I was not a popular girl, I was not a loser. I wasn't especially pretty, I wasn't ugly... to be honest I wasn't much of anything. Looking in my high school yearbook it's pretty obvious. There is only one picture of me in it. Turn to page 94 and there I am, tucked away among the thousand other smiling faces with philosophical quotes underneath. 1
Absently I turn the pages one after another, seeking some sort of scrap memory to pull everything together. What was your schooling like?? Damned if I remembered. I suppose my answer would be nothing. Absolutely nothingness. 2
There is nothing about school I truely want to remember. No lunches with friends, no dates, no letters, nothing. In fact, if i could forget all of it forever, trust me I would. If I could forget his face, trust me I would. God knows I've spent the past seven years trying to forgive. God knows I can't. 3
*** 4
My favorite food was jelly sandwiches, I loved the Backstreet Boys and their peppy pop tunes. My room was loving adorned with the trademarks of young innocence, hopes and dreams. My walls were littered with posters of my childhood celebrity crushes, hearts, and construction paper stars. My biggest worry at the time was missing my favorite television show. 5
See my mother had warned me about all sorts of life's complications. Every night it was a new lecture. 6
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"A Mui-ah" She would say in her solid Cantonese. "You must learn, not all people are nice in the world. You are young girl, must be aware. Must be safe. Do not make regrets for yourself." At the time it sounded like fortune cookie advice. I was young, I was relentless, in my eyes, I was invincible. 8
*** 9
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His name was Matt. My parents didn't mind him. He was Chinese boy, I was a Chinese girl... my brother refuses to date Chinese women, I was their last hope. He wasn't a bad boy, he wasn't a good boy. He wasn't ugly and he wasn't quite cute. There was nothing especially striking about him. He was fourteen at the time, about 5'7 a little husky, not what I would call built. Dark hair, dark eyes all brown all plain, all boring. 11
To this day I don't know what drew me to him, perhaps that he was like me and I thought I had come across a kindred spirit of sorts. However, I soon found out that our shared "plainess" was where our similarities ended. He was a poor student, a poor listener, always putting his needs above mine... oh the list could go on and on. But he said he loved me. 12
And I believed him. 13
Winter in all of its mother nature fury had just given way to Spring. I had just turned 13, on that very day to be exact. I was just a little girl with her hair blowing wildly into the wind, shrieking at spiders and giggling at all sorts of silliness. We were walking to his house to spend our afternoon lazily watching television and playing Spiral on Playstation. Sure we did the stuff that you used to read about in those strange "forbidden novels." Childish games of body exploring. It didn't seem right to me, but he insisted. I love you. 14
He had been gentle at first, stopping whenever I got too scared or too embarassed. But as we spent more time together, as days became weeks which became months... He was less willing to back down. During one of our "makeout sessions" he started up again. 15
We were just figuring out how to kiss at the time. It was so sad. Everytime our lips touched there was just nervousness on my part, and teeth clanging on his. He didn't seem to understand that I did not like to be sucked in. He had started gently enough, running his fingers up and down my arms, pulling off my denim jacket. 16
".. this isn't right" I had whispered, hoping he would just stop it. i was wrong, he kept persisting instead. 17
"...relax. it's nothing I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispered back lips grazing my neck ever so slightly. I relaxed. Of course, how could I not? he says he loves me, of course he'll take care of me. He wouldn't let me do anything that's bad for me... right? 18
But it still didn't seem right. 19
"baby, chill out. I'm scared. stop it ok?" I said shaking. Thinking back on it now, I'm sure I was shaking in fear. I think he though I was shaking in desire. 20
"What are you talking about?" He whispered in my ear, his hands still exploring whatever skin was exposed. "look, you're not scared, you're just pretending, relax, enjoy it." He said playing with the strap of my favorite white tanktop. He moved it a little and started to kiss my shoulders lightly. I shuddered to the light pressure of his mouth on my bare skin. But I was still scared. 21
"Seriously, you're not funny." I said half crying. What was I supposed to do? 22
"Oh come on, you like it. Besides, you say you love me too. If you really loved me then you wouldn't mind." 23
Oh. Ok. I guess. This is love right? right? What if my mom finds out? What if-- 24
I felt his lips move lower, hovering on my collarbone. NO! 25
His lips moved lower.. NO 26
Lower.. NO! 27
Lower.. NO!! 28
And at last, he had moved my straps off of my shoulder, had pulled down my tanktop, ignored my tears and had his face buried in my then-still developing breasts. I felt his tounge on my bare flesh, his teeth on my tender nipples and at the same time, felt a tear drop. This wasn't right. Didn't feel right and yet it's already gone too far too fast. 29
Trying to hold back a sob I began to shake again, feeling tears not just fall, but stream down my face. I'm so ashamed, my face burns. How am I ever going to tell anyone? I can't. They'll call me a slut. Mom will kill me, no one will talk to me. 30
Still, my childish mind held onto this word love and his sentence "If you loved me you would do it" so I did. I didn't tell him to stop, I just kept crying. Praying that someone would open the door, or he would notice how scared I was and just stop. 31
But he didn't. 32
Instead he pulled my then-favorite tank top over my head (it was burned later to ashes) and lifted my then-favorite jean skirt (which was also burned later to ashes). Instead he kept kissing me, kept touching me, kept saying don't worry, don't worry. Instead of stopping him, I let him. 33
Instead I let him dip his toungue in my folds, let his fingers explore my virgin cavity. Instead I let him explore places I never wanted to acknowledge. Places meant to be kept private. 34
Instead I lowered my head upon his shaft. I coaxed cries of pleasure from his still boyish vocal chords. Watched as ectasy washed over his face. I felt his bitterness slide down my toungue and down my throat. I felt my tears fall to my lips and mingle with his taste. 35
I told myself this is for love. As I let him slide into me, as I felt him continuing to slide in and out of him. Watched as his face relaxed, went from his boyish smirks to pleasure. My tears continued to stream, my eyes were getting puffy. 36
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He never looked down at me, not even when my tears turned to full blown sobs. 38
Within minutes it was over, and he pulled out and I watched in confusion as he emptied his load all over my stomach. Gingerly he reached over and grabbed a t-shirt to wipe me off. He had a smile on his face. 39
I curled up into a tiny ball and just cried. He didn't bother to ask what was wrong. All he did was walk out of the room and tell his mom that I was ready to go home now. And of course, to ask if she minded giving me a ride. Of course she didn't. She never minded giving me a ride. 40
"She's such a nice, sweet girl" I heard her say distantly. 41
Yet all I felt, was dirty, unclean. All I heard in my dreams that night were my parents calling me a slut, and his words I love you, don't you love me too? If you really loved me then you wouldn't mind. In my dreams I still felt his phantom touch, still tasted my own tears. 42
Happy Thirteenth Birthday to Me. 43
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