Friday, December 6, 2013

I wish for a way to say this beautifully.

I was 16.
He was 45.
I was in a chatroom.
So was he.
My mother slept.
He picked me up.
He gave me a drink, started to kiss me.
Please take me home now.
I'll take you home after you do what you came here to do.
It's a school night. My mother might wake up. Please.
I'm not taking you home yet. I promise to take you home after we have sex.
I don't want to. I want to go home.
Not until we have sex.
He came fast. He refused to take me home until the next morning.
I had just enough time to get ready for school.
My mother never noticed I was gone.
I told noone because I had a serious boyfriend.
I didnt know his name.
I didn't know I'd been raped.
I wish for a way to say this beautifully.

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