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One evening I was sitting at my desk with my back to the half-opened door, when I heard a voice.
"Hi." I turned to look. "I'm Megan. You're Alex, aren't you?"
She invited herself in and closed my door behind her. My God, she was beautiful! Her smile was amazing, just like Caroline's. And she squinted her eyes when she grinned. Her wavy hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that was held together by a rolled-up bandana. Her body was petite and delicate, and my sexual curiosity was aroused. All I was able to muster up for her question was, "Yeah."
"I've seen you before, you know," she said. "You're the one that always looks sad. So what's your story?"
She sat on my bed, tapping her hand on the mattress as an invitation to join her. Her openness was very inviting, so I decided to tell her everything. I'm not sure why. After all, I'd only known her for a total of five minutes. But I was awestruck the instant I turned around to see who was at my door. She was the first person I had ever completely opened up to since I had been abandoned, and it felt great. I even told her what I had planned to do a few weeks earlier. We both sat there on my bed and she listened while I told her my story. Moved by what had happened in my life, she put her arm around me as I continued.
"I was going to kill myself a few weeks ago," I said with my head down.
"What stopped you?" I shrugged my shoulders.
"That's not an answer, Alex. If you do it, they win."
Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading, I turned to her.
"So why did your parents abandon you? Were your grades not up to par, or did your Mom get pregnant and decide to sell you off?" I said sarcastically.
"They didn't get rid of me, Alex. Actually, they fought to keep me."
"I don't . . . "
"No," she interrupted, "they didn't get rid of me. They beat the living shit out of me instead."
I felt like crap. I was so naive and was so consumed with myself that I had assumed everyone who was at Fairview was a result of rejection.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why not?" she responded. "I was their punching bag when things didn't go right."
Again, I was at a loss for words. I couldn't identify with what she had gone through. Sure, my father had hit me one time, but I was never an abused child - physically, anyway.
"The day I had finally had enough, when I came here, my father had punched me in the face for leaving the phone off the receiver."
I told her right then and there how beautiful I thought she was, and that if she were mine, I'd never hit her and, in fact, would cherish her. I couldn't believe the words were coming out of my mouth, but as I said, she was so open I felt like I could say anything. Megan smiled her beautiful smile and replied, "Well, if you were mine, I'd never let you go."
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