Happily Ever One Day

I remember when I was young, dreaming of the day when Prince Charming would come knocking on my door, ready to whisk me away for our forever fairytale. I was so young and naïve. Oh, how I wish I could go back, but life isn't perfect fairytales and cheesy rom-coms. I know that now. I know that now because of him.

I met him when I was just fifteen years old. He was older than me. He was twenty two and he had a motorcycle. He was all tattoos and dark hair. He wasn't exactly the prince I imagined when I was little, but I wasn't that little anymore. I fell in love with him right away and every ounce of attention he gave me, I soaked it in. I felt special because he was giving me his attention and interest. He was my older brother's friend and he was at our house a lot. When I knew he was coming over, I'd paint my face with my mother's makeup and straighten down my God-given curls until the room smelt like burnt hair and desperation.

One day he came into our kitchen and it was just me in there. He looked at me and I caught him staring at my chest. I felt proud because they were finally growing and I was ecstatic that he noticed them. I did wear my brand new bra and low cut shirt just for him. I didn't know what to do because I've never been looked at like that, but I knew I had to play it cool. I looked right into his eyes and I popped out my hip a little bit like I see the girls do at school when they are talking to their crushes. I remember asking if he liked what he saw. I remember him slightly shaking his head and doing that smirk thing I always found so cute. I also remember his exact response. "You are a dangerous, dangerous girl. Do you want me to like what I see?"

Later that night, I was lying in bed and my bedroom door softly creaked open and slowly shut back. I felt the bed dip as someone climbed in next to me. My heart pounded so hard against my chest when I saw it was him. I used to daydream about this exact situation, but now I was feeling nauseas and scared. I tried to speak and ask if he could please go, but he shushed me. His fingers played with the light brown strands of my hair, as his cold lips touched my ear. He told me that I teased him all day and he needs me to help him now. His hand left my hair and went under my shirt. He said he knew that I was waiting for him and that I was a bad girl because I don't have a bra on, but I couldn't find my voice to tell him that I never wear one to bed, so it didn't have anything to do with him. He kissed me and it was all teeth and tongue and he tasted of cigarette smoke. I wanted to throw up, or run, or maybe both. I was ashamed because I did tease him and this was what I wanted. I wanted this didn't I?

He started getting angry at me because I wasn’t kissing back, but I’ve never kissed anybody. I have only seen it happen in the romance movies or in my favorite tv shows. They never looked rushed and sloppy like this was. He climbed on top of me and kissed me more, his hand grabbing at me from under my shirt. I tried to push him off and told him to stop because he was hurting me, but he didn’t. He took off our clothes and climbed back on top of me. I felt as if I was frozen underwater, like I couldn’t breathe, or move, or scream. I laid there staring at my ceiling, a teardrop falling from my eye, waiting for it to be over. I still felt ashamed because I did tease him and this was what I wanted. I wanted this didn’t I?

I remember waking up in pain, angry at myself and the world. But mostly myself because I felt as if it was my fault. I slowly got out of bed and saw the big, red stain on my lilac colored sheets. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and cried until snot ran down my nose and my lungs felt as if they were going to burst. I knew I needed to tell someone, but I still felt so ashamed.

It’s my fault.

It’s my fault.

It’s my fault.

I shouldn’t have worn my brand new bra or my low cut shirt when I knew he was coming over. I shouldn’t have tried so hard to do my makeup and hair when I knew he was coming over. I shouldn’t have flirted with him in the kitchen yesterday.

It was dinner time and I sat with my mom and brother at the dining room table. I couldn't eat, so I pushed my broccoli around the plate with my fork. I heard my mom call my name, but I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look into my mother’s eyes, too afraid she would see how broken her daughter is, how ashamed she is. I stared at the untouched food on my plate and wished with every bone in my body that the floor would just cave in and take me with it, so I don’t have to deal with anything ever again.

 My brother came around the table and shook my shoulder. I flinched at the touch and started crying all over again. I heard my mom shouting and my brother freaking out. They were asking me what’s wrong, but just like last night, my voice was nowhere to be found. They were trying to calm me down, but the tears wouldn’t stop pouring. I think I had an anxiety attack, but the rest of that night and the days that followed it are a little hazy to me now.

I did tell them what happened that night, all those years ago. I was taken to the hospital and got checked out. I went to therapy for a long time after that. The guy did get put in jail. I don’t know if he’s still there or out here in the world, but I try not to think or worry about it anymore. He took away years of my life and important moments that should have been special. I got my first boyfriend three years after the incident and the first time he tried to kiss me, I broke down and cried even after all that time. It stays with you and although you heal, the memory of what happened still lingers from time to time.

Now, I am a counselor for teens who might have went through what I did. I was able to tell my mom and brother what happened, but some girls or boys don’t have that option. I let them know I felt the same way. Ashamed and broken, like it was my fault. But it was not my fault. I was a young girl who had a silly crush on my brother’s best friend. I did my makeup and dressed cute because that’s what you do when you think or know you like someone. I was not a tease. He was a person who knew better, but did it anyways.

I like to think back to when I was younger and when I dreamt of Prince Charming, fairytales, and happily ever afters. I had a hard time thinking about those things after everything happened. I felt ruined. I know now that even though life isn’t perfect like what we see on screen or in books, that doesn’t mean life is bad. We can still make our own fairytales in every moment possible. We can still find that special someone who will love you fully with their heart and soul until the very end. And no matter how hard life gets, we can still have a happy ending to our story.