"Sixteen. That was my first time," her words sound cold and detached, as if she is trying to distance herself from memories she doesn't want to relive.
I stay silent, giving her the space to share what she wants. In every word she speaks, I feel an indescribable pain hidden beneath a layer of confidence and toughness.
"The first and only time. I haven't done it since. Yes, I've kissed guys, but nothing more. No, really, do you believe me?"
Lifting her head, she looks me in the eyes, and I see something more than just a question in her gaze—as if she is searching for something in my eyes she has been missing for a long time: understanding and acceptance.
"I've never doubted a single word you've said, baby," I say with complete certainty, because I know she deserves only truth and trust.
There is no point in doubting when you are faced with someone who has already proven their sincerity. Her eyes fill with tears, and despite all her strength, I see her inner world crumbling under the weight of her memories.
She cries again, but her breathing becomes deeper as she tries to cope with what is happening inside her.
I gently wipe away her tears, feeling how she reacts to every touch. I kiss the corner of her trembling lips, and at that moment, the silence becomes something of its own, saying more than words ever could.
"Do you want to know why I'm such a Nerd?"
"That's the first thing I wanted to know about you from our first meeting," I'm not lying. Everything about her is a mystery to me, and I want to understand what has led her to the life she is living.
At that moment, there are no more barriers between us. I feel how she is opening her soul to me, and I know that every step she takes is a step toward the real trust that, despite all the pain, exists between us.
"I had a hard time dealing with things with my mom and dad. And after I learned to read, I would lock myself in my room, cover my ears, and start reading books. My dad had a huge pile of books. It was a family collection. His grandfather started collecting them when he was young, and his son—my grandfather and dad's father—continued this tradition. To be honest, my dad didn't really need them, and after the divorce, my mom took them all because I didn't want to part with them, and my dad, as he put it, didn't need this 'dust collector'," her voice becomes a bit sharper when she speaks about her father.
It's her way of defense, an attempt to distance herself from the memories that cause her pain. But at the same time, I see how she herself strives to preserve this legacy, not letting it dissolve into the past.
"The books are still in my grandma's attic. I want to bring them here later and continue our family's collection. I would love to see my children and grandchildren reading them," her dream sounds like a bright moment amidst the dark history, a desire to continue a tradition that shouldn't disappear despite everything that happened.
I feel how important this is to her.
"And what kind of books are there?"
"It's a vast collection, from ABC books to professors' lectures. There are fairy tales, textbooks, literary stories," her eyes light up when she talks about the books.
This was her refuge, her way of surviving a world that was too cruel and incomprehensible for her. I see how she prides herself on this legacy, and it's so touching.
"Will you show them to me sometime?"
"Of course! As soon as I move them, I'll show you," her face lights up with a smile again, and I feel relieved.
I feel how this smile dispels the shadow of her past, how she is trying to look forward instead of backward.
"I don't mind helping you move them," I say, knowing that her dream of preserving the collection for future generations deserves to become a reality. And I am ready to be by her side to help her.
"Thank you."
This time, the pause between stories is longer than the others. Katrin seems to be gathering strength, preparing to tell me something more that had remained hidden until this moment.
This isn't just a continuation of the story; it's something secret, something she hasn't told anyone, and I feel how every word of hers will be important.
"There are several schools in our city, but... where I studied, there was another one nearby. I often crossed paths with a girl from that school, we even became friends. She was so bright, and her brother... he was completely different. We met by chance, and every time I saw him, my heart started beating faster."
Taking a deep breath, Katrin continues, her voice trembling slightly, but she tries to maintain control.
"I... I fell in love with him. Yes, I fell in love; at first, it was just looks, conversations, kisses. And then..." she stops for a moment, as if trying to hide her pain, but her eyes, full of longing and unspeakable sadness, say everything.
I feel my chest tightening with curiosity and fear at the same time. I know I shouldn't ask, but this silence... I don't dare to interrupt it.
"We had school dances. Guys from that school came to us. He had drunk a little, and everything went not the way I imagined. He took me by the hand and led me to an empty classroom. There... there everything changed," Katrin stammers, her eyes dimming from the memories.
There is so much pain in her words that I want to comfort her, but I know I can't, unfortunately.
But she is silent, her gaze empty, as if she is trying to forget what happened. I understand that it is best to leave her alone. I shouldn't pressure her feelings.
"Wait. You don't need to continue if it's hard for you," I don't want her to feel pressured, for her past to become a burden again.
Katrin looks at me, and I notice her lips trembling slightly, but she nods, as if realizing that I am here and ready to support her. I don't know what to do with this pain, with what she has told.
She is so open, defenseless, and it is too much...
"He was drunk. We started kissing, and he started undressing me..." she is reliving that moment again, her hands are shaking. My chest tightens, as if this story isn't just her history, but my own pain that I cannot overcome.
"You don't have to continue if you don't want to, you've already told me a lot," I can barely hold back my trembling voice.
Everything is boiling inside my chest, but I don't want her to feel my pain. For her, this is a moment of strength, and for me—a pain I don't know how to endure.
"No, either I do it now or never. I wasn't ready for this, to sleep with him..." these words strike my heart so hard that my breath hitches.
Before my eyes, I see her in that moment, I feel her fear and helplessness. And the anger that rages inside is not directed at her. I wish I could be there to support her, to protect her, but I don't know how to control time. I would give everything to save Katrin from him.
"...he grabbed me, laid me on the desk, and said: 'You belong to me, and that means I can do with you...' and then he did it."
I see how she is transported back to that moment, reliving that nightmare again. I couldn't save her. Her soul remained in that classroom where it all happened, and I don't know how to bring it back. I try to hold back, but the fury flares up; its flames overwhelm my mind.
"Did you tell anyone about this?" my voice becomes a bit raspy. It's hard, almost impossible. All I want is to step into that moment in time when everything was still whole, innocent, before it happened. But time is not on my side. My anger knows no bounds. All these words, her confession, make me feel helpless.
"Yes. His sister."
"What did she say?" my eyes watch her reaction intently, ready for any turn.
"She slapped me and said that I was a fool. That I was the one who was throwing myself at her brother like a slut, and when I seduced him, I suddenly changed my mind. And that he did the right thing by teaching me a lesson," she exhales, a bit irritably, as if those words are still ringing in her ears despite the time.
"That bitch! And what happened next? Did he bother you again?"
"No. It was spring, and a couple of months later, having finished school, he left for another city. And I continued my studies. I didn't talk to that friend anymore."
Katrin moves away from me, takes my face in her hands, and looks into my eyes with an expression as if she is looking for answers that she can only find in me.
"Tell me, what do you think about this? Who is right? Do you think I did the wrong thing by refusing him?"
"How can you blame yourself after what he did to you? He and his sister are the ones to blame. If I could, I would kill him right now. How could he even act like that with you? You trusted him, thinking he was a good guy. And instead of justifying your trust, he raped you. If a girl says 'no,' it doesn't matter at what exact moment of intimacy, it means 'no.' And there cannot be any other meaning for this word."
I look at her with such fury that remembering what she went through is like stoking a fire in my chest. How could that scoundrel do such a thing? How could he think he had the right to her body after she trusted him? I cannot hold back. This is not just anger, it's a real rage tearing me apart from within.
"Thank you. If I had met you, and not him, at that time, I am sure that this would never have happened. You really are a very good guy," Katrin hugs me, and I feel her words burn me no less than the evil fire I felt before.
But in her arms, there is something sincere and alive that allows me to let go of this inner anger at least a little bit. I hug her back gently, trying to pass my warmth to her, to comfort her at least a little.
"Why did you push me away today? Did the memories of that day come back?" I feel the words getting stuck in my throat, but I need to understand what exactly made her distance herself. I must find out what was the reason for this distance between us. I cannot leave this unsaid.
"Yes and no. I was ready for our first time, honestly. Although I think it's too fast—to sleep together on the fifth day spent together."
"I also didn't think I would get so worked up. But I wasn't going to do anything by force, you know that, right?" I try to reassure her that none of my actions will traumatize her. In her eyes, I read worry, and I want to remove it like a bad dream so she can feel safe next to me again.
"I know. I was scared by a phrase you said," the girl looks at me with detachment, but there is something indefinite in her words that makes me worry even more.
"Which one? I said a lot of things to you in the heat of passion. You don't think so, I can repeat them now. I am not one of those who says things only when they want to sleep together, and then pretends not to remember what they said."
"You belong to me."
"I hadn't finished, actually," I interrupt her thoughts sharply, not giving her a chance to drift into her reflections.
"Yes? And what did you want to add to such an unusual phrase about ownership?" she looks at me with bewilderment, her eyes widening as if she cannot believe what she just heard.
"I belong to you," I repeat, trying to say again those words that I didn't manage to finish, "These are exactly the words I didn't manage to finish before you pushed me away. I just wanted to say that we belong to each other and can do whatever we want with each other. I didn't mean anything violent. I was talking about kisses, touches, caresses."
"Sorry. I misunderstood you," Katrin is confused, and I feel how her fear of what might happen still keeps her at a distance.
I look at her, deciding to give her the choice. I take her face in my hands and gently move closer. My lips are just a millimeter from her lips, and her breath touches my skin, creating a tense silence between us. We look into each other's eyes. This is her moment—to continue or to stop. And I am ready to accept any answer of hers because what matters is not what I feel, but what she decides.
She chooses the first, and she kisses me.
Her kiss is warm and cautious, as if she is afraid that by pressing too hard, she might cause pain. It is full of emotions, in which I feel apologies and tenderness.
This kiss is her way of saying "sorry," but at the same time—"I am here." I answer her, and with every moment, I feel how we are becoming not just close, but something much more. I gently kiss her back, trying to convey that I will not cause her pain, but will protect her.
When we break away from each other, I feel how hard this is for both of us, but she quickly glances with a look full of mysterious confidence.
"So, should I go or stay?"
"And what do you think?" her smile is such that it warms me immediately, showing that she is my Rebel Girl again.
"I guess, go," I try to play my part and stand up, pretending that I am really going to leave. But she cannot let me go that easily.
And here her hand firmly wraps around mine, and with a strong pull, she draws me back, and we fall onto the bed. The girl is relentless in her feelings, and I feel how her kiss becomes more and more passionate, confident, and full of love.
Today was a hard day, but it is precisely because of this that we learned to understand each other on an even deeper level. I realize that behind her external strength, something incredibly fragile is hidden that deserves protection.
And now, when we are so close, I know that our bond has only become stronger.