"He won't stop raping me. He told me not to tell anyone."

In August 2011, teen-focused social change organization DoSomething.org received this startling text message. It wasn't rare for the nonprofit to receive replies unrelated to the social causes it highlighted through its mobile platform — teens often looked to talk about issues such as bullying, questioning sexuality and substance abuse. But this text's raw honesty was particularly jarring.

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After one of DoSomething's digital engagement managers hesitated to answer, another message came through from the same number about an hour later: "R U there?"

The manager then texted back, asking the texter who was assaulting her. She responded the following day: "It's my dad."

It's been almost five years since that text, and former DoSomething.org CEO Nancy Lublin still hasn't heard from the girl, though she's tried several times to contact her. But the message created a sense of urgency in Lublin, calling her to act.

“We realized with that message that it was time to create counseling based around texting. So we built it.”

"We realized with that message that it was time to create counseling based around texting," Lublin said. "So we built it."

That text was the catalyst for Crisis Text Line, a mental health-based text messaging support line geared toward teens in the U.S., founded in August 2013. Over the past three years, users of the text line have exchanged nearly 7.5 million text messages with volunteer Crisis Text Line counselors.

Now independent from DoSomething (though Lublin calls the two organizations the "best of friends") the line has started a mental health movement based around a medium of communication teens can get comfortable with — text.

"We get a lot of people in the heat of the moment, when they are about to get really angry, or they're about to have a panic attack, or they're about to have a bulimic episode," Lublin says.

A Crisis Text Line counselor's goal is to move a texter from that "hot moment" to a "cool moment." And every day the stakes are high. Lublin says the line performs an estimated eight "live rescues" per day, in which counselors call EMTs or police to intervene in a potentially life-threatening situation, such as suicide ideation.

It's these intimate conversations and demanding moments that make for a different type of volunteering experience for counselors.

"This is not like painting the side of a school. This is contact with another person who is in pain," Lublin says.

When a texter messages Crisis Text Line, they're greeted with a simple prompt from an automated algorithmic system: "We're here for you. Tell me more about what's going on..."

Image: Crisis Text Line

"We want to try to get the texter to tell us what's happening so the algorithm can read the severity," Lublin says. "If a texter says something like, 'I want to die' or 'I want to kill myself,' we make them No. 1 in the queue."

The algorithm makes the line operate like a hospital: The most critical patients are seen first by a crisis counselor. Crisis Text Line volunteers "text" via an encrypted, secure site on their personal computers — so secure, in fact, that counselors don't even see the mobile numbers of those they're helping.

And there are even more intensive privacy measures in place for texters concerned about their anonymity.

"Anyone can be scrubbed from our system just by texting in the word 'loofah' — and then we scrub you," Lublin says. She admits "loofah" can be a difficult words for teens to spell correctly, so variations — like "lufah" — work, too.

But "loofah"-ing yourself is more of a technicality than a necessity when using Crisis Text Line. Even with phone numbers saved in the depths of the Crisis Text Line system, there's no other identifying information connected to those numbers or made available to counselors.

“This is not like painting the side of a school. This is contact with another person who is in pain.”

“We have a special relationship with all the major mobile carriers, where you aren't charged a fee, we aren't charged a fee and it doesn't even show up on your bill," Lublin said. "It's like you never even texted us."

Lublin says texting is the perfect medium for anonymity, despite popular opinion that tech can never afford true privacy. The main reason? It's a way of communication that doesn't require speech. You can confess your deepest secrets while sitting in a room full of people — and they'd have no clue.

"We tend to get a lot of texts every day around lunchtime," Lublin says. "People are sitting in a cafeteria or a Starbucks and you think they are texting their mom. But they are actually texting us."

The history of on-demand crisis counseling is tied to the evolution of tech. First, it was solely telephone-based hotlines, through which those in crisis could call in for help. With the popularization of instant messaging, mental health organizations started adding chat features to their websites with live support.

The next logical step for a connected generation of teens is text. Nearly 75% of U.S. teens own or have access to a smartphone, with only 12% of 13- to 17-year-old teens reporting they don't have access to a phone of any type. Of those teens who are connected, about 90% text.

Finally decided to check out @CrisisTextLine , it's honestly very helpful and the counselors are amazing. pic.twitter.com/bA2IdVmRhm — | Cody - Mathias / (@swltrash) March 29, 2016

Even with Crisis Text Line's success by capitalizing on texting, Lublin says older models aren't losing their staying power.

"I don't think [hotlines or instant messaging support] are ever going away — and they shouldn't," she says. "When it's possible to do crisis intervention by Tupac hologram or crisis intervention by Oculus Rift, it should all be made available. People are very divergent in their needs, and there should be a plethora of options to get help."

But, for Lublin, there's something special about texting. It's familiar, she says — people know they have limited space and already expect a delay in response.

"People are sitting in a cafeteria or a Starbucks and you think they are texting their mom. But they are actually texting us."

"What's really great about this is that, unlike phones, we don’t get the word 'um,'" she says. "We don't get repetition. We don't get hyperventilating or crying. There are no interruptions. It's incredibly effective for counseling because what we do get is facts."

And those facts help to create a "juicy corpus," Lublin adds. Anonymous data collected through text conversations is available to the public through a sister effort called Crisis Trends, which tracks mental health trends that help inform the public, policy leaders and the nonprofit itself.

"We use the data in two ways: to make us faster and more accurate, and to, hopefully, make the country better," Lublin says.

Because of this data, Crisis Text Line knows that text counseling appeals to teens and young adults. About 65% of Crisis Text Line texters mention "school" as their location. While that’s not entirely surprising, an unexpected 35% of texters are estimated to be older than the line's target teen audience. In fact, 10% of Crisis Text Line texters are middle-aged men.

"That's really exciting, because [middle-aged men] are most at risk for depression and suicide,” Lublin says. "But they are least likely to seek out help."

Although mental health is the main focus, Lublin hesitates to make it the sole aspect of Crisis Text Line's story. First and foremost, she says, Crisis Text Line is about innovation — with data and startup roots taking center stage.

"We think of ourselves as a tech startup first and a mental health organization second," she says. "When it comes to volunteers, we love people who think of themselves as tech innovators first and volunteers second."

Right now, the line has 1,500 volunteer counselors across the country. Crisis counselors complete 35 hours of intensive mental health training — created and facilitated by Crisis Text Line trainers — including online modules, quizzes and role plays. Lublin says about 39% of those who apply to be a counselor are accepted and complete the training.

"If you're introverted, this is a really great way to volunteer," she says. "This doesn't require your voice. You can do it at home in your jammies. And you're going to save lives."

Mom says I'm the best side kick around during her @crisistextline shift! Sorry I fell asleep 🐾🐾💤💤💤 #cavapoo #crisistextline #puppylife #coffee A photo posted by Jammie (@jammiethedog) on Jan 9, 2016 at 5:38am PST

Allen Wang, a 19-year-old counselor who just completed his sophomore year at Iowa State University, has been a volunteer with Crisis Text Line since August 2015. As a student, Wang isn't pursuing mental health as a career path. His studies, to Lublin's point, are more tech-based — aerospace engineering and economics.

"That's how I know I'm doing this because it matters to me, not because I want to push forward a career or whatever," Wang tells Mashable.

Not only is Wang a counselor, but he also knows what it's like to be on the other end of the conversation. His first interaction with Crisis Text Line was when he was in crisis himself. In May 2015, he was fighting through a period of depression; after finding Crisis Text Line's number on Reddit, he decided to reach out.

"There was this girl I was really into, but it wasn’t going to happen," he says. "I was feeling really bummed out after a really hard semester. It was just me sharing what was going on. It felt good to be able to do that."

“If you're introverted, this is a really great way to volunteer ... And you're going to save lives.”

Now as a counselor, Wang has about five or six conversations with texters in crisis per every four-hour shift, each one lasting about 45 minutes to an hour. Most days, he's talking to texters who are being bullied or having difficulty with self-image. But, once in a while, he does talk to an actively suicidal texter.

Out of 160 conversations in his time with Crisis Text Line, he estimates three or four have ended in police involvement due to suicidal ideation.

A few months ago, Wang was connected to a girl who was actively cutting herself while texting the line. She told Wang she didn’t want any help. What she wanted, she said, was to die.

Wang told his supervisor, who ended up contacting the police. Using the signal from her cellphone, the authorities were able to pinpoint her location.

"When they got there, she texted me back saying, 'What the...?!'" Wang says, trailing off. "She cursed me out, asking why the police were there, and just shot me texts of quite a few obscenities."

He sighs heavily, his voice quiet. "I knew we did the right thing, but that one really sticks with me," he says.

The emotional weight of being a counselor is one of the biggest obstacles of the job. Burnout from high stress and pressure is something Wang has struggled with, along with the obligation to stop communicating with a person in crisis after a single, intense conversation.

"In some cases, you are the only person they have ever told these things to. It was really hard when I first started to just walk away from that."

"You heard from the very depths of these individuals," he says. "Their deepest, darkest secrets — hopes, dreams, fears, terrible things that have happened to them. In some cases, you are the only person they have ever told these things to. It was really hard when I first started to just walk away from that — to just let go and move on.”

But being a crisis counselor has given him a "crash course in letting go." If he couldn’t, he says, it would be too much of a burden.

"It's a really good skill to have in life — to just move on from something,” he says.

Lublin, however, can’t move on from the text that started it all.

The girl who texted DoSomething about her sexually abusive father is still on Lublin’s mind — and she has been for five years.

Lublin talks about her a lot — in speeches, interviews, daily life — hoping that even if she never speaks directly to her, the girl will find out what her bravery and honesty helped to create.

"I want her to know that her courage inspired this whole thing. Thanks to her, we are saving a lot of other people," Lublin says.

"She started all of this."

To learn more about Crisis Text Line or to apply to be a crisis counselor, visit here.

If you want to talk to someone or are experiencing suicidal thoughts, text the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. For international resources, this list is a good place to start.

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