by Marady Owens
(Barrie, Ontario, Canada)
His hands are on my breasts, the ones I got last year. His fingers unbuttoning my blouse. His lips on my skin, sucking, kissing. Passionately, no room for gentleness.
He says he loves me. His eyes are crazy with it. His hand slides up my skirt, finds my panties.
"Wait," I want to say. "I'm only fourteen. I'm scared. You're the first boy I've kissed."
But I remember he's not a boy. Barely a man, but still not a boy. He'd never understand.
It happens fast. I gasp with pain. He gasps with pleasure. I didn't say no. But I didn't say yes either, did I?
"Stop," I try to say, but all I can do is push him. He is drunk. He pulls back, confused, and stumbles.
A splash. He has fallen off the dock where he has taken my innocence, where he has made love to me against my will but with all of his.
Too drunk and too tired to swim, he drowns. Right before my eyes. I watch. I am scared. I am angry.
But what is a girl to do?