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“Love you too, Mama.” She couldn’t hear me, but I vowed, “I’m gonna make him pay one day, I promise.”
* * *
Paris
14 years old.
That same night…
“Want another?”
I turned my head to the left and saw jeans, then tilted it back to see Tad holding out a bottle of beer. “Thanks.”
He took my empty, gosh, it was probably my sixth… seventh, maybe, then he chucked it into the bonfire. He sat on the log next to me and downed a swig of beer before handing me the bottle. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, apparently.”
“You’re just a freshman, Paris. You shouldn’t be here.”
“So are you.”
He scoffed. “I’m a man. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re just a little boy.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” he snapped.
That was me. A bitch. I wasn’t always, though. Not until I made a mistake so big that I should still be in jail. Not until Daddy Dearest found out and cleaned up my mess, then forced me to keep it a secret. I hadn’t even gotten my period yet, and I was supposed to know how to deal with harboring the effects of what was essentially criminal behavior. The confusion and guilt and shame ate away at me until nothing good was left. That was when things changed.
I changed.
If you were in my shoes, you’d change, too.
I didn’t need to justify myself to him, though. “I didn’t ask you to sit by me, so if you don’t like how I am, just leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why?”
He scooted closer and pulled the strap of my tank top down, then brushed my hair over my shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine in the dim light. I felt a strange tingling in my stomach. “Because I like the way you are.” He wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck and pulled me closer to him, then angled his head and kissed me.
I’d never been kissed before, and it was exciting, but it scared me. I knew Tad. Our fathers played golf together, and we’d been to each other’s houses a bunch of times. We were in the same grade, so we’d gone to school our whole lives but weren’t really friends. I felt like he understood me in a way, though, because our lives were kind of the same.
And now he was acting like he wanted to be more than friends, and I didn’t know what to do. I put my hand on his chest and pushed back, separating us. “Stop.”
He wrapped his fingers around mine and brought them between his legs. I felt something hard and tried to pull away, but he was holding on tight so I couldn’t. “I’m not going to force you, Paris, don’t be scared.”
“You’re kind of freaking me out.”
“Don’t you want to see what it feels like?”
I yanked myself free and jumped to my feet. “Are you talking about… sex?”
He looked around as he stood, then grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the crowd that consisted mostly of seniors. “Quiet,” he hissed. “Yes, I’m talking about sex.” He pushed me against a tree then had his body pressed against mine. “Let’s try. If you don’t want to go all the way, we can just touch each other.”
“I don’t want to touch that.” I scrunched my nose when he ground his penis against me, but when he did it again, I felt that tingle again, but it went lower to between my legs.
He smirked. “See. That feels good, doesn’t it?”
