• “Jane!” I heard my name being called and decided it was probably a good idea to tune back in to the conversation. “I said, what is your biggest regret from High School?”
    I looked around at the smiling faces of my 3 closesr friends. It was the night after our Graduation rehearsal and the girls and I were having a sleepover in the living room of my aunt’s house. Well, my house ever since my mother committed suicide my freshman year. The day I moved in was the day my aunt moved in with her boyfriend, in Florida. She still pays my rent and sends enough money that I can live comfortably, but there are certain things you don’t do to a 14 year old girl who just lost her mother. And one of them is leave her alone, to fight through life by herself.
    “Brandon, kinda,” I told my best friends. They all stared at me patiently, waiting for me to elaborate on my response. These girls had barely known my name the year I was with him. So, it makes sense that I haven’t told them much about him and that part of my life. I try not to think about how helpless and confused I felt during my sophmore year. Meeting them the summer after the incident through work at our neighborhood Mcdonald’s was the best thing that could ever happen to me. They helped me to escape all the deep, dark feelings that haunted my nightmares. They helped me to forget. They even helped me to stop over-analyzing the situation with Brandon. Which means figuring out if he has helped me through life, or destroyed part of it.
    Brandon Micheal Phillips. The tan, shaggy chestnut hair, ice blue eyed, most beautiful man I have ever met in my life. Although he wasn’t a man. He was a Junior, and I was a sophomore in High School when we dated. At the time, I couldn’t fathom what he wanted with pale, scrawny, Jane Louise White. I was just so happy that someone had taken an interest in me.
    In the beginning Brandon was the model of a perfect boyfriend. He held my books between classes, gave me flowers for no reason, and called me every night. I felt like the happiest girl in the world whenever he held my hand. He was a good distraction from all the traumatic events that took place in my life just a few months before I met him. Something I didn’t realize about high school relationships was that cute boys don’t stay around when they aren’t getting anything in return. A girl who adores them, isn’t always enough.
    “Show me some tits,” he said one evening when we were making out on my couch. He knew we were the only people in the apratment, and that no one else would ever disrupt whatever it is he wanted to do.
    “Excuse me?” I asked. He was my first boyfriend after all and I was very confused as to why he wanted to see them.
    “Come on,” he coaxed. “I’ll even help you.”
    He started to move his hands up under my shirt and across my belly. I told him no, and pushed his hands as far away from me as possible.
    “No?” His ice blue eyes showed that I had hurt him, like I had just slapped him in the face. “But, why not Babe? Don’t you love me as much as I love you?”
    My heart stopped.
    “You love me?”
    “With all my heart.” He replied.
    He leaned in to kiss me and I melted into him. I was so overwhelmed with emotions. After living alone for so long, you tend to forget what it’s like to be desired. To have someone love you. I was so fixed on these lovely emotions that I didn’t even notice the draft of crisp fall air from the window crawling across my bared skin.
    After that day, situations like that panned out more and more. He would come to my house after school, we would kiss and then off would come my shirt. At the time I wasn’t very upset about this setting because I had at least one person in this world who loved me. I was convinced that Brandon Michael Phillips was the perfect boy for me! I mean, he loved me, and that meant that he was never going to leave me, like everyone else I had ever loved before, right?
    On our 6th month anniversary Brandon proved just how much of a great boyfriend he was again. The necklace I now had around my neck was the epitome of love. It sparkled whenever the light even glanced at it. I was a very happy girlfriend. Having only enough money to live on I made him a very nice card that told him about every single thing I loved about him.
    “You really love me this much?” He asked me.
    “Of course I do!” I replied. “More than anything in the world.”
    “I love you more,” he slipped out right before kissing me.
    We kissed a little more and that’s when I realized just how lucky I was. I have a boyfriend who loves me and only me. I have finally found out what it means to really live.
    As our kiss intensified on my couch I felt his hand on my stomach and I awaited its upward ascent, however, it took course in the opposite direction. I immediately broke away from him and demanded what on earth he thought he was doing. His response was of mere innocence.
    “Trying to show you how much I love you,” he replied earnestly.
    I tried to explain to him that this necklace, and him holding me was enough when he interrupted me.
    “I thought you said you loved me,” He replied darkly.
    “I do but, this doesn’t feel right. I’m not ready.” I announced.
    “Well I am. And if you really loved me then you would be too.”
    I started to panic. I loved him and I didn’t want him to think otherwise. I didn’t understand where any of this was coming from, but I knew that I didn’t want it to go away. I brought his lips to mine, and gave him a kiss filled with all the passion I could muster. He tried to break away, and I reached for the button on my jeans. After undoing it I placed his right hand on my inner thigh, and he took the hint.
    As he walked out of my house that I day I had a mixture of feelings. I now knew what it meant to feel pleasure, but that thought didn’t exactly lift my spirits. I knew I loved Brandon by the way my heart started to break when he assumed that I didn’t. However, somewhere, in the back of my head, a little voice doubted that he loved me.
    The sky grew darker, and my skin started to crawl. It was the feeling of filth, so I decided to take a long shower. Then a second. A third. A fourth, but I didn’t feel clean. No matter how many times I scrubbed and bathed, I still felt dirty. I felt like a horrible, horrible person and I knew that I should not have given in.
    We never talked about what happened that night. Personally, I thought it was over. I figured that he realized how afraid I was and didn’t want to put me through that again. However, like most things with Brandon, I was very wrong.
    We were sitting in Brandon’s car outside my house saying our goodbyes before I went inside. We got out and he leaned against the passsenger car door, looking completely at ease. He took my hand and mentioned that he had been thinking about some things. My stomach began to turn with anxiety and I asked him what those “things” were.
    “You know, we’ve been dating for a while now and I just think its about time we, you know…” He gave me a cocky smile.
    “No, I’m not sure that I do,” I relayed to him, understanding where this conversation was going, but praying to God that I was wrong.
    “Do it!” he blurted out. Then he registered my confused my face. “Gosh darn it Jane! Have sex! I want to have sex with you.”
    I froze.
    “Look, Babe, I took some of my brothers condoms the other day, and I know your house is always empty and I think now would be the opurtune moment to-”
    “Now?!” I interupted him. “You want to do it now?”
    I couldn’t believe him! I’m not ready for this, he knows I’m not ready for this!
    “No Brandon, we are not doing this. Goodbye,” I replied curtly before trudging up to my door.
    “Now Jane, wait a minute!”
    “I said Goodbye!” I yelled before slamming the door in his face.
    The next day at school I regretted slamming a door in the face of Brandon Micheal Phillips.
    He had been very short with me all day, it wasn’t until lunch time that I finally figured out why. He scolded me like a little child. I was told that he didn’t understand me. According to him if someone says they love you then that means they want to make love with you, otherwise they are being a bratty little tease.
    “I do love you,” I whispered to him, not liking one bit how hurt he felt.
    “I don’t know if I even believe you anymore. You’ve always been the best girlfriend and now you’re acting like a total b***h! Maybe, maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.”
    My eyes started to water, and my throat started to burn.
    “Don’t” I whispered.
    “What?” He replied darkly, his ice blue eyes chilling me to the bone. “I can’t hear you.”
    “Please don’t break up with me. I love you so much. I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face, and for making a quick judgement. Just please, please don’t!” I couldn’t help it now, tears were falling in earnest down my face, and sobs were racking my body with every breath. It was then that he finally came around to the other side of the table where I was sitting and pulled me into a big, comforting hug. He told me that everything was going to be okay, and now that I’ve realized what I’ve done wrong and am sorry about it that he forgives me.
    “You know, my birthday is coming up and I know you don’t have very much money so maybe that could be your present?” He suggested.
    I just nodded. Not completely sure if I wanted to go through with this or not.
    “Well, I’ll see you after class. And don’t forget, my birthday is this Saturday.” He gave me a quick kiss and rushed out of the cafeteria before I could change my mind.
    After Brandon dropped me off at my house I immediately ran to my room, laid down on the bed and started to cry my heart out. I cried because I was stuck and I knew it. I wasn’t ready to have sex with Brandon! Even though I love him deeply, a part of me knew that choosing to have sex or not should be based on how you feel. Not how someone wants you to feel. But, part of me knew, if I didn’t give it up, I would lose the one person in the world who really loves me.
    It was in times like these that I really wish I still had my mom. She always knew what to do or say to make me feel better. She would make me hot chocolate with huge marshmallows and wrap us up in a huge blanket so our feet are entwined. Her long, straight pale brown hair would fall down behind her ear and tickle my face. Then she would brush my hair that I received from her and tell me just how beautiful, smart and independent I really am.
    I picked up the little pink bear she gave me for my third birthday and hugged her to my chest, and then I threw her against the wall! How could she do this to me? How could she just take her life, without thinking about mine? Without thinking that I would feel unloved, and confused, and downright pissed off! Independent? Ha! The day dad left when I was ten years old with his secretary was the day I had to take care of her. The day she became dependent on me. The day that started all of her suicidal attempts all because a man didn’t want her.
    It was with that thought that I realized that I never wanted to be like my mom. I am never, going to let a man control my life so much that death is better than life without him. Which brought on the realization that I had done the same thing that mom did with dad, to Brandon. I was no longer independent; I gave into everything he asked instead of standing up for myself. I am no longer beautiful, my innocence has been stripped away from me and all I feel now is filthy. I am not longer smart, for if I was, I would have broken up with Brandon a long time ago. With this revelation, I now knew what to do.
    At school the next morning I decided to have a talk with Brandon, instead of prolonging it until the end of the day. I broke off our hug early and told him that we needed to talk.
    “Have you finally come to you senses about tomorrow?” he asked, hopeful.
    “Um, no. Not exactly. You see.” I felt so awkward trying to say all that I needed to and making sense.
    “Gosh darn Jane! How long are you going to make me wait?” He exploded, pacing in front of my blue locker. “I’ve tried taking it slow, and being a good boyfriend, but there is only so much I can take!”
    This time it was me who was yelling. “It’s over Brandon! We are done.”
    He stopped pacing, and his already angry face grew darker.
    “Is that how you really want it?” He asked in a controlled voice.
    I thought it over for a minute
    “Definitely,” I replied.
    “I can’t believe I wasted my time on you. You selfish little b***h!” He yelled that in my face and then stormed down the hallway.
    It was in that exact moment that I knew I had made the right decision.
    The first few months were hard. I felt sad, and alone, but I was determined to not become my mother. With all the control I had, I ignored his cruel comments when I passed him in the halls, and the many girls he tried to flaunt in front of me. I knew that I never wanted to become that weak again. It was Brandon that hurt me, but it was also him that made me stronger.
    “So when I walk across that stage tomorrow,” I told my friends, “I won’t feel any regret. Sure, I probably should, but if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. The strong, independent, smart, beautiful girl who will be graduating. And using all of high school’s lessons to guide me in the future.”