This is my story continued...my boyfriend.

I had a boyfriend too. Michael. Ughhhhhhh. Sometimes we had problems. I think at this point, we had already screwed up a lot. Sexual notes found by his mom. She never told. One did get taken up at school, though. They told my mom when she came to get us. She didn't tell me. Not when I saw her right after school. No, but I knew she knew. She had this look. She smiled, I played along, but I knew. We both did. And we palyed along. This, I remeber, wasright before Valentine's Day 2002. She had a "talk" with me that night. I came to hate those talks, and there came to be very many. We didn't get to have Valentine's together. He had half a dozen roses sent to the school. Lots of people do that on Valentine's Day here. But I was always loaning him money. And he couldn't pay it back because of the flowers. He never payed me back. But I don't care. I lost more important things than money. So, the note was just the beginning. Before we started having sex, which was just the next month, he snuck over. That was actually before the note. I think so, anyways. We didn't have sex...well, not that kind of sex, anyways. And even before that, it was trouble for hickies. Twice, I think. And it was always stuff like that. Lies. I lied for him because he lied to me. He never had to lie. But he always did. I still don't understand it. We had started out as friends. imagine that. This 17 yr. old boy, who had failed 7th grade and gotten into trouble in middle school for giving kids his ritalin. One of his friends had almost died. And this guy was reaching out to me. This has been a year and a half ago. The beginning of my tenth grade year, 7th period, history. He was interested in my sister at first. But he was also becoming friends with me, I guess. I was scared. No one had ever reached out to me before. I had lost the friends I thought I had in middle school. I let them go. Then, I spent my entire freshman year secluding myself, slipping back, devulging myself in solitude. I think I got depressed. I just stayed in my room. I'd cry. It was so stressful with my little brother. My mom didn't want to take responsibility. My sister was only about 12. I was 14. I was older. I didn't want to turn my back on him. He was just so helpless. But it was so hard. Sometimes I would be so angry. I don't want to admit it, but I was mean to him sometimes. I mean, not abusive. He would bite me or pull my hair or pinch me or scratch me, and I admit, I would pop him harder than I should, more than I should. But I didn't kow. I mean, he'd cry. It's terrible. I cry about it. So I don't think about it. It was wrong nad I feel so terrible now. But it was all on me. he was almost the same size as me, I'm really short, he was strong. He would bite, he'd grab my hair by both hands, wind it up, then he'd bite. And I'd just be trying to help him, trying to take care of him. No one saw that. No one understood. No one cared. As long as he was being taked care of. i'd yell at him. Most of the time he'd laugh. He didn't understand. He doesn't know. He doesn't know hate, or depression, or anything like that. He doesn't know anything but love, unconditional, and fear, that's all. He knows pain. When he'd hurt, he'd cry. And it was so sad, he looked so helpless. And I wouldn't know what to do. I was 14. Taking care of a 12 year old that is just a baby. With all these needs. All these special needs. What could I do? Or he would be mean. He'd be so mean. I loved him, he didn't understand the good I was trying to do for him. He just might not like what I was feeding him, or might not want to get out of the tub. Or, not want to go to sleep, or might be sleepy...or maybe he even missed his mom. It makes me feel like shit now. But I couldn't see this then. I busted my ass taking care of him. I had no example to follow.

I'm almost 17. But I was just a little girl. I mean, I didn't know. Why couldn't anyone have just helped? It's because they're all assfucks who don't give a fuckabout anyone but themselves. Mom quit her job because she was being harassed everyday. She stayed gone. Who could blame Jerica? She was just 12. My dad. Oh, he lived an hour away. But so what? So fucking what? That was his son too. But, now it's like he was mine. I mean, I've got this aggressive 10 year old. He has all these problems. I feed him, change him, give him his medicine. And mom was such a bitch. She is still. I don't love her. Sometimes I feel like I hate her. That is a very common feeling around here. But, how was I supposed to handle it? What was I supposed to do? Well, so that was then.

Michael stepped in. It was so weird. I couldn't even look at him. I was afraid for him to look at me. I couldn't laugh. I was afraid to smile. I didn't know how to act. Things just how I had tried to warn him, didn't turn out how he said, or how he wanted, but after I told him, they turned out how he thought. So, that was only a week or two. Maybe in the beginning of September. It was through September. I never thought any thing of him except a friend. For once. He was like a skateboarder. How weird. I had all these hidden cuts on my arms and legs. He had on vans and black label. Then, I guess he figured something was wrong, because he wanted to help me. It was all about me for once. I had this journal. I'd write anywhere from 3-20 pages a day or night. I gradually wrote less and less. I never wrote about him. I always fancied someone would read it. Like I'd trust soomeone to read it, so it's like I wasn't even really myself there. So we became friends through September. Then through October. Well, actaully, he was still trying to get my sister as a girl friend, so he must have started talking to me about her around September. Yes. Becuase we were going to dress him and his friend Adam up like girls from Halloween. But it was definately over before Halloween. I remember becasue he and I and Adam and Wesley went and rolled this guy's yard. He had all these huge trees and by the time we were finished, you could not see the guy's house. So, right after that, into November, we started hanging out alone. He had this big genius idea that he was going to see if he could turn me on.