I was thirteen when I found out...

*Trigger Warning, some may find this hard to read*

People may think I’m a slag or whatever, but I lost my virginity at thirteen years old, I didn’t want to, but was emotionally blackmailed into it.

Before I tell you the story, I’ll tell you about the boy that made my heart feel something, something much more than lust. It was actually love. I always considered myself as a lesbian, as I had a few girlfriends, but anywho;

I moved school it was September time 2013, I was thirteen, it was different from the last of my schools as I went to an all girls school beforehand, and then I had to move to a mixed school. Both males and females present at school. I met this guy, he seemed so sweet, so sweet that I became close friends with him, he warmed my heart up like no one had before, he made me feel loved, perfect, sexy... I know I was only thirteen but it was a new experience for me. We met on Tuesday 10th September 2013, that date is printed at the back of my hand, as well as our first kiss and the day he made me do something that would change me. He was fifteen. You’d think he’d know better not to mess around with me, especially knowing that I was thirteen years old.

Many call this situation statuary rape, but I? I don’t know what to call it. Saturday 4th January 2014, a couple days before he messaged me through via Facebook, telling me that he wants to have sex with me. I told him that I would like to wait until the time is right... and then he went in with the emotional blackmail also used the photos I had sent him as blackmail. I didn’t want any of my indecent photos to go anywhere, I definitely didn’t want my older sister to see. I pleaded with him that I didn’t want to, but he continued his game. Told me if I didn’t do as he says he’d slit his throat.

Saturday 4th January 2014, I was pure, pure, innocent even, until roughly around 19:28P.M. he took my virginity, and me being me, I just laid there, taking it, no protection, just my jeans and underwear down to my ankles. He was done after fifteen minutes. I went back home. I sobbed for awhile until I felt numb.

Days before my fourteenth birthday, I had discovered that my period was late. I was scared. I was scared of my parents reactions because I felt like that I’d also shame them, just like my sister did as she got pregnant at fourteen and had my nephew at fifteen. Weeks passed, morning sickness was horrendous, the smell of foods were revolting, my boobs hurt. Then... Saturday 24th April 2014 changed. I miscarried my little life... fourteen and in this pain. I refused to tell anyone. But this year I finally had managed to tell my family that I miscarried my little life, my little girl, I always knew that I’d have a little girl.

I never went to the doctors or hospital to see her as I was too ashamed of myself because of my age. But I never thought I’d go through that alone because no one was home. It took a massive toll on me. And to this day now that I’m eighteen, I’m honestly scared to have a baby just in case miscarry again. Just watching pregnancy shows makes me feel really sad, and depressed that I don’t have my baby girl, she would’ve been four this September.

I’m sorry that this post is too much. I just feel so alone.