• "I don't want to do this," I said hesitantly. That made him angry, I could tell. But he held back from getting violent.

    "It's nothing. You should enjoy it. Have some fun! I'm perfectly fine with this and... I'll take you shopping with the money. I promise," he repeated.

    I had already taken a strange pill that he gave me. I didn't know what it was, but when I had taken it in the past, it made me feel... different. And that's all I craved at this point in time. It would make me feel numb and by the time I was sober again, everything I had done under the influence of this pill would seem like a faint dream.

    "...Okay." I got out of the car and walked up to this house that I had never been to. The man in the doorway was older than me, a shady, trashy looking character, but my... boyfriend knew him somehow. And so I trusted him enough to go inside his empty, dark house. I didn't fear for my safety. I didn't think about what I was doing. I didn't think about anything.

    This man led me to a blank room with a single bed and an old dresser with a TV on top. At this instant. three things came to mind. 1) Were my parents going to find out what I was doing? No, they were at work and assumed I was at some park with my boyfriend as always. 2) What did this man want? At least I knew there were some things I WOULD NOT do for him... but what difference does that make? 3) I want to feel sexy. Why do I want this man to think I'm sexy? Why do I want to impress him?

    I didn't know. Before I knew it, though, I was numbly, quietly... shamefully committing an act that I had said only whores and prostitutes commit. But what was the difference between me and them? Nothing. I was having intercourse with a man I didn't even know. For a "boyfriend" who wouldn't care for me at all, even though I was doing this for him.

    It seemed like an eternity of guilt and useless effort before I was back in my boyfriend's car. The man handed him a handful of cash through my window and walked back towards the house. My boyfriend smiled slightly, though wickedly. He drove me home. I remember him not even wanting to kiss me goodbye after what I had done.

    That night, I was silent. Partially because I was still feeling side effects from the pill I had taken, but mostly because I was disgusted. With myself. 13 years old. Having sex for money. Money for my boyfriend. A boyfriend who would sell my body for drug money and abuse it himself otherwise.

    This is a shameful moment I will never forget, even though I was manipulated into it by an evil (to say the least) person.