After about five minutes of this, he finally pulled back. To me, I remember it being about half an hour, but I�m sure it wasn�t that long. The logical side of my brain tells me it was about five minutes. But I would have sworn an oath in court, I would have sworn to God that it was longer. A lot longer. A lifetime. And I didn�t like it. And I didn�t want him to do it again. And I wanted to cry. And he looked at me with this slightly shocked expression on his face and he said, in this surprised tone of voice, �Wow, I didn�t think you would open your mouth.�

He then turned to start the car and drive me home.

I felt: stupid, foolish, wrong, bad, used, shame, guilt, relief, confusion, scared, cold inside.

I don�t think I said anything all the way back to my house. He stopped, got out and walked me to the door. He went for another kiss but I don�t remember if I turned away and walked in the house, or if I just gave up, let him kiss me, then went inside. I just don�t remember.

I got inside and I felt: cold, so very cold. empy inside, alone, scared, lost, confused, scared, scared, scared, lonely, lost, used, abandoned, defiled (though I didn�t know what defiled meant then).

I went upstairs to my room and kneeled down by my window, opening it, letting the cold air come in and chill me so I didn�t feel so cold inside. The house was quiet. The town was quiet. It was about two in the morning. The church bells two blocks away were silent. It was eerie and the town seemed dead and I felt so very, very alone.

I don�t know if I cried. I think I did, but I�m not sure. I know that I was kneeling there for a very long time. At least it felt like a very long time.

I wonder if recounting this so... indepth, will purge it from my memory. I don�t remember ever really going into so much detail with someone I trusted. I don�t remember ever telling anyone how I felt, how it happened step by step and how I felt step by step. Maybe this... getting it out... maybe this will purge the need for my weight shell. Dunno.

The next day Mom asked me about the date. She asked me what time I got back and I told her. I wanted her to tell me that because I was late, I was grounded. I wanted her to tell me that I couldn�t go out with Jonny again. I wanted her to tell me that I was irresponsible and knew better and that I would have to wait a while before I could go out on another date with anyone, but specifically Jonny.

She didn�t. She said that I knew better and that next time I should remember to get home sooner but that she was glad I�d gone out.

I felt so... : wrong, scared, alone, surprised, betrayed, lost and again, alone. I don�t remember if she asked if he kissed me. I don�t think she did. And I didn�t volunteer that information.

Because: she liked him, approved of him, respected him and thought we would have fun together. I believed that she wanted me to be more involved with him. I believed she wouldn�t care that he had kissed me. And I believed that she wouldn�t care that I didn�t like it.

At that, I felt: lost, alone, bad, wrong, stupid, foolish, scared, abandoned, frozen, cold, so very, very, very cold inside. I felt like my only hope had just told me she was on Jonny�s side. I felt like my only defense liked the guy that was hurting me. And then, then I thought that maybe I was over reacting. Maybe I should just buck up and take it. After all, Mom liked him, she was more mature than I was. Maybe she saw something I didn�t. Maybe I should just put up with it.

And then I started rationalizing it to myself. I started telling myself that it wasn�t like anyone else was ever going to show an interest in me. It wasn�t like anyone else ever wanted to date me. Jonny was tall enough. He was in the same church. Mom liked him. At least Mom would be happy. And obviously Jonny was happy. So, maybe I should just stuff my own feelings and thoughts. After all, what did I know? I was just a young, immature little girl. I was innocent and naive and so unsocialized that I didn�t have the foggiest idea what was going through my head. Literally, I couldn�t recognize what was my real thought and what was the lie I was telling myself.

Over the next few days, I didn�t talk much. I didn�t eat much. I just... existed. Scared, crying inside. But if I cried the night Jonny kissed me, I didn�t cry after that.

We went out the following weekend. And every weekend after that. I don�t remember what all we did, I don�t remember how often we went out, but each time he would try to kiss me. After that first night, I didn�t tell him no. I didn�t pull away very often. I didn�t deny him very often.

Because: I had already said no and he didn�t pay any attention to my words, so why fight it now? Mom liked him, so I should at least tolerate him. No one would care that I didn�t want to kiss him. He took me out and paid. The least I could do is pay him back with a few kisses. After all, they were just kisses, right? There wasn�t anything else he wanted, right? Just kisses. Besides, kissing was okay, wasn�t it? Kissing was okay to do, wasn�t it? Kissing was just... kissing, right?

But I felt so... disgusting inside. And whenever he would kiss me, I would close my eyes, keep my hands to myself, folded across my chest or folded in my lap, I would let him kiss me. And I would open my mouth and let him push his tongue into my mouth. And after a few times, after a few more dates, I started kissing him back.

Yes, I started kissing him back. Why? As an experiment. I wanted to know if he would hurry up, maybe take fewer kisses if I kissed back. The first couple times that worked. But only the first couple times.

But that was all it took. After that first time that I kissed back, he was surprised. He took me back home and just sort of blinked as I went inside. But the next time we went out, we went to a fancier place. Instead of the pizza joint, we went to an actual sit-down dinner, with a movie following. And not the budget theater, a real theater.

So, My interest turned from wanting to get home immediately, to wondering if I gave him a little more, would I get something better out of it. Part of me felt so very dirty when I would kiss him. Part of me was still screaming and crying on the inside, begging me not to let him touch me. And that little part of me got squelched time and time again. That little voice got quieter and quieter as time went on. More and more distant. That little part of me crawled back into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind and hid there, alone, scared, terrified, not liking what was going on, but helpless.