I had wanted to save it. My virginity. I had wanted to save it so that on my wedding night I could give myself to my husband completely and utterly pure.
But he took it from me.
He stole it from me.
Why wouldn't he leave me alone? Why wouldn't he listen to me? I told him not to. I begged him not to! I cried out in protest until my voice was hoarse and he was gone. But it was too late. He came, and he went; like a thief he stole what was most valuable to me, the one thing I would never voluntarily give up even if my life was at stake.
No matter how many times I wash I cannot get the stench of his drunken breath out of my hair, nor the feel of his sweat off my back. The sound of his moans still haunt my nightmares, and the pain, the throbbing, pulsing pain inside of me is just now subsiding.
Every night I feel the same fear as I begin to run, and every night he catches me, every night he violates me and breaks into me once again, and every night he runs away as I wake up screaming.
I will never forget the look on my parents' faces when I got home, still half naked and bleeding, crying uncontrollably. There was shock, yes, and fear, and compassion, and anger, but there was also just a hint of disappointment, as if it was somehow my fault.
If only I hadn't flirted with him earlier. If only I hadn't of even decided to show up. If only I had been sterner with him, or fought more vigorously, or yelled louder, or called the police, or something, anything, If only I had done something differently then I would still have it. But I was a fool. Perhaps it was all my fault...
I don't want to tell anyone because everyone I do tell looks at me in that same way, makes me feel guilty and ashamed. I just want to scream at them, tell them that I couldn't have stopped him, that I couldn't have known he would do it. But I never do, because deep down inside I know their right. I gave it up to him. I gave him my virginity.
Wait! I know that's not true! Why does my mind torture me? Why does it let me blame myself? It was his fault. Man's fault. Those selfish, piggish beasts! They're all the same, all of them.
I cannot walk around town anymore without fear. I am secretly terrified of every man I meet. Compared to their strength I am helpless, utterly powerless. It wasn't even hard for him. Any one of them could at any moment do the exact same thing, and it wouldn't be hard for them either. And just like him, they would never feel remorse.
What I wouldn't give to go back, to change what happened, to put things back the way they were before my life broke to pieces, shattered beyond repair. Back to when the paper was clean and white before the brush stroke fell. But its too late. and I have to move on. There are decisions to be made, the most pressing being what to do with it.
I could get rid of it, once and for all. Then maybe life would go back to the way it was. Or I could keep it, in hopes of some good coming out of this evil... after all, it is my child...