Creative Writing: Grow Up

HE STARED at me, not apologetically.

"You're not the girl I planned on . . . "

"Ick leeb dick?" I finished mockingly. He smirked, wind disrraying his messy hair. Maybe my face gave the impression that I had taken the situation lightly. Believe me, it was anything but light hearted.

"You could be the one, though," he said suggestively. "American chics are fine too." His eyes trailed down the body, disgusting me.

Oh god, he's that type of guy.

The ones who didn't care who the girl was as long as they got what they wanted.

"But I'm not," I said almost in tears. I held my neck with my hands, feeling violated. "No one touches me without my permission." My eyes remained downcast, a lump forming in the back of my throat. I've never allowed

I hated those words.

If I so desired, my father and my brother, Michael, would be after this guy. All I expected from him was an apology instead of a Grow up. Since when did growing up mean approval for random people touching you without your consent? It practically screamed rape, sexual harrassment, assault, and other forms of disrespectful behavior towards another human being.

On my way back to my dorm, I caught a few figures making out or breaking up. Lies, cries, screams--I expected better relationships than one night stands and hook ups. Actually, I wanted to see a relationship like my parents' in real life, but those days were gone.

Dad and Michael always advised not to trust teenage boys.

They were totally right.

Mum said one of those jerks would steal my heart.

She was heartbreakingly

I took the bow out before adjusting Coco under my chin. My eyes closed tightly before my right hand started playing one of Beethoven's compositions. I narrowly improvised it at varying points to present some freshness.

Soundproof walls encompassed all dormitories.

I relieved myself of the stress endowed upon me by an inconsiderate stranger.

What I had read and learned about boys in today's generation was true indeed. He needs his physical needs satisfied and afterwards, he'd move on to another girl. The cycle continues until he'd old and wrinkly and ready to die. Until then, play around. That's how society had become. People didn't have hearts especially boys. I had my heart secured in a cage, unknowing that no one would ever go after it.

And I thought Vienna would be different.

At the end of my secret solo, I decided I'd avoid any more interactions with that guy.

Well, with any teenage guy.

"Hey," Heather staggered inside the room, her cheeks tinted pink. "I'm drunk. I threw up on the guy I was dying to kiss. My life sucks. So goodnight before I start puking again." She kicked the door shut behind her and leaped on her bed, tugging on the covers.

I marveled at her state, curious where she landed herself with alcohol.

She just said her life