It's been 28 days since it happened.
And I'm still yet to forgive you.
You hurt me in ways that are indescribable.
You robbed me of my innocence.
And of my first kiss.
I'm still mad.
Yet no many how many times you try to talk to me,
I won't reply.
I won't answer your texts.
Or bother taking your calls.
And all of the voicemails you sent are still sitting in my inbox.
Untouched.
It's been 28 minutes since you walked by me in the hallway and cat called me.
At school.
Maybe you're not thinking straight.
Maybe you're thinking with your 'little' head.
Not your slightly bigger one.
You're disgusting.
I hate you.
I never use the word hate,
but in this case I must.
What you did was wrong.
I don't care how you see it.
It was wrong.
I could go to the police.
I could tell teachers or high authorities.
But I won't.
I've tried.
They don't believe me.
And still, the thought of you in burrowed in the back of my head.
It's never going to leave.
And in 28 years,
I'll still remember your name.
Your face.
Your voice.
Your smell.
Your touch.
Your unwarrented touch.
All I have to say is,
I hate you.
You're disgusting.