My name is Dave Richards, I'm 24 years old, and I live in Hollywood. My life wasn't going all that well. Six weeks ago, I had found out that my girlfriend of 3 years was cheating on me; just two weeks ago, I had been fired from my job at a big film studio because my boss had threatened to accuse me of rape if I didn't vacate my position for her sister. Things weren't going well at all, and I was stuck, sad and alone, at home. Thank God the apartment back in my hometown was still making me money in rent every month, otherwise I would've probably been on the street by now.

On this particular evening, I was, as usual, at home by myself, but I had gotten so bored and tired of my sulking that I decided I'd go out. So I got dressed and headed down to the club which was just down the road from where I lived. Luckily, there was no closed events going on that night, so I got in without any issues.

I got in and was having a fairly normal night, catching a drink here and there and even dancing a bit to some of the songs – some because good ones were rare – but then I saw something that disconcerted me somewhat. A man dragged a blonde girl somewhat roughly towards the back of the club. I got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was off about the way he was handling her. I began moving towards them, shocked at how oblivious everyone around was. By the time I reached where they were, in the bathroom, he had pressed her against the wall, not bothering to go into a toilet stall, and was fumbling with her dress. I didn't even look at her, but I heard her protesting against his "advances", which he reacted to by raising his fist...

I lunged into him from the side and pushed him off of her. She collapsed on the floor, but I didn't have any time to go over to her. "Call the police!" - I shouted at her and then ducked the punch he threw at me. We brawled for a little while, until I managed to overpower him and press him to the same wall against which he had just been attempting to commit sexual assault. Soon enough, the police came, asked me and her about what had happened, thanked me, told me they'd contact me when the court hearing was scheduled, and took him away. While talking to her, they mentioned her name, which I thought was familiar. Then I finally looked at her for the first time...oh my God, it was Chloë Grace Moretz! I approached her, trying to act normal. "Are you okay?" - I asked her. She tried to say something, but collapsed forward onto me. I did well not to fall over myself, holding her up. "He was the one who gave me a lift here. I have no way of getting home. My phone died an hour ago." - she said slowly into my shoulder. "I have a charger at home, you should get some sleep and a rest from all this" - I told her. "Okay..." - she said, before I felt her fall asleep on me. I covered her face with my baggy hoodie so she wouldn't be recognized, picked her up in my arms and made it outside through the commotion of the crowd. I carried her outside, and then up the street home. I only had one bed, but I had no intention of doing or even making her think I did the thing I'd saved her from. So I took a couple of pillows from my couch and put them on the floor on the opposite side of my bedroom to the bed. I gently took her shoes off, placed them next to the bed, took her phone from the pocket of her jacket and delicately lowered her into my bed. I plugged her phone in next to the bed, then settled down on the floor and soon went to sleep.