Are You Virgin?

Some History

I started out as many did in those days. A little helpless baby, born to a father that never cared and a mother who let me go. I was never meant to happen as a matter of fact. A mistake that two people made and both agreed they didn't want to keep.
Although I may have I ended up in better circumstances than others, my situation was still unpleasant. I don't recall my mother or father, or any of my family. The only people I remember are the sisters that looked over me and took me in as an infant. Beyond that I don't remember much about the early days of my life.
They told me that I arrived on a dusty summer night. The kind of nights that the summer sun sets upon, yet the darkness brings a coolness along with it. To this day I have no idea what they meant by 'dusty' but I do know that I came in the days between growth and harvest. The exact date of my birth was left unknown, as was the name of my family.
All that was left at the steps of the stone house, in the handwoven basket I laid in was a knitted blanket that kept me warm and a little piece of sanded down wood. And on that dark piece of wood, painted in darkened and dried blood was a single word.
A name.
Mary.