The First One

A short story on 'losing' your virginity. Or having it taken.

I was in love with him. I thought I was in love with him. He was quiet; mysterious. He hid in the shadows. And he was an artist. I was 14, he was 15 and his future career was set: he’d work from home, as an illustrator. Like a family friend he admired. We used to come up with art projects, set a deadline, and gift each other what we’d created.

Hold on, this came later. At the start, it wasn’t so good. He was rough with me.