underage adultery
By: RDV
She had forgotten the time when her life had turned into a rainy day. All she knew was that her heart had turned into nothing but a sac in her chest. The boyfriend, unfaithful, with no face to speak of had done well to do it just when she believed the relationship was working out in smooth synchrony.
Fifteen fucking years old. Juvenile. Puerile. Brainless. The only shelter she knew apart from her uncontested beauty was her mother’s arms and her father’s forgiveness, which by the way was often mistaken for paternal malpractice for being too profuse and easily earned.
She wept for long, saying that the reason why she chose an ugly guy for a swain was that so no girls would come after him.
Well they did. That’s the wonder. And the favors were returned, responded time after time until it became a habit. How in life there came a person like that remained a mystery. And it was ever the constant question why she’d stoop down to him. Each time the subject was brought up by concerned friends, she’d say she loved him. Then like a child that said something stupid, got reprimanded and felt horrible as a result, she’d sink in, quiet, drowning in their amused stares, doused in shame. But she had been so knotted in her worries, she never could understand them anymore. Whether she sank or swam, the worst of them would catch up with her, fresh, new and renewed each time.
Oh she never forgot the times when he’d asked her to make his school projects. Which was a clear testimony that he was of no value, studies-wise. And he wasn’t loaded either. Just a person with something dangling between his legs, which wasn’t the point.
The point is, the mistakes could not be reverted.
She was crying alongside her soul, clouded around her mom’s warmth. Somewhere in that minute, the tears disappeared without being hushed. She tried to explain it, but her story ended before she could open her mouth. Her mother knew. It was like when he forgot their monthsary, on the 6th of never, and she swooned , cried, broke down in a deluge of tears like it was the end of the world.
The flower of youth withered there. It was time it was reborn.
She told her mom she loved him still. Ah, what bullshit. When would she see that she’d been used and overused? Tomorrow? By then it would be too late and the relief somewhere down the line would be gone for no second chance. Fate had had enough and it would no longer take excuses. But maybe it could take pity. Who knows or cares?
She cried still, disconsolate. It would never end, whatever it was she mourned for. The only thing to wait for was realization.
She had forgotten the time when her life had turned into a rainy day. All she knew was that her heart had turned into nothing but a sac in her chest. The boyfriend, unfaithful, with no face to speak of had done well to do it just when she believed the relationship was working out in smooth synchrony.
Fifteen fucking years old. Juvenile. Puerile. Brainless. The only shelter she knew apart from her uncontested beauty was her mother’s arms and her father’s forgiveness, which by the way was often mistaken for paternal malpractice for being too profuse and easily earned.
She wept for long, saying that the reason why she chose an ugly guy for a swain was that so no girls would come after him.
Well they did. That’s the wonder. And the favors were returned, responded time after time until it became a habit. How in life there came a person like that remained a mystery. And it was ever the constant question why she’d stoop down to him. Each time the subject was brought up by concerned friends, she’d say she loved him. Then like a child that said something stupid, got reprimanded and felt horrible as a result, she’d sink in, quiet, drowning in their amused stares, doused in shame. But she had been so knotted in her worries, she never could understand them anymore. Whether she sank or swam, the worst of them would catch up with her, fresh, new and renewed each time.
Oh she never forgot the times when he’d asked her to make his school projects. Which was a clear testimony that he was of no value, studies-wise. And he wasn’t loaded either. Just a person with something dangling between his legs, which wasn’t the point.
The point is, the mistakes could not be reverted.
She was crying alongside her soul, clouded around her mom’s warmth. Somewhere in that minute, the tears disappeared without being hushed. She tried to explain it, but her story ended before she could open her mouth. Her mother knew. It was like when he forgot their monthsary, on the 6th of never, and she swooned , cried, broke down in a deluge of tears like it was the end of the world.
The flower of youth withered there. It was time it was reborn.
She told her mom she loved him still. Ah, what bullshit. When would she see that she’d been used and overused? Tomorrow? By then it would be too late and the relief somewhere down the line would be gone for no second chance. Fate had had enough and it would no longer take excuses. But maybe it could take pity. Who knows or cares?
She cried still, disconsolate. It would never end, whatever it was she mourned for. The only thing to wait for was realization.
posted by Ria D. at
11:32 PM
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