There was a girl. She had her hair in curls. She dearly loved a boy. Not that he loved her back. She thought “don’t be coy.” She carried a sack. Of things she “lacked.” She hung it over her shoulder. It was large, some saying like a boulder. Nobody asked what it was. They just were colder. This made her feel like a fool. She was so tired. She could drool. She wanted to let it go. Not that it was heavy so- She carried it up until the bell rang. Pushing in her chair. All the boy could do was stare. This isn’t love. This is lust. She saw the look in his eyes. The blood rushing to his veins. Maybe it wasn’t that? Maybe he’s being silly. Like a cat. She thought nothing of it and went along her day. When she got home, it was to her surprise she found him in her room. Waiting. On her bed. Like a piece of led. Open. Ready? She trembled. She didn’t like this. Sure, she liked him. But wasn’t it bad enough she wasn’t sure if he was only showing lust? Oh well. His hands roamed along her body. She didn’t like this. She had chills. He surely felt her body going cold and her stomach churning. Not in a love sick way. In a bad.. bad way.. She pushed him off, with all her strength, yelling no, repeatedly. Not that he listened. He gripped her by her shirt, pulling her back, yanking her. He did unthinkable things to her. A girl. A child. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s baby. Someone’s niece. She woke up, no boy in sight. But she definitely felt him. Felt his hands all over her body. This is one of those moments that she won’t forget, she thought. She was bare. Sore. Numb. A little dirty. Messy. Hair messed up. Clothes on the ground. Knife on the bed, her blood on it. She felt dizzy. She was gonna pass out. This was too much. She’s only a eighth grader. Not again. This happened when I was 7. The end.