They say that you never forget your first love. I wish that weren’t true but it is. For me, my first love happened during that final stretch of Senior Year. His name is Kyston and he was one of my closest friends and coworkers. He was like a brother to me, he knew all of my secrets and he was one of the few people to ever see me cry. When I realized that I liked him I was floored by my sudden feelings for him that were as sudden as a St. George rainstorm. I debated whether or not I should tell him and after I finally sucked it up and asked him if he liked me back, the answer was yes. From there we jumped blindfolded and head first into a relationship.

It was a relationship unlike any other that I’d ever been involved in. Where my previous relationships were carefree and slow paced, this one was fast and wild. Before I knew it we were doing stuff together that I’d never even imagined doing so early in a relationship. In the blink of an eye things were starting to change, I was starting to morph into somebody I didn’t know. Those who noticed this shift voiced their concerns and cautioned me to be careful not to get my heartbroken but I simply shrugged them off. We continued our relationship at breakneck speed and I was happy, happier than I had been in a long time. I had found my person, my soul mate, that perfect relationship.

That perfect relationship wasn’t so perfect. As he kept speeding along like a bright red Ferrari down the road that was our relationship he also threw up red flags and warning signs. At first I wasn’t okay with all the pushing against the boundaries that I had set. I fought to keep those walls intact and maintain the rules, but he kept pushing and pushing and eventually my walls crumbled. Tired from fighting all the pushing I decided to just relax and enjoy the ride. Again I was shifting into a person I was unfamiliar with. I was becoming this girl who actually cared about what a boy thought and what he wanted from me. I started dressing to impress him, putting time into my hair and makeup.

All that effort paid off, all Kyston wanted was me… or so I thought. All he really wanted was sex. Sex for me was out of the question. I wanted to wait until I knew the relationship would work, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every single time we were alone together he would push me for more. Always more, wherever I drew the line, he wanted to take it a mile further. I’d say no to something and the next day he’d continue doing whatever it was I said no to. After a while I was tired of fighting and as long as we weren’t having sex I was okay with what he was doing. Then came our one month anniversary and everything changed.

I remember being so excited for our one month anniversary and I wanted to make it something special. My parents were out of town so I could stay out as late as I wanted to and we didn’t have to worry about sending me home disheveled from what I imagined would be one heavy make out session. I put on a brand new dress that I had just bought that day, a cute yellow dress with a floral pattern in an adorable sixties cut that showed off the right amount of cleavage that was classy but not too tacky and made my waist look tiny. I curled my hair the way he liked it and applied a small amount of makeup, avoiding the bright red lipstick I loved but Kyston didn’t. He picked me up and we went to Sonic for dinner, we took our food and ate it in the park. After we finished eating we got in the car and drove out to the middle of nowhere, I knew what was going to happen next… at least I thought I knew what was going to happen next. We went in the back of his car and were making out… when he started to take my clothes off.

“Kyston!” I shouted.

“What?” He asked.

“No sex,” I said, “I want to wait.”

“I know,” he said as he finished to undress me. “I promise, no sex.”

With that we continued our make out session. When all of the sudden he was on top of me and I felt something enter me. I cried out in pain and pushed him off of me.

“Kyston, you promised no sex,” I warn him. “Stop it.”

“I know,” he said.” It was a mistake, it won’t happen again.”

But that was a lie. It did happen again. This time I pushed him off of me and started getting dressed.

“I’m ready to go home now,” I told him. I wanted this date to be over more than anything.

“Okay,” He said. I started to get out of the car to head to the front seat when he grabbed my arm, “Hang on, I want to try something.”

“What is it?” I said growing agitated.

“You’ll see,” was all he said. He grabbed me and slipped my panties off and entered inside of me.

“Kyston! That hurts!” I cried out, pain flooding through me. “Stop it!”

“It will hurt the first few times,” he told me and continue to have his way with me.

“No,” I sat there crying. “No, not like this. No, stop. No.”

He didn’t stop until he was finished. He handed me my underwear and started getting dressed himself. I put my underwear back on and stormed my way up to the front seat. He jumped into the drivers seat and started driving us home. I just stared out the window, a storm of emotions brewing inside of me.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing,” I spat back.

“Come on,” he said. “I know something’s wrong.”

“I’m just mad about what happened,” was all I offered.

“I don’t get why,” he said, “my first time wasn’t mad at me.”

I didn’t respond, just continued to stare out the window. When he dropped me off at my house, I got out of the car and slammed the door. I calmly walked into my house and shut the door. I was so thankful for my parents’ absence, I wouldn’t know what to say to them. I sank onto the couch and started crying. I had been raped. My “true love” raped me, and I let it happen. I knew I should call it quits right then and there, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I stayed in that relationship. I continued to let him use me. I stopped fighting off his advances for sex and just starting saying yes since it was obvious that he wouldn’t listen to no for an answer anyway.

A month later, the warning signs were getting harder and harder to ignore. I now had several people telling me that I needed to break up with him. I just couldn’t do it. I knew that we were probably going to end anyways when he left in August for the Air Force… I could delay it until then. I never imagined that he could ever think of ending the relationship. That is exactly what he did. He called me over to his house, saying that we needed to talk. Somehow in the back of my mind I knew that he was going to end it. I was just hoping that this was going to be another “don’t get so serious with me” talk. I dressed up in a way that would make any guys head turn, short dress, makeup done and cleavage showing. He didn’t care. He ended it anyway. Some stupid excuse about how he wanted to cut his ties now, but he didn’t want to lose what we had. He still wanted to talk and be friends. I told him I didn’t want to be friends, if we really were over I wanted to really be over. He didn’t even try to save our friendship.

I have a new boyfriend now, one who is everything that Kyston was not. One who cares about me and who is sweet and just absolutely perfect. But… I can’t forget Kyston. Everytime I close my eyes he haunts me. I can’t move past him. Whenever I smell the same air freshener he used in his car I’m taken back to those late night make-out sessions in his car and that one fateful night when everything changed. Whenever I smell his laundry detergent, I think of all the days I’d spend in his room laying on his bed talking and doing homework. No matter how hard I try the ghost of our relationship haunts me. I just want to forget. Is that so much to ask for?