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I can't tell you what it'd be like to crush something or someone without you having to do it yourself. Even I, the disintegration that has taken place within me is not something I could just "explain". No accumulation of words and exclamation marks would do the pain justice. You'd just have to live it. You'd have to feel your knuckles pounding into her skin. You'd have to feel her bones bending beneath yours. You'd have to see the tears in her eyes reflecting the devil horns atop your head and your halo turning to fire and embers that fall upon her hair and singe her little being. You'd just have to see it for yourself. You'd just have to feel it for yourself.

You don't ever grow up knowing you'd be an abuser, a killer of dreams and imagination. You don't grow up knowing you'd nearly murder a soul without even having to kill them officially. I didn't grow up getting hit or hurt. My parents were mostly normal people. We were well off, not rich, not poor. We rested comfortably at the top of the middle class. We had everything we needed, got what we wanted in time so that it felt exciting. But we never understood poverty to its fullest, nor did we fully understand the rich who could pay for their live's perfection like buying bread at the grocery store.

I had two older brothers and two younger sisters. We we were pretty independent kids. We loved our parents, our house, our yard. Everything we had we mostly loved. There was the occasional creak in the floorboard that would drive us mad, or bathroom door that would get stuck and would require a necessary tackle to get it open. But, generally speaking we were happy.

Enough about my parents, Charles and Emma, and my siblings, Lucas, Samuel, Christina, and Jenna. They're not important to the story. Neither am I really. Truthfully speaking, this about a then fourteen year old girl who moved from a farm in Florida to the tip of south side of the city in Illinois. Bridgeport, Chicago.

At the end of the 2012 school year, my junior year, a little girl walked past my geometry class, mid test. She was sun kissed, golden brown skin as smooth as ever. Not an inch of her skin wasn't tan, no white lines or sun burn. Just perfectly toasted to perfection. She had long, thick, straight hair tied up tight into a high ponytail. The little strands dusted below the small white, velvety cropped tank top that just barely covered her belly button, which was holding a small dangling, silver belly button ring. Her matching white, velvety shorts pulled up high, yet oh, so perfectly short. But to tease the whole thing to perfection, a light gray, thin cardigan dangled off her shoulders and slouched down onto her inner elbows. Her white, high top converse and light gray socks with detailed scalloped ends poking out carried her feet down the hall between what looked like her Mother and Father. But I didn't pay too much attention to them, they aren't very important. Just her.

Her silver, diamond earrings caught the sun and sparkled when she turned her head to look through the window of our classroom door. She caught me looking intensely at her every move and she smiled a small, wicked smile that I would later come to understand was her wild invitation into her devilish mind. But she was such an angel. Her bright white teeth parallel with her bright, sun reflecting clothes that seemed to sparkle against her skin. Her glowing highlighter upon her cheeks and down her perfectly proportioned nose, heavy in golden reflects.

She carried her body down the hall till she disappeared and my groin burned with desire. So much so that that test was an absolute fail for me. But despite the irritation it brought me that year to have actually failed at something, it turned out to be one of the best things that could've happened to me.

After a three month summer of bowling, beach strutting, underage drinking under the city bridges, and city wandering with my main group of friends, I found that I was very lonely among every one of them who had a girlfriend grilling them to go on dates with them or to fuck them when the night turned dark and cool. I didn't see her again. That glowing goddess of a girl with a body that was on the cusp of becoming something so indescribably woman and wild. Curves just beginning under those little fabrics, hips just beginning to widen. It made me stiff. I only thought about it every so often throughout those summer days. But that fall to come turned me into an absolute addict.

August 2012 was a blur of school supplies shopping and my Mother going through my things to try and decipher what I really needed and what I didn't. I spent those last few days drinking and partying as much with my friends as I possibly could and trying to avoid every shopping day that my Mother laid out for me to get new clothes before the year commenced. When it was all said and done, the summer was a success as all others had been. I walked into the halls of that school a new man, a senior, ready to begin my journey into manhood.

I found myself looking for that girl, the golden, angelic one. I didn't see her among the bodies of other dull, dark students weaning in and out of doorways and hallways looking for something to do with themselves and where to go before the bell scattered each rat into a new hole. When I hadn't found that particular person, I wandered into my first class of the day. It would be the sophomore teacher of last year for the geometry class I had failed when I spent the rest of the test session dreaming about annihilating her. There, there in that room, with all the other little ones lay a beautiful little glass winged butterfly sitting upon her chosen seat near the window in a middle row.

Hair just as long and healthy as before. Skin just as golden brown and glowing as before. Her make up light, airy, beautiful and illuminating. She was wearing jean shorts pulled up to her belly button with a black leather belt and a white cropped T shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was let down so that it was falling all around her face and little body. Body, which had significantly made its improvements over the summer months. She was wearing pristine white high top Vans with white socks poking out underneath. She had her black leather backpack beside her feet on the floor on the outside of the aisle. Her black iPhone stuck out from the back of her pocket and she sat there, sitting up straight watching everyone intently who walked into the room. Occasionally, she shifted her attention to the outside windows to catch the trees swiftly blowing in the breeze, or cars rushing and honking at one another down the city streets.

She noticed me when I walked in. Navy blue eyes piercing my soul when I stepped through the door way and headed in her direction. I took the open seat behind her, it was the only open seat around her. Surrounded by other boys who probably wanted to take a crack at her code. But something in the way she looked at me made me feel as though I was probably the only one who could.

"Hello," I said leaning forward toward the back of her from my desk. "I'm Leo."

She didn't turn her head fully, but over her shoulder she told me her name.

"Hi Leo, I'm Mila."

And so, the obssession began.

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