We were pretty girls.
Pretty little girls in bright dresses with our hair all curled up around our shoulders.
Pretty little girls who were wearing high heels for the first time.
Or applying our first careful strokes of mascara.
Painting our lips red with the spare lipstick Mom keeps in her purse.
We were talking to boys and giggling. Laughing as our dads ruffled our hair and told us how beautiful we looked. Watching couples on the dance floor and sighing at their simple harmony.
We were pretty little girls. Innocent and naive.
We went to family gatherings and began to notice as the relatives talked.
"Your daughter, she's a looker that one."
"You've better watch out for her when she gets older."
"You know, if she weren't so young....."
If I weren't so young what? I am this young! Clearly it doesn't stop you from talking!
We began to notice that our great uncle who's had too many beers is looking at us funny. He won't stop staring, his gaze running up and down our bodies.
Leaning over to our parents, he mutters in what he thinks is a whisper, "she's stunning."
But who could blame him? Everyone likes pretty little girls.
We got older and became wary of the family friend who always stopped us in the halls and rubbed our shoulders a little too close. We shrunk away from their touch, then chastised ourselves. We can't be rude! The man was only being nice, who are we to be uncomfortable?
Later we found out he had been reported for inappropriate conduct towards young girls. But we always told ourselves he was just being nice.
One night, your best friend's dad is over your house. He finishes his bottle of wine and suddenly the world changes. You're a very pretty little girl.
He leans in to kiss you.
You lean back.
Maybe he's aiming for your cheek.
He's not aiming for your cheek.
He leans closer, his lips puckered up.
You run away.
But you were just a pretty little girl.
A young, innocent, naive, little girl.
They made you grow up too fast.
You were only a pretty little girl.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
Short StorySometimes we lay awake at night, thinking. Sometimes the voices in our head won't quiet down once the noise of daily life has gone away. Sometimes all our emotions feel like bursting out of our heads. That is when I write. I write to try and calm th...
