I never meant to hurt anyone.

    I wonder if she did. Were we all just collateral damage? A means to an end? We wanted to make her happy. Why wouldn't she let us?

    Is my life just an echo of what she started? How do I know what I'm really feeling? I've spent two years sorting through the psychological mess she left in my head, and I've barely made any progress. I feel like I'm caught in a mass of tangled strings, and if I can only find the right one, it'll all come clean. But maybe that's what I'm truly afraid of. The truth coming crashing back down.

    It seems like she's waiting for something, but only she knows what.

    Where is my catalyst? Perhaps it's somewhere in the cobwebs of everything I need to sort through. Mentally or physically.

    What does this have to do with my story? My life?

    Everything. Nothing.

   

    I remember the morning it happened. After he left. Curled up in the corner of my bed with both walls firm at my back.

    Later getting up, feeling so used and foreign in my own body. For a little while,  it was as if my mind had deserted me.

    Until I looked in the mirror.

    That was it, huh?

    Who was that girl?

    Who is that girl?

    This is what they call the end of innocence. Welcome to the world.

    Is this how it's supposed to be?

    What does it matter? This is it. This is what you have to face, every morning, every afternoon, every night. Every time you wake up. Every time you look in the mirror. Every time you breathe. Every time your heart beats.

    This is you. Now. Forever, perhaps?

    First off, I'd like to state that I am not, in fact, a whore, harlot, lady of the evening, prostitute or any other colorful titles one might tag me. I never was, and never will be.

    I know this seems horribly cliché of me, but it was all a misunderstanding. Believe me when I say I wanted to wait. So much in my life had been stolen already, so why would I throw something like my integrity and innocence out the window? It was all I had left.

    Even now I'm trying to figure out who is to blame. Me for not saying "no" when I felt it was the only way to survive? Or his for taking what was mine to give to whom I wished. It probably doesn't even matter anymore, but my mind brings it up from time to time.

    With all I'm implying, you may be wondering about a previous statement; about being a modern-day Magdalene. Yes, as in Mary Magdalene. She was the first person to come to mind when I tried to find some sort of historical character to connect with.

    I will confess that I wasn't the most innocent girl when it happened, but I wasn't messing around with just anyone...until the night before. I was very lonely, and I know that's no excuse, but it was how I rationalized doing what I did.

    I was sick, too, and depressed. Because of everything that had happened the year before, I was just starting to pick up shards of my previous life in an attempt to move on.

    Once again, I admit, no excuse.

    Even now, I wonder how different my life would be if certain things hadn't happened the year before.

    Would I even be writing this?

    The mind is each person's greatest asset or the tool of their ultimate demise. Or both, maybe.

    But, I digress...

What do you say when something bad happens to a person you care about?
    That you're there for them?
    That you'll be available, day or night, if they need someone to listen, go for a walk, or simply go get an ice cream sundae while you both keep your thoughts to yourselves?
    Do you swear your undying devotion?
    Or do you say something along the lines of, "People make mistakes. No one's perfect. Everybody hurts." How about a little R.E.M. to brighten your day?
    Or not.

That might be your method. In my case, things went a little differently.

I stuck around as long as it took to run away. I know that's an odd choice of words, but it's the truth.

I'm a modern-day Magdalene. What more do you need to know?