The Short Stories of Life

It's My Fault

No matter what happens it's my fault. I can't truly tell myself otherwise. Sometimes it's the things you blame yourself that will end up killing you. It's a slow, painful death. Maybe it wasn't your fault. Maybe it was. You can't ever really know.

It was just another day in the summer. Getting ready for the day. Talking to people I'll never talk to again and I'll never meet. There was no harm. Just meeting new people, flirting every now and then.

He didn't have a name but he was different. He got straight to the point. He wanted nudes. I wasn't comfortable with it. I've sent nudes once. That was enough for me. And when I said no he said he had a picture of me naked already through photoshop and said he would post it if I didn't do as instructed.

So I blocked him. Knowing he couldn't talk to me again. I thought I was safe. But I wasn't. Someone new messaged me. They said they got a picture. A picture of me-topless. And I need to unblock him and do as told.

I started to yell at him. Saying this isn't how you treat people. This isn't the right thing to do. He shouldn't listen to a dirt bag like him. He simply said he was following orders. More guys started to message me telling time to unblock him and do what he says. It must have been at least 15 guys that messaged me.

I finally gave up and unblocked him. He said all he wanted was simple. A picture in my underwear. I had to pose in a certain way though. In front of a mirror, turned partly sideways. That's all he wanted. So I just did it. It wasn't bad. I only had to take it six times for it to finally look decent.

Even though I did that. He told me to take the underwear off. I instantly said no. He said I had to. I still said no. He said this is the last thing. I didn't want to, but I didn't want the photoshopped picture out more. So I took the stupid picture. The same position as the underwear one.

He then said I need to give him my Skype. I needed to shave down under before we Skyped. He needed to jerk off to me. Then I'd finally be done. At this point I was already in tears. And I already knew there would be "one last thing".

There was one thing I could do. I called my best friend, Casey. I go to her for everything. She's always there for me. I was crying and she could still understand me. She calmed me down. We met up. And she was with me for the rest of the day.

8 Months Later

My heart always makes me trust again. I had a couple wonderful boyfriends, thinking they were different. But they weren't. They never are. I should listen to my head that tells me I can't trust them. But my heart screams to loud. It drowns out my head.

Even though it's been eight months it still plays in my head. It's my fault, I know it. But some will say it's not my fault. But I'll always believe it was. I will never truly get it out of my head. I was only 15, yet I feel like a 30 year old giving up on love.