The Unbroken But Impure

CHAPTER 44 THE FRAGMENTS OF HER INNOCENCE

Morning came......

Mae sat on the edge of the bed, her knees drawn close to her chest. Her friends had all gone out to have breakfast by the sea, laughing and enjoying the trip as if nothing in the world could dampen their spirits. But Mae stayed behind, shrouded by silence.

The events of last night replayed in her mind like a broken film reel, distorted, hazy, and impossible to fully grasp. She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to erase the fragments of memory.

No one knew what happened. Not Liza, not the other girls. The beach was too dark, and by the time dawn came, Mae had slipped back unnoticed. She was thankful for that, at least. The shame was hers alone to bear.

She bled not just spots, but trails of bloods.

And it hurts. Really hurts.

When Liza knocked earlier, Mae only said through the door,

"I'm not feeling well. Go ahead without me." And that was enough. Her friends didn't ask questions. They never would.

She curled tighter into the sheets, a sick feeling twisting in her stomach. The salty air wafted through the window, mocking her with the carefree joy of the ocean waves. For the first time, Mae wished the trip had never happened.

The next day.....

The van rumbled along the highway, swaying slightly as it carried the group of friends back from the beach. The sun was low, casting a golden haze over the window glass. The girls were chatting happily, laughing over silly photos taken with wet hair, sunburnt cheeks, and half-spilled weapontails.

Mae sat with them, smiling where she had to, laughing at the right cues, her voice blending naturally into their joy. To anyone watching, she looked no different from the rest, a carefree young woman returning from a holiday.

But inside, Mae's world was a wreck. Her laughter was hollow, her smile stretched thin. Each giggle she let out was carefully crafted, a mask hiding the truth of what had happened the night before.

She kept glancing at her friends. Their faces glowed with innocence, their eyes sparkling as if the night had passed without shadows. They had drifted off, lulled by alcohol and exhaustion, oblivious to what Mae had endured. Oblivious that she alone bore the weight of that night's violation.

She clenched her hands in her lap, forcing herself to breathe evenly. They can't know. I won't let them know. If they knew, it would break everything. And they are safe because of me.

When the van finally rolled into their hometown, Mae excused herself quickly. She said goodbye to her friends with practiced ease, even hugging Liza as though nothing troubled her heart. Only when she was alone, walking down the familiar street to her house, did the mask slip. Her face tightened, her steps slowed, and her body ached in ways she had never known before.

That late afternoon, unable to silence her fear, she made the decision. She went to the doctor.

The clinic was quiet, the fluorescent lights humming faintly. Mae sat on the examination bed, her fingers gripping the paper sheet beneath her. The doctor adjusted her glasses as she finished the examination.

When she finally spoke, her words were careful, but their weight was devastating.

"Mae," she began softly, "your body shows signs of significant trauma. Your hymen tissue has been severely stretched and torn in several areas. It has not collapsed entirely, but the damage is undeniable."

Mae swallowed hard. "So... what does that mean? Am I... still...?"

The doctor paused, considering her response. "Technically, portions of your hymen remain intact. But the integrity of the tissue has been compromised. In layman's terms, you are physically still a virgin, but not truly. The structure that once symbolized that state has suffered what I would call a brutal beating. It is on the verge of collapse."