It didn't hurt. That was all I could think of for days; it didn't hurt: having sex didn't hurt. If anything, it felt too damn good to be true.

He had said I looked like an angel; a dark, long haired, pale beauty with naturally dark red lips and vibrant blue eyes.

And then he dumped me. His reason: he wanted Madison, the drum major's little sister. She was the ideal angel: bleach blonde hair, pale green eyes, and peach colored lips. She wasn't stick thin, pear (nor apple) shaped but had a body not nearly curvy as mine. She parades around the gym locker room in her new, thirty-two in A-cup bra and bikini-cut panties. My new, thirty-six-inch B-cup bra is so much cuter.

But, here I lay… hymn-less, cold, and bitter… staring at the headboard of my bed, at the crimson walls… at anything… just trying to forget that I wasn't a virgin anymore. I was numb; I couldn't find any light at the end of my tunnel. He used to be the light at the end of the tunnel. And now… and now, he's gone.