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“Those assholes will never touch you again, and you should press charges against them for child abuse.”
“I thought about it,” she said. “But I didn’t know where to begin, and I basically just wanted them to leave me alone.”
I trailed her lips with my finger and looked deeply into her wet green eyes. “You’re not alone anymore.”
More tears sprung from her eyes.
And then I kissed her. On her lips.
She stiffened and I pulled back, holding my breath and waiting for her reaction.
Her eyes lowered to my mouth and she wet her lips as if she wanted to sample the taste of me.
“You kissed me,” she said and it sounded neither accusatory nor disgusted, but rather like an observation. “Why did you kiss me?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t apologize or tell her it would never happen again, because at this point I honestly didn’t know what was up and down anymore.
Instead I hugged her tight and told her everything was going to be all right. Of course that was before I met her mother.
