Memoirs of a Teen: The Untold Story
Last Touch
Hello once again. I see you are still here, reading my story. It has been nearly 3 years since my last major touch. Sure, there have been ones here and there. But this is my last one.
January 15.
Oh how I would forever remember this day. It was a Sunday. The day before Martin Luther King Junior Day. I was in eighth grade. I was six months shy of the age of fourteen. Six months and eleven days.
I was at my grandma's house. There was going to be a family dinner. Just to have one; a get together if you will. My nanny came over, and he came with her. But all was good. I wouldn't go in my room. I'd stay in the kitchen where everyone was.
My nanny got on the computer before supper was done. She was looking up Myspace layouts. I put my chin on her right shoulder, looking at then with her.And he came up behind me, disguising it as looking over her other shoulder as he reached over and grabbed my rear. I gasped.
How no one saw it, I'm not to sure. How no one heard it, that greatly confused me as well. I mean I was loud in the small kitchen. I pulled away, and went hide in the bathroom. I must have been there for half of the night.
Later, after everyone left, and my grandparents went to sleep, I crawled out from the bathroom. My heart still beating sporadically against my chest. I climbed into the computer chair and sat, tears coming to my eyes. Someone had to know.
I logged onto my favorite website, and spilled my heart out to the lovely girls of it. Everything that had happened that night, and everything that had happened since I was nine. I spilled it all out.
The advice I received. Oh how I loved all of the girls that helped me. They saved me.
And as I told them, I'll talk to the school counselor tomorrow. I'll tell her.
Tomorrow came, and we didn't have school. I assured them that I would tell the Tuesday. And I did.
I was called out of my third class. Tears were shed. Oh so many tears were shed. But the counselor was so nice to let me cry on her shoulder. My mom was called. Addresses of places to help me were exchanged.
From that day on, January seventeenth, it would forever be known as my last touch.
The last touch in my secret life of lies.
January 15.
Oh how I would forever remember this day. It was a Sunday. The day before Martin Luther King Junior Day. I was in eighth grade. I was six months shy of the age of fourteen. Six months and eleven days.
I was at my grandma's house. There was going to be a family dinner. Just to have one; a get together if you will. My nanny came over, and he came with her. But all was good. I wouldn't go in my room. I'd stay in the kitchen where everyone was.
My nanny got on the computer before supper was done. She was looking up Myspace layouts. I put my chin on her right shoulder, looking at then with her.And he came up behind me, disguising it as looking over her other shoulder as he reached over and grabbed my rear. I gasped.
How no one saw it, I'm not to sure. How no one heard it, that greatly confused me as well. I mean I was loud in the small kitchen. I pulled away, and went hide in the bathroom. I must have been there for half of the night.
Later, after everyone left, and my grandparents went to sleep, I crawled out from the bathroom. My heart still beating sporadically against my chest. I climbed into the computer chair and sat, tears coming to my eyes. Someone had to know.
I logged onto my favorite website, and spilled my heart out to the lovely girls of it. Everything that had happened that night, and everything that had happened since I was nine. I spilled it all out.
The advice I received. Oh how I loved all of the girls that helped me. They saved me.
And as I told them, I'll talk to the school counselor tomorrow. I'll tell her.
Tomorrow came, and we didn't have school. I assured them that I would tell the Tuesday. And I did.
I was called out of my third class. Tears were shed. Oh so many tears were shed. But the counselor was so nice to let me cry on her shoulder. My mom was called. Addresses of places to help me were exchanged.
From that day on, January seventeenth, it would forever be known as my last touch.
The last touch in my secret life of lies.