When I was 12 I had a huge crush on this guy who was 19 years old. I was a virgin and hadn’t even kissed a boy yet. I was at a sleep over at my friend Charles house and everyone was going to sleep. I was alone in the living room and he came in and walked towards me until I was backed against a wall. He started to kiss me which was so magical and amazing and all the things my young self wanted it to be. He then put a hand on my breast and the other hand on my down my pants quite quickly. I didn’t know what to do. I tried pulling his hand out and giggling nervously trying to be “cool” with the situation. He, after all had slept with many girls and I didn’t want to be a “not cool” whatever that fuck that meant. He pushed pass my hand and shoved quite aggressively a finger into me. It didn’t feel good at all and actually hurt a bit. He forcefully fingered me for what felt like an eternity and then took his hand out and unbuttoned his pants. I told him I didn’t want to have sex and he got mad and left the room. My young girl brain was so confused.

I couldn’t sleep that night because I felt like I was constantly on the verge of throwing up from nervousness. The next day in middle school I had so many girls come up to me saying they can’t believe I had sex with day (guys name). “I didn’t” I said confused, but no one believed me. I was called a whore and a slut and all the guys after that thought I was easy to get with and so they would try. He turned me into someone I was not. And made my life a living embarrassing uncomfortable hell.

I hated him so fucking much. I grew out of feeling embarrassed and I healed from that experience. A few months back I had a friend send me a news article and it was about him. He got into a car accident and got pinned inside the cab. The car caught fire and as the fire fighters tried to get him out he burned alive.

I’m not sure what I felt, a sense of sweet revenge, a guilt for feeling happy, sorrow, anger. The absolute end of a dark place inside of me.