Disposable Virginity

I AM THE MONSTERS DAUGHTER. I AM SATANS RIGHT HAND BABY GIRL.


I can’t write a murder mystery, but I sure can write my name. This isn’t a romantic love story, it’s a horrifying tale of a teenage that has had to many drinks, and too many boys, and few too little family in her time here, and the result of that has been nothing less than me, myself, and my little world I’m about to introduce you too. The last two years of my life, have been so difficult, so interesting, painful, thoughtless, oh my, sometimes they have been hell, but worth it…hell that was worth it, because it was fun, I suppose. My mind must not have been working at the time, anything I did was for nothing more than tiny bits of attention, negative attention of course, or pleasure, or bragging rights, which I am now paying for dearly, everyday, every hour, every minute, every second, of every week of my life. Whether it is just thinking about the things that I have done, or how the things I have done have crippled me socially, it isn’t very pleasant. Maybe this will be some form of release, maybe this is just some painful excuse to write. I call it suicide, if anyone read this, and picked me out of a crowd and said “hey, didn’t you write that thing about yourself? Your really fucked up man!” I think I would die.

I’ll share my inner most thoughts with you, some things I haven’t yet told my closest and most beloved friends or family members, I trust you. I must be some sort of fool.

I was always awfully quiet, and shy. I never really exerted myself at school, I was always with my best friend forever of the week. I had cute, not subtle, dark brown hair, and big bizarrely coloured eyes. Some say are the same colour as cats eyes, and some say they are orange, all I know is that I inherited them from my Nanny who would be more commonly called my grandmother.
I lived with my mom, dad and little baby brother, in the best part of town. It was a duplex so there was another family with a little girl that lived beside us, she was a year or two older than me, but it didn’t matter, we became friends, we fought and fought, but we were still friends, and that was okay, we were only children. During the summer we would play in the little blow up pool in my side of the backyard, and during the winter we would climb trees in her side of the backyard and skate in the mini-rink my father had made in our side of the backyard for my little brother, the soon-to-be NHL star. The day my father put a fence in the backyard, we both cried. My cousin always used to visit us, she was a few years older than me, around 4 actually. I had a lot of girl friends on my street, they all were a little older than myself as well, and my father seemed to be making all my friends for me. On the outside, our life was perfect, we were the perfect little family, 2 parents, 1 daughter, 1 son, with the perfect backyard sharing neighbours. Of course that’s not true though, nothings perfect, nothing, ‘cept Jesus maybe. According to testimony’s, and statements, and court orders and sentences, my father is a child molester. Apparently, I’m Satan’s spawn, Satan’s right hand baby girl, I lured all the little girlies to my house, unknowingly of course, for them to be sexed up in the back room by the one, the only, good ol’ dad. He was a musician, so my mom let him take over the basement, and he built his drum room, which was a sound proof room that allowed him to play drums without disturbing anyone, and it seems that this was his horror spot, his ruining station, last stop for purity, lets all jump aboard the one way train to **********.
My poor cousin is ruined, if you’ve seen pictures of her before my dad happened, you see a beautiful little princess, who had big bright blue eyes and her entire life ahead of her. Now I would say she’s a wreck, she is broken. She didn’t have much left of her self esteem by the time the monster was finished with her. By the horrifically young age of 12 she was sleazing it up with guys 6 and 7 years her senior. I was at my aunt and uncles house on one occasion when she was 13 and she got caught with a boy in the bathtub, and he went screaming out the window.
I was never a victim, well, I could have been but I don’t think of it as something, it could possibly be considered as something, but I don’t care, it was fun you see, my father, and my cousin, the victim, were making a movie, she was in her bathing suit, a silly one piece, and I wanted to join, I wanted to show her up in my tiny weenie two piece, so I put mine on, and joined. He brought us downstairs, and started to film, told us to dance around a little, I still thought it was fun, although my cousin didn’t, and I didn’t get it. I just stood there, the camera made me shy, I jumped up on a table my dad had downstairs, and I think that was enough for him from me, then he told me to leave, and kept my cousin with him. I used to be so, naive, such a child, not a care in the world, a nothing can hurt me, I’m invincible attitude, I always felt so uncomfortable lying on my back, as though I was revealing to much, I never understood it, and as of now, I don’t want to understand it, there’s probably some fucked up, monsters daughter relationship between that and my father. I’m pretty sure I knew what was going on between my dad and my cousin, I would run around my house shouting “daddy loves my cousin” and the like.
He got caught. The bitch finally got what had been coming to him. It changed me, my family, we moved out to a shit-whole dump just outside the bigger city. He, of course, was still with us because of Canada’s atrocious legal system. There was another pretty little girl who lived beside us, she was a year older than I, and had the typical living on the outskirts of a big city drunken parents, who through parties, had lots of friends, and didn’t always pay enough attention to there daughter, possibly because of there lifestyle, and possibly because they had just gave birth to a new baby boy. I made friends with her immediately, almost 2 days after we had moved here, she was roller-skating in her drive-way, and I was standing a-top my deck which looked over there drive way, and we made plans to meet in the park later on that day. After bickering in the park for awhile about who was older (although it was very clear who was, I was just jealous) we went and asked her mom, then I felt like a complete idiot for fighting about it. She was 8, and I was 7. My mom brought home the bread in my household probably because my deadbeat dad couldn’t do anything other than wait to take that pretty little girl I had just befriended and ruin her as well. My mother laid down very strict rules for my father, one very important one was no other children were allowed in the house, not while she wasn’t home anyways. Every day I would invite my new friend over, and every day my mother would come home and see her alone with me my brother and my dad, this went on for awhile. One night when I was sleeping over at the girls house, my mom called early in the next morning with something important to say. I think it was April, it was very dreary out, it was cloudy, and spirits in my house certainly weren’t high, my mother had ended it with the monster that is my father. During the time that my father had been planning on making the girl his newest prey, she had apparently been making me hers. In the room in my house, which is now mine, we had experienced something so strange. We were rummaging through forgotten things in the room, which at that time was just a storage room, I found a striking pink dress, with frills at the bottom and ruffled shoulders, she found a tux. We took off our clothes, all of our clothes and put on the outfits. I can’t remember how, but I ended up sitting beside one of my fathers sub-woofers, and she came over as well, I don’t know how it started in that room, but we were touching each other, and it felt good, we were touching something we didn’t understand, but it still felt good. We left the room like nothing had gone on, it was okay, everything was okay then. I can’t remember how many times after that we had done these type of things, things children our age probably shouldn’t be doing, at least I think we weren’t supposed to be doing it, maybe other children did it, maybe they didn’t. I would look forward to our touching it felt so good. We would act out scenes, sexual scenes; for instance, when that room became mine, I had a closet, and we would take off our pants, put the hanging clothes in between us like a wall, and pretend we were sitting in bathroom stalls. We would flirt the best way we knew how, and say “oh well you should come over to my stall” and then we would fool around. Keep in mind that we were very, very young, still pre-pubescent little girls who were touching each other in places we were told not to share. When we would sleep at her house she had her bedroom in the basement, and it had an air duct that would pour warm air out of it, it sort of felt like a shower, and we used it as just that, we would pretend we were in the shower, and we would do the usual. She was my best friend, and my lover, I suppose you could say, I didn’t love her, I don’t think, I think I was to young for those intense emotions, but there definitely was something different with her, than there is with the boys I’ve been with recently, I always wanted to do more, give her more, if we were in a relationship, and we sort of were, it would have lasted almost 5 years. Maybe the want to give her more, was because neither of us had a penis, maybe that’s why lesbians feel like there is something missing, like you want to love her more, but you just can’t do it, its like a blockade, the Berlin wall, although that was knocked down too easily, this wall, this problem just can’t be fixed, I’m sure even with a strap on its not the same. We would experiment, yet we never did any form of penetration, it was all clitoral stimulation, one time she even went down on me, then my father walked in, and we were both shaken and petrified that he had found us out, but he hadn’t, really, why would you expect two little girls, at that age to be performing such sexual acts? We talked about it openly too, and among friends, one time I had another friend over, and she decided to say I had sex with her, I’m positive now it was only out of jealously, but then it hurt. We had, what I would consider full on lesbian sex at the age of her, 12, and I,11. The event was held at her house, a little after mid-night. It was the last thing we had ever done. I remember it perfectly, I still didn’t understand conception and I seriously thought she could get me pregnant. I was on top and we were grinding, moaning like we were adults, and then we were done. I sort of felt a little sore after, over stimulation I suppose, then she just wanted to sleep, and I just wanted to read, and that’s exactly what we did. The next time I had tried to start something, she just blew it off, and said we were much too old to be doing That anymore. I learned how to masturbate, and showed her that, and instead I would just do that. When I was 11 and 12 I had showed one of my other friends from school, because I had gone to a day care in town, I was allowed to go to school in the same area, what me and that girl had been doing, we tried it a few times, but stopped. I also told my cousin what had been going on, and she threatened me into showing her, she said she would tell her mom what I had been doing if I didn’t. I think I was 11 then, so I listened, and followed through, but it didn’t last long at all. I was so confused, I decided to tell my mom, I told her I had sex with three girls, and she said all it was, was experimenting, and then she explained to me what real sex was, and how real sex can only involve a penis and a vagina, not a vagina and a vagina, I don’t believe that now though, I believe you can have gay sex. After all this non-sense, me and the girl stopped talking, she began to hate me, and the like. She would pick fun at me in front of her friends, and I would just take it. I had to change schools because my school only went up to grade 6, so I decided to do my grade 7 year at a local all girls school. You could hardly say I went there, I attended class on days I wasn’t suspended for silly little things, like uniform imperfections. I hardly talked to any one from there, I became a computer junkie. I learned a lot of things from the computer about sex, drugs, music, if I had any questions about anything, rather than asking a parent or someone like that, I would consult Google. It was only half way through the year that I had made a few friends, and told them all I was having sex with boys, and doing intense hard-core drugs. I started using self injury as a way to make friends at school, or maybe not make friends, but earn something from them, tidbits of pity, or immense amounts of attention. I carved the words “Dark Angel” on the upper part of my arm, square in the middle. On the day of our “history fair” I sat on the back stairs to the gym, where the juncture was taking place with my friend when I started it, I used a protractor. It’s a good thing I haven’t kept up with my friends from that school, I wonder what they thing of me now. They probably think I was a slut, and a druggie and just all round screwed up. They probably thought I was going to end up on the corner of Durham and Elm, or dead. I always threatened to kill myself when something didn’t go my way, or didn’t go right at all. When I got caught by one girl making out with a girl on webcam for a guy who was masturbating for us, she decided she was going to tell the whole school, and I was terrified that the news that I had crushes and such on girls was going to be leaked. Now I wouldn’t care, I’ve made out with girls for what I’ve said was just for guys pleasure, not my own, I’ve smartened, but yet I was filled with stupidity. The night I found out she knew, I was scared she was going to tell my “boyfriend” who lived in British Columbia, that I met on MSN, that I was a lesbian, and then I threatened to kill myself, and thought about how horrible it would make her feel. I brought myself to tears that night, I was scared of myself, and what I could do. I had never seriously thought about suicide until that night, before it had just been a whine for attention. I wasn’t crying because of what had been going on, I was crying because of the ability I had, I could end my life. I could put my family through great amounts of suffering, by making it messy, by laying on the train tracks behind my house, be decapitated make it into a real horrorshow bloody confusion of mangled limbs and lacerations all over my body, then they’d be forced to identify what was left of me, and I’m sure that would just destroy them. I would never go through with it though, I’m to scared, I love life to much. Life and I have a love-hate relationship, sometimes it treats me like shit, and sometimes it treats me well, when it treats me like shit, I hate it, and when it makes me feel wonderful, I love it more than anything else, and I’m so glad just to be alive. So many people take life for granted, its unbelievable. Although I guess I’m being somewhat of a hypocrite, right now, I hate my life, that sounds a little harsh actually, well me and life are going though some tough times, I’m keeping secrets, I’m being untruthful to the love of my life, about him being the love of my life, and about other boys, and what I’ve done with other boys and numbers. I was drunk, but I didn’t cheat, it was before I was with him, and I was obviously way to young to drink. I started drinking when I was 12 years old, which is completely and utterly insane, my brother is now 12 years old, and I find him much to young to drink, to irresponsible, maybe I was different, but I highly doubt it. I can remember the very first time I tried alcohol without friends, It was my moms cooler, and we were in Sault Ste. Marie for Christmas and New Years, with no less than 20 minutes till the new year, my mom let me have a sip, and the rest of the night I was freaking out because I thought that, that little sip was going to destroy my kidneys, I also had anxiety problems then, actually come to think of it, after I started drinking, the anxiety problems stopped. After my little sip I drank lots and lots of water, in fear of my kidneys, trying to flush them out, then I went to bed, still scared and with the sorest stomach ache, and the worst sweaty hands ever, as a result of my anxiety attack. A few months after that, I think it could have been May, I was with some friends who lived on the street, all different ages, the youngest being 10. The 10 year old, who was not an ordinary 10 year old, stole alcohol from his parents. This boy had been so screwed up by his parents, he was the one who brought on the idea of drinking on our street. He stole a cooler, and we went in the back lane, near the train tracks behind my house, and drank it, we shared 1 cooler between about 5 people, so we didn’t get drunk, but weren’t we rebels? We were drinking. That brought on more and more drinking. The second time I had drank was yet again, in the back lane behind my house. This time unlike the last, I actually drank enough to get my self drunk, I only had 3 beer. A little while later, after traipsing around the street with other drunk children, I went home, and told my younger brother who was probably 9 or 10 at that time, what I had done, and I begged him to help me not get caught, so he gave me pink lemonade to get rid of the smell. He was so proud to actually be talking to me, rather than just shouting back insults, or meekly taking them. With alcohol, came promiscuity, drinking behind the bridge with the man slut of the street, and allowing him to go up my shirt whenever I would see him, and allowing this in front of the boy that I liked, so maybe he would like me too, and follow suit. I would drink with the boys, and a girl that went to my all girl catholic school, who coincidentally was more screwed up than me, and stole alcohol from her foster parents. I used her for her alcohol, and her friendship, I didn’t actually like her. When you use someone for there friendship, its different than actually being there friend, you just need them so you have something to do with your life, you have someone to hang out with, so your not completely wasting your time here on earth. We would drink under the bridge, we would drink wine, and then we would sit there for awhile, until we decided to get up and find people and scream “WE’RE DRUNK!” and then laugh hysterically. On that girls birthday, we all went to this little place we called a cabin, it was merely an area in the bush near the river, and we drank. I stole alcohol from my house that night, and so did everyone else. The boy that I liked was there. After our drinking time, we went back to her house, and watched movies, the boys had to leave at 11, and the girls slept there. That summer I did nothing except every once in awhile I would go out and drink with people from the street, or the girl, or my other friend I had known for a very long time, she was a few years older than me, 3 to be exact. I would consider her my best friend, I tell her everything, and she tells me everything. We made a pact, that if we were to ever commit suicide, it would be together, and since then, we’ve never been in sync, either everything’s going well for her, or everything’s going well for me. Nothing is ever bad for both of us, so I suppose we’re saving each other. I left the all girls school after grade 7, I only stayed there for a year, and I went to the local catholic school. The school was so dreadful, it was a catholic school in the tiny town on the outskirts of a big city where I lived. There were secrets galore. In this little place, there are main families, the hadn’t necessarily been here since the place first became a town, but that had acquired it none the less. They pretty much owned the school, if children of the families got in trouble it was to be dealt with by the parents, who were informed by the principal, and no one else was supposed to know. If anyone else, like I for instance, got in trouble, it would most likely be announced on the PA while I was serving my suspension, or so I’ve come to conclude. The only sane man that was there was the vice principal, and he was only there for a year. I was weird, I was dark, and everyone there was the complete opposite of me, I knew two people, so I had to make friends quick, but I’ve always had to, I’ve mastered the art of meeting people and making friends. Within the first week a boy who had lived on my street decided I was going to take on the label as the slut. He told everyone I had done this and that, he told them all I wasn’t a virgin, but I was. I had lost my virginity before I had the chance to have sex. I, being as stupid as I was, went along with it for quite some time. The boy I had liked the summer before went to my school and I followed him religiously, I would give up everything and anything, to talk to him. For the first little while I was left to my own defences, I hardly knew anyone, somewhat like what had happened at the all girls school, I think all the time I had to be alone and I had to over-think is what made me the way I am, because I was nothing like this before, I was happy, now I’m so form of an insomniac, and I’m painfully depressed. I thought I was so hard done by, and at first it really wasn’t, but during the time I thought it was, I made my life into a giant hurricane aftermath type wreck. I was hanging out one night with the boy I liked and finally allowed him to go up my shirt, as I had by that time allowed so many others to do, we were behind a trailer in the back lane behind my house, lying in the grass, he sort of forced it on me, but what did I care, I thought I loved him, but I merely had a childish crush. I had finally started dating the boy that I had liked in around mid October, I was so excited, even to hug him seemed like an impossible feat. The first time I had hung out with him, was on my street, with all the other children on my street. The boy I liked, the man whore of the street and the screwed up 10 year old all got high I was sitting in a chair with my crush and he was touching me, over the pants, near my crotch. Then afterwards everyone played hide and go seek in another boy, my age’s back yard. Behind his backyard there was an indent, where a ditch once had been, but now was dried up, and me and my boyfriend were lying in it, and he started touching me again and rubbing and it felt so good, than my brother and the 10 year old came near us with a lighter, and light the lighter, because it was dark out, it light up the area me and my boyfriend were lying in, than they screamed me and my boyfriend were having sex. After that we hung out again, this time I was on my period, at this time I was still wearing big, gross pads, and when I went to go say good-bye to him, we started hard-core making out, because we didn’t know how to do anything else, and yet again, he started rubbing my crotch, what he doesn’t know is he was just rubbing a big ugly bloody pad. Another time in the park, we were with a bunch of people, and it was dark, and we were all just lazily lying on the grass, and he got on top of me and started rubbing me yet again, and kissing me, he was a very demanding, controlling person, I couldn’t have stopped him or got away even if I tried.

THE MORE INTRESTING PARTS ARE COMING, VERY SOON, THIS IS NOTHING COMPARED TO THE REST.