SURRENDERING MY INNOCENCE!…(1)

12th January

"I love you too, baby!"

Silence.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed,"

A Giggle.

"Bye! Muah!"

Mom says, voice barely above a whisper—loud enough for my irritated ears to hear.

The cold silence rakes my entire body, making my skin crawl so horridly I wished I had all the powers like "Stretchy" to breach through the walls and slam her neck right into it. My mom had run out of her store of shame! Disgusting male-centered bitch!

Dear diary,

I pray today is any better than yesterday. I hope to tell you all about an exciting experience at the end of the day.

Yours truly,

Anna — 12-01-2010

I stash it away. My diary—faux leather, antique brown with crescent moon and Victorian lace patterns, gothic themed—deeply underneath my bed, wrapped in between layers of clothes and paper.

Perfect disguise!

It was the last gift dad had given me before the divorce. My most priced possession at the moment. Special and, according to my dad, hold some auspicious aura. With indications for likely cursed and auspicious days.

I propped up to my feet, hands folding into each other as I stare deeply into the void that surrounded the terrace just below my room window. The glass demarcation the only thing holding me back from jumping over into my own Demise.

This was the exact place I had stood, watching dad roll off his large luggage into his car, without even a peek back at me, three years ago. I was only thirteen.. The nostalgic embarrassment and feeling of worthlessness hugged me tightly once more. I recall my diary pointing out that day as a cursed day, but I didn’t accept it.

"Ana, you would be late for school again, let's go honey," mom's voice blares through the echoes of the now-empty house we inhabited in dad's absence. I roll my eyes, all the way to the back of my head. A sudden realization meeting my memory.

I yank my school bag off my bed, the single strap already curving upwardly to fit into my shoulders. A quick stop by my long-standing mirror beside my bed.

I touch up my finely packed curly hair further back into the hairband, patted dustily on my above-knee plaid uniform skirt, and pulled up my limb-long stocking, all the way to my thigh, covering the bit of skin that met the cold air.

Practice my signature smile and thumbs-up pose and was running down the stairs, shoe heels thumping loudly into the wooden stairs.

"Thanks," I say. Realizing she already had my lunch packed and in the backseat. The car seatbelt straps me in. And I'm ready to be wheeled to school.

I looked at mom. She seemed different. Makeup on, a dress on, and a dangling earrings?. She always never wore dangling earrings, a dress, or much more makeup on a regular days. My heart sank deeply. I knew what this meant.

"School dismisses at——" I try to speak. But meet interruption.

"I know, Ana, I remember. You don't have to remind me every day," she says, cutting me off, mid-speech, the remaining words sinking forcefully down my throat. I swallow hard. Blowing hot air into my clenched fist, with an exhale.

Just as we arrive school, Jordan was already waiting, hands folded behind on her her ass cheek. She has done this ever since dad left. She would wait at the entrance of school for me. Help me get out and accompany me to class, each and every day.

"Hey, Mrs. Clint," Jordan says, waving at mom, then proceeding to open the car door to me like she was my man. Mom waves right back with a flashing smile. Jordan has been my best friend since sixth form, and my support system since the divorce.

She was the only girl allowed to wear pants like the boys in school. With biceps and strong, broad arms like a guy. She had never been comfortable in skirts or dresses. Some whisper that she had an identity crisis, but I don't care. I love her just the way she is.

"So what's up with Mrs. Clint?" she says almost suddenly, teeth smacking into her lower lips, her signature mannerism. The moment mom's car rides off into a distance.

"Any new week affair or fuck buddies?" she says, a smirk lifting her chin.

"None for now," I say. My guts sending off an unusual message.

"Maybe she's thinking of getting back with my dad," I say, heaving out a deep exhale. She shrugs, her big hands flashing me.

"You know my place is always open, that's if you need a place to crash," she says, rubbing softly on my shoulder. Like that would somehow give me comfort. I nodded, yes, quietly saying a prayer.

I prayed it never happened again—mom bringing home another boyfriend and forgetting completely about me. I had had enough. No more.

Jordan goes on to speak softly about something I didn't care about. As we walked into the premise. While my eyes ran through her entire build In admiration for the opteenth time.

She was four years older than I, but somehow her face looked like a baby. I can't figure if it's because of how young her shaved head made her look or if it was the baggy, saggy pants.

She was a stud, a fancy way of saying a masculine lesbian, and only fucked girls. I had mostly wondered what went on in her head when she fucked other girls with a strap-on, acting as a guy. The thought usually left me curious and at the same time scared to find out any further.

The thought of a cold sex toy spreading my pussy always sends shivers down my spine. I would love to ask questions, lots of questions about how it felt, but it had never been a discussion between us. I always felt too shy to ask.

But then a sudden retching feeling grips my bowels. An uneasy feeling I would carry in my stomach for the rest of the day.

"Okay, Jordan, I gotcha," I say, suddenly shutting her up from all the yapping. She flashes me a smile, one that runs across the fine line on her face like she was already accustomed to this.

The school premises was lively as always with students, in our school's checkered pants and plaid skirt. , Complementing plain ash shirt, ash blazer, and checkered necktie, hanging tightly over the blazer. White stocking, making them look too serious than they should.

properly groomed and packed hair ,finely behind in bows and bands behind their ears. They walked past us in twos and threes, making eye contact at none other than Jordan. She doesn't flinch. She never does. Already accustomed to all the drama.

I was the random everyday talk of the week. They gossip about how Jordan never leaves my side. I wasn't lesbian like they rumored, but somehow they swore I was Jordan's pet, not just best friend, from how she defended me and had me constantly by her side.

The first bell came, and we hastened off towards class. Meeting a crowd of other students buzzing through the hallway, heads all above eye level.

The sound of lockers thudding and shoes screeching into finely polished marble floor serenaded the entire hallway. We managed to walk through the crowd, Jordan shoving me through by my hands.

A younger student waves at us, I figure, at Jordan, and she waves right back, a broad, quirky smile lifting her fine chin, before falling into a tongue roll and signature lip bite. I didn't realize how much they all wanted to get with a stud untill now.

Just then, I feel a strong pull on my hair, dragging me in between Jordan's arm pull and another’s.. I get caught in between, my eyes squeezing tightly from the pain that now suddenly raged.

"Well, well, look who we have here—the school's stud and her little dainty pet," someone snarls loudly, as voices re-echoes through the metallic lockers.