A/N: This story is based on my life, although the names are very different.


She sighed softly as she looked at the computer screen. Another story about it. Did they know what it was like, or were they just letting the words flow onto the paper. The fear, the anger, the helplessness... But she knew what it was like. She knew what it was like to be abused like that. Not to the extent that the people in the stories did, but she knew all the same. Her cousin had done it. It still scared her when she thought of what had happened, and the fact that she would be seeing him that summer. The tears started to well up in her eyes, but she blinked a few times and they went away.

She didn't want to cry again. Not again. If she cried again, the people she called her parents would see her. They would hear her sobs, and they'd make her life shit. So, she kept it all to herself. And to her friends. They knew. At least, the few who she knew wouldn't tell.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again, her brown eyes not reflected in the monitor of the computer. She closed out the window. She didn't want to remember anymore. She wanted to forget again. Just let it all go. But no, that wouldn't happen, because she couldn't. If she forgot about it, it might happen again. That was something she dreaded so much that it hurt to think about it.

How could her cousin, her own cousin, sexually abuse her like he did? It hadn't been much, maybe only twice, but she could still remember it. She had blocked it out for so long... had he done more then she thought he had? She really did know, and was sure she didn't want to know.

Rose went to her room, closing the door behind her. The girl rarely went into her room, but when she did, she sometimes cried. Or wrote. Her father had seen a poem she had written, and he had gotten worried. So now, she had to write in secret.

She sat down on the bed, her nightgown under her, twisting around her. She shook her head, straightening it, before picking up the pencil and paper. And then, she wrote. Tears fell from her eyes as she wrote the poem. It was the truth about what happened to people when they did that they did. The people who made fun of others, that is. And the results of what happens then.

A few tears spilled onto the paper, but no more came. She would not let them. She looked at her hands. Her palms were already red from what she had done. She remembered vividly how she had turned the shower on, and stepped in, gasping at the pain. She slowly got used to the hotness, then turned the temperature of the water up more. 'I can't feel my skin...' she remembered thinking.

Rose had burnt herself that way. She had promised not to cut, so she didn't, even if it was so tempting. She laid down on the bed, staring out the window at the cloudy sky.

"Please Goddess, help me... What did I do to deserve all this? What did I do to deserve all the pain? What did I do that was so wrong? Please, help me... Please Goddess..." She pleaded in a quiet voice as tears started to make their way down her face. She closed them, clutching her hands, ignoring the pain when she did so.

She silently asked herself those questions over and over. What had she done that was so wrong? What had she done... She would never know the question. Then she thought about him. John, her boyfriend.

She was surpassed to find a smile forming on her face, memories coming to mind. It had been nearly two months since her friend had asked him out for her, without her consent. She had had no option as to weather or not she was going out with him, but she would have said yes all the same.

Rose slowly drifted off to sleep, her thoughts entirely on him. He had saved her, and had helped her through so much. He was her savior, and she never wanted to let go of him.

A/N: This is basically ending up as my diary with different names... *shrugs* I'll write more soon, I hope. Really need a place to vent, in all truth. I think I'm guna end up adding a few things to it, and it'll be fun to write... Romance, fantasy stuff... fun ^^ Blessed be everyone, blessed be.