I was 16. I was supposed to be somewhere with friends, enjoying the cool breeze November had promised. I was supposed to letting my hair down enjoying life, because I was 16. I wish I could erase 16. Neither the breeze nor the friends could fill the void I'd soon encounter at 16.
The sudden discomfort of hot flesh caressing mines jolted me awake. I stare into the darkness still in my drowsy state. Something is touching my upper thigh, and I am now fully awake. I lay next to a boy. One I'd
known for years, as he began to make his way farther up my thigh.I lay still squeezing my legs together. I hope he stops soon. I don't want this. Maybe it was the shorts I wore. Maybe it was how close I slept. Maybe it was the way I talked to him. I wish he'd stop. I don't want this. He's at the hem of my shorts. I squeeze my legs shut. I don't want this. The sun is rising. Maybe he'll stop. He doesn't. Maybe I deserve this. To be reminded how helpless I am. I can't tell anyone. They won't believe me. I don't believe it. I sat there helplessly. I didn't fight. I lay frozen in fear. I didn't scream. I layed there. Nobody's going to believe me. I was 16.
