cole anthony

This love ballad goes out to, Cole Anthony. We dated when I was thirteen and you were ninteen. We kept it a secret and yes, it was illegal, but did we care? No. I remember how we meet, here's how it went:

"Cole, this is my friend, Melissa and her daughter -- sorry honey, what's your name?" Your mom asked.

I didn't care if she knew my name, I didn't even know her's and I didn't want to. I didn't want to get to know your mom or you. And I don't regret meeting you, because I don't regret anything to be honest.

"Her name is Mackenzie," my mom answered for me.

Thank God, she did. I didn't want to talk to you or your mom.

"Well let's go get our tea started," your mom, Cathy said.

"Okay, Kenz? Take Cole to your room," she said. "And don't do anything."

My own mother doesn't trust me. She thinks I'll have sex with a guy, but she still allowed you to come to my room. Why? Because my mom is also a slut. She hooked up with eighteen guys in the past two weeks, but that's not the point.

"You're pretty," you said as we walked up to my room.

"Thank you," I said trying to be polite.

I didn't want my mom to be upset at me, I cared. I cared what she thought of me, I really, really did.

"So your names Kenzie? Wanna play twenty four questions?" You asked.

"Um, sure?" I said sounding confused.

Because I was so fûcking confused you have no idea. I felt like I was sitting in my two hour algebra class... I hated you! I thought I was your 'baby!'

"You know how to play, right -- you know, -- considering you're a slût," you said.

I held back my tears. "Yes, I do."

"Okay, me first," you said. "How old are you?"

"Um...I'm thirteen."

"I'm eighteen," you said smirking at me. "I'll be nineteen in three days. I'm gonna have a party, maybe you can be there and give me a little surprise and be you know 'freaky?'"

"Um, I don't think so," I said feeling  violated, as a girl, as a human. "My turn. Question two, favorite color?"

"So lame," he said. "But, blue?"

"Mines pink."

"Cool, question three: where's your dad?"

"In jail."

"Oh."

"Question four: favorite sport?"

"Soccer, yours?" You said looking down at my chest area.

"I don't do sports," I said pulling my knees to cover my chest and putting my head in between.

"Question five: are you a virgin?"

"Yes."

"I can change that."

"Get out!" I shouted and getting up.
"Get out! Get out! Get out! Get the fûck out! Now! Leave!"

"Cmon, babe!" You said and grabbed me and pulled me onto my bed. You sexually harassed me. "We're dating, and this is a secret or I'll kill you. I'm not even kidding."

I fûcking hate you. I was only thirteen. And this is how we broke up:

"Your boobs aren't big enough for me, I've found some other girls. I don't need you anymore," you said.

"Fûck you! I am not a toy, I'm a human being," I shouted.

You died five days later..you fücking deserved it, you cùnt!

This was the anniversary for your death, fúck you! To Cole Anthony, the rapist.