"Sixteen years old. That's when I had my first time," her words sound cold and detached, as if she is trying to shield herself from memories she doesn't want to relive. I stay silent, giving her the space to share what she wants to. In every word she speaks, I feel an indescribable pain hidden beneath layers of confidence and toughness.
"My first and only time. I never do it again. Yeah, I've kissed guys, but nothing more. No, really, do you believe me?" She lifts her head and looks into my eyes, and I see more than just a question in her gaze—it's as if she is searching for something in my eyes that 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 nothing but 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 can see her inner world crumbling under the weight of her memories. She cries again, but her breathing grows deeper, as if she is trying 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 in that moment, the silence becomes something of its own, speaking louder than words.
"Do you want to know why I'm so smart?"
"That's the first thing I want to know about you from the moment we meet," I'm not lying—it has been 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 can feel her opening her soul to me, and I know that every step she takes is a step toward real trust, which, despite all the pain, still exists between us.
"I had a hard time dealing with everything that happened with my dad and mom. After I learned to read, I would lock myself in my room, cover my ears, and start reading books. My dad had a huge collection of books. It was a family heirloom. His grandfather started collecting them when he was young, and his son, my grandfather, continued the tradition. My dad didn't really care about them, to be honest, and after the divorce, my mom took them all because I didn't want to part with them. My dad called them 'dust collectors,''" her voice grows slightly sharper when she speaks about her father. It's her way of protecting herself, distancing herself from memories that cause her pain. But at the same time, I can see how much she wants to preserve that legacy, not letting it fade into the past.
"The books are still in my grandma's attic. I want to bring them here someday and continue our family's collection. I'd love to see my children and grandchildren reading them," her dream sounds like a bright moment amidst all the darkness, a desire to carry on a tradition that shouldn't disappear, no matter what has happened. I can feel how important this is to her.
"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 as she speaks about the books. They are her refuge, her way of navigating a world that is too cruel and incomprehensible for her. I can see how proud she is of this legacy, and it's incredibly touching.
"Will you show them to me someday?"
"Of course! As soon as I bring them over, I'll show you," her face lights up with a smile again, and I feel a sense of relief. I can feel how that 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 there to help her.
"Thank you."
This time, the pause between her stories is longer than the others. Katrin seems to be gathering her strength, preparing to tell me something greater, something that has remained hidden until now. This isn't just a continuation of her story—it's something deeply concealed, something she has never told anyone, and I can feel that every word she is about to say will carry weight.
"There are several schools in our town, but... the one I attended had another school nearby. I often crossed paths with a girl from that school, and we even became friends. She was so bright, but her brother... he was completely different. We met by chance, and every time I saw him, my heart would race at the sight of him."
Taking a deep breath, Katrin continues, her voice trembling slightly, though she tries to maintain control.
"I... fell in love with him. Yes, I fell in love. At first, it was just glances, conversations, kisses. And then..." She pauses for a moment, as if trying to hide her pain, but her eyes, filled with longing and indescribable sadness, say it all.
I feel a tightness in my chest, a mix of curiosity and fear. I know I shouldn't ask, but the silence is heavy, and I don't dare interrupt.
"At our school, there were dances. Guys from that school came to ours. He had been drinking a little, and things didn't go as I had imagined. He took my hand and led me to an empty classroom. There... everything changed," Katrin hesitates, her eyes dimming with memories. Her words carry so much pain that I want to comfort her, but I know I can't, unfortunately.
But she falls silent, her gaze empty, as if she is trying to forget what has happened. I realize it's best to leave her alone. I shouldn't push her feelings.
"Wait. You don't have to continue if it's too hard," I say, not wanting her to feel pressured, to make her past a burden again.
Katrin looks at me, and I notice her lips trembling slightly, but she nods, as if understanding that I am here and ready to support her. I don't know what to do with this pain, with what she has shared. She is so open, so vulnerable, and it's too much...
"He was drunk. We started kissing, and he began to undress me..." I manage to say, barely holding back the tremor in my voice. My chest is boiling, but I don't want her to feel my pain. For her, this is a moment of strength, but for me, it's a pain I don't know how to endure.
"No, if I don't do it now, I never will. I wasn't ready for it, to sleep with him..." Her words strike my heart so hard that my breath catches. I can see her in that moment, feel her fear and helplessness. The anger raging inside me isn't directed at her. I want to be there for her, to protect her, but I can't control time. I would give anything 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 whatever I want with you...' and then he did it."
I can see her reliving that moment, going through that nightmare again. I can't save her. Her soul remains in that classroom where it all happens, and I don't know how to bring her back. I try to hold back, but the fury is overwhelming, its flames consuming my mind.
"Did you tell anyone about this?" My voice is slightly hoarse. It's hard, almost impossible. All I want is to step into that moment in time when everything is still whole, innocent, before it happens. But time isn't on my side. My anger knows no bounds. Her confession makes me feel helpless.
"Yes. His sister."
"What did she say?" My eyes fix on her reaction, ready for any turn.
"She slapped me and called me a fool. She said I was the one who threw 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," Katrin exhales, slightly irritated, as if those words still echo in her ears despite the passage of time.
"That bitch! And then what? Did he keep bothering you?"
"No. It was spring, and a couple of months later, after finishing school, he left for another city. I continued my studies. I stopped talking to that friend."
Katrin moves away from me slightly, cups my face in her hand, and looks into my eyes with an expression as if she's searching for answers that only I can give.
"Tell me, what do you think about this? Who's right? Do you think I was wrong to refuse him?"
"How can you blame yourself after what he did to you? He's the one to blame, and his sister too. If I could, I'd kill him right now. How could he even act like that? You trusted him, thinking he was a good guy. And instead of honoring that trust, he raped you. If a girl says 'no,' no matter at what point during intimacy, it means 'no.' There can't be any other interpretation of that word."
I look at her with such fury that remembering what she has gone through feels like stoking a fire in my chest. How can that scoundrel do such a thing? How can he think he has any right to her body after she trusts him? I can't hold back. This isn't just anger—it's pure rage tearing me apart from the inside.
"Thank you. If I had met you back then instead of him, I'm sure none of this would have happened. You really are a good guy," Katrin hugs me, and I feel her words burn me just as much as the fiery anger I feel before. But in her embrace, there's something sincere and alive that allows me to let go of that inner rage, even if just a little. I hug her back gently, trying to convey my warmth, to comfort her even a little.
"Why did you push me away today? Did the memories of that day come back?" I feel the words catch in my throat, but I need to understand what makes her pull away. I have to find out what causes this distance between us. I can't leave it unsaid.
"Both yes and no. I was ready for our first time, honestly. Though I do think it's too fast—to sleep together on the fifth day of knowing each other."
"I didn't think I'd get so carried away either. But you know I would never force anything, right?" I try to reassure her that nothing I do would ever hurt her. In her eyes, I see worry, and I want to erase it like a bad dream so she can feel safe with me again.
"I know. It was something you said that scared me," she looks at me distantly, but there's something uncertain in her words that makes me even more anxious.
"What did I say? I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Don't think I'd forget them. I'm not the kind of guy who says things just to get what he wants and then pretends not to remember."
"You belong to me."
"I didn't even finish what I was saying," I interrupt her sharply, not letting her drift into her thoughts.
"Oh? And what exactly did you want to add to such an unusual phrase about ownership?" She looks at me with confusion, her eyes widening as if she can't believe what she has just heard.
"I belong to you," I repeat, trying to say the words I haven't been able to finish. "That's what I didn't get to say 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."
"I'm sorry. I misunderstood you," Katrin falters, and I can feel her fear of what might happen still keeping her at a distance.
I look at her, deciding to give her the choice. I cup her face in my hands and gently move closer. My lips are just a millimeter away from hers, and her breath brushes against 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 whatever answer she gives, because what matters isn't how I feel, but what she decides.
She chooses the first option and kisses me.
Her kiss is warm and cautious, as if she is afraid that pressing too hard might cause pain. It is full of emotions, and in it, I feel both an apology and tenderness. This kiss is her way of saying "I'm sorry," but at the same time, "I'm here." I respond to her, and with every moment, I feel us becoming not just close, but something much greater. I kiss her back gently, trying to convey that I won't hurt her, that I will protect her.
When we pull away, I feel how hard this is for both of us, but she quickly glances at me with a look full of mysterious confidence.
"Should I leave or stay?"
"What do you think?" Her smile is the kind that instantly warms me, showing that she is my Rebel Girl again.
"Guess I'll leave," I try to play my part and stand up, pretending I am really going to leave. But she can't let me go that easily.
And then, her hand firmly wraps around mine, and with a strong pull, she draws me back, and we fall onto the bed. She is relentless in her feelings, and I can feel her kiss becoming more passionate, confident, and full of love.
Today has been a hard day, but because of it, we have learned to understand each other on an even deeper level. I realize that behind her outer strength lies something incredibly fragile, something that deserves protection. And now, as we are so close, I know that our bond has only grown stronger.