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26 April 2007

The Addicts Aftermath

My Devil locked himself in his room for three days, the others phone and phoned me telling me he would kill himself. They begged me to go round there, all I could say was, ‘I can’t’.

I wollowed and pined, I was hurt and I didn’t quiet know what to do. I was assuming I was still a virgin but was not sure. I spent hours reasoning with myself that I would have felt sore or somehting if he had actually managed to do anything.

Drugs = syringes and syringes = aids and I didn’t even want to think on that. I wondered if I should go and get tested but I did not know where to go and I thought I might have to pay and I had no money. An apathy eat away at me, my course work seemed such a huge struggle, what had I done? Would my friends still talk to me?

I trembled at the thought of pregnancy but was too painfully scared of shops to buy a test, besides my mother knew everybody I couldn’t be cuaght buying a pregnancy test and they are really expensive when you only have a tenner a week. I didn’t tell anyone else what had happened – I felt it was all my fualt. I missed him as well, stupidly enough, if he had phoned me himself I would have probably run straight back to him.

I tried to tell my mother, I wanted help I wanted to know what was the right thing to do. Remember that I really didn’t know what having sex would feel like, so ashamed of my body had I been that I hadn’t even used tampons, nothing, not so much as a finger had been inside me so I didnt know weather I would be sore – I knew hymens bleed when broken but my Mother had told I wouldn’t have a hymen as I rode a bike.

She kept going on about what a nice boy the Addict was and why had I broken up with him? I tried to tell her but before I could she luanched onto a story of her own. About how she had always wanted to be a virgin until marriage but that some man had spiked her drink and that she was so glade that she had given me the ware with all for this not to happen.

She went on and on about what a horrible experience it was and about her STD and about how I would never get myself in that situation and thats why she was telling me so that I wouldn’t make the same mistake as her.

I wanted to shout that she was too late but I sat there in silence being talked to. Now I couldn’t tell her, I couldn’t crush her. I was alone.

I now know that he hadn’t done anything, but i also know that he wanted too, he said the others had told him they had given me something to losen me up and he hadn’t been thinking. last I saw him he was clean, had a lovely girlfriend and was back at college, should I have left him? I cant equate what happened in my head with the ‘date rape’ stuff and certianly not with bloody Hollyoaks.

I write about these things becuase I have trouble in leaving them in the past. He admits he was screwed up, he was more a child than I was, a lost abandoned child living above his granddads shop his family having split and both perants desserted him.

I wish I could have trusted someone, anyone enough to have actually spoken about this. The friend who rescued me was to cuaght up at the time in her own private life and we weren’t to talk of events until nearly two years later – by which point I had convinced myself that it was a fictional event. I once again doubted my memory and my sanity.