank. Suddenly I was feeling too much to simply brush off into a hymn.

The song that came to be "Safe" wasn't written until more than a year following my assault, but there were certainly earlier attempts. While combing through my Notes app, the earliest I can find is a single verse. Titled "Courage," the note was last updated October 28th, 2022—four days after I was molested. In the key of C minor, the lyrics go: "They say use your voice / And they tell me to be brave / They say have courage / 'Cause what else can they say / When the statue finally breaks."

...Not my strongest writing, not by any means. But truth be told, this short melody might encompass some of the realest lyrics I've ever penned—because the fact of the matter was I'd lost my voice. I'd gone still and silent under the hands of my assailant, and rediscovering my voice and thus my power after having it so casually ripped from me was anything but easy.

What you have to understand about my assault was that it became very public very quickly, both in my personal life and amidst the media. The community I spent most of my time in throughout high school consisted of several variants of people—some knew how to handle the situation, and some didn't. Some spoke of it freely, and some made it spectacle for themselves and their friends. Any healing I still needed to work through was oftentimes put on the back burner so I could consistently uphold sixteen-year-old Ariana's role as the constant butt of the joke (a subject of unpacking for a future blog post, I'm sure). Then of course, the public eye was quick to deem me a liar or a pawn after an old man's wealth. There were so many people speaking over me, and there were so many voices louder than my own.

Then comes into play the next valiant attempt at putting my thoughts into words. "Fully Grown," last edited on May 16th, 2023, begins with the question that I seemed to silently scream every day in my head. "Was I silent? / Or was I silenced?"

Too many people asked me why I didn't scream. Too many people asked me to retell the story. Too many people wonder why so few sexual assault victims come forward. I don't think those who choose to remain silent about their assaults are weak. I think they're amongst the strongest of us all because they're forced to carry their weight alone. Survivors are not powerless just because people attempt to take their power from them.

The chorus went on, "I lost my voice screaming / But only I could hear / I laid there and closed my eyes / Wished I'd disappear / When I finally spoke, I never felt so alone / I'm only sixteen, but to you I'm fully grown."

I think these words probably served a dual purpose: they spoke both to the chiropractor and to the hecklers in the aftermath. The people who accused the nameless sixteen-year-old girl of lying saw a money-hungry attention seeker rather than a scared, violated child whose first sexual contact was forced upon her by a man four times her elder.

It wasn't until nearly a year after that gray day in autumn that Ronald Bernardini finally pleaded guilty to Endangering the Welfare of a Child.

It wasn't until several weeks later that I finally felt the echoes of my voice ring in my ears once more.

On December 20th, 2023, I wrote "Safe" in one sitting.

"Safe" was the first of the attempts to be written in major, though it naturally keeps minor, melodramatic melodic principles at its core. "Safe" was written through the perspective of a younger Ariana with an older Ariana's knowledge that she would finally see justice.

In December of 2024, I recorded "Safe" while on winter break from my freshman year at the University of Miami's Frost School of Music. While "Safe" was mixed by the producers at Dream Recording Studios, I taught myself to master in order to ensure the final touches of the track were my own. This track comes from the realest place I could muster, and it set into motion my ability to write continuously and fluently about my assault in the years following. It fostered my promise to myself to use my voice for good, to uplift the voices of those who might otherwise be forced into submissive silence. It inspired Her Voice as a concept, and it encouraged my longest journalistic think-piece to date.

Once I realized that the three-year anniversary of my assault would fall on a Friday this year—the primary day for releases in the music industry—I knew without a doubt that this was the time to share "Safe" with the world.

Particularly when there's a rapist in office for the second time—there has never been a more important time for sexual assault survivors to shout than right now.

"Safe" encompasses some of my most metaphorical and intentional lyrics to date, and I hope they resonate with you all upon the track's release. In the meantime, I'll share an insight on the opening lyric:

"Fate wasn't on my side / I lose my faith but you still keep your pride."

Congratulations, sixteen-year-old Ariana. Considering he lost his chiropractic license and his good name, I'd say you've finally deprived him of his pride.

And with the release of "Safe" on October 24th, 2025, in addition to all the other ways you've made your voice heard since October 24th, 2022—I'd say you have several reasons to be proud of yourself.