the smallest man who ever lived (tw warning) 

at 17, we met at group therapy. he was a walking red flag. addicted to drugs, bad relationship with his abusive father, arrested for possession of a weapon, arrested for fighting.
 

but he was the first guy to have a crush on me. i didn't feel the same way, but a part of me liked the attention. then he dated another girl, and i missed the attention he gave me.

my mom died. i didn't know what to do or how to cope. he suggested i'd come over to have a drink. i never drank before that night. he kept pouring me vodka, telling me it'd make me feel better. then he kissed me. i was so out of it, i didn't realize what was going on so i let him kiss me.

he started isolating me from my friends. during my breaks, he'd take me somewhere secluded and didn't let me get back to the others until i made him cum. i remember the fear and the shock, how my body froze when he said "no" when i said i wanted to go. he'd cum in my mouth and i had to wash my mouth and then go back to the rest of the group like nothing happened.

because i didn't fight back, he thought i didn't mind. i think. or maybe he did know but didn't care. even i didn't realize what was going on. i didn't realize what he was doing was wrong, i just knew i didn't like it.

we ended up dating somehow, a month after my mom died. i went over to his house. that day, 28th of june, he took my virginity without my consent. again, i didn't scream, cry or fight back. my mind just went somewhere else, my body limp beneath him.

he didn't wear a condom and i wasn't on the pill. he had sex with other girls and i was terrified he gave me a std or got me pregnant.

after the sex, he never cuddled me, never helped me clean up. he always rolled over and played games on his phone. I felt used and i hated him and myself. sometimes i came when he touched me, but i didn't like it. but because i came, i assumed it wasn't rape. but it was. it's like being tickled, even if you don't like it, if someone knows where to touch, you'll laugh anyways.

i fell in love with another boy. he was nerdy, funny, soft and gentle. he liked me too.

but he found out about my crush on another guy, and he hit me. it wasn't hard as far as i remember, but it scared me. he tied me up on his bed, and fucked me so hard i started bleeding. i was covered in bruises the next day, but he always knew where to leave them.

i consoled him when he cried, i paid for things he needed or wanted, i didnt talk to anyone but him cause he'd get mad.

it lasted 2 years. he got better the more he spent time with me, while I got worse. i made him kind, hardworking, focused on his future. he made me miserable and traumatized. i was the best thing that happened to him, while he was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

once he got more gentle, i was confident enough to break up with him. he chased me for months after that, calling me, showing up at my house, texting me. eventually he gave up.

last ive heard from him, is that he's top of his class, class president and got a car.

i used to hate him, despise him, loathe him. now i feel sorry. not for him, but for myself. for the depressed, young girl he put through hell. for him talking down on me, like i had any self worth to begin with.

I'll never forgive him for anything. I'll still think about him at certain nights, replaying things i should've said or done. he was a hard lesson about standing up for myself.