I lay in my bed thinking about my life, what I had achieved and failed. The hearts I had broken and the lovers who had shattered mine. It's sunny outside; I am allowed to be optimistic aren't I? I am allowed to be happy. I reach out and let the sunlight caress my skin, my hand feels warm now. It's a shame my heart isn't. I sound bitter, but I am not, I'm disappointed. I have been waiting to exhale, and yes I am still young but how could I have reached 21 and never felt love. The real love? The one we were read to as children, the one Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty do not have to search, far and wide for. No guy has ever told me they love me. And no, I do not look like an ogre; I think I am quite attractive. I have been told I am beautiful before, but never those three words. The words as a five year old girl I used to dress up too in a wedding dress and imagine someone telling me. 'I love you'. Act like a woman, think like a man. Isn't that what everyone is screaming about these days? It's not acceptable to be a simple housewife. That's not what men want; they had to ruin the game that we women had been playing for years. The roles have changed, men are still in charge, but now successful, ambitious and strong women have the power. The bimbo heyday is over and done with. Hello, 'Miss Independent'. I was never that girl. The girl who accepted being in the back seat, I always tried to show strength even when I didn't feel it. I have built this pretence and I hide my feelings, the truth. Who would respect me if they knew? The real me. That's what everyone does, no one actually shows their real self. Why let the world judge and evaluate you? That shit would hurt. It's much better to have this person, a fake, to hide behind so no one can get close enough to hurt the real you. It's okay to lie to others, white lies are socially acceptable. Mine is just a big, fat white lie. But as long as it doesn't harm anyone, it’s okay. I look in the mirror and softly wince at the latest bruise on my cheek. It's raining outside. Chapter One "Stacie, are you ready yet?" As I glance at my reflection in the mirror, my mouth quivers into a smile, surprisingly I was not disappointed. I am about 5'4 but my lean legs make me look taller, my dress suits my hour glass figure well. I feel beautiful. At sweet sixteen, my innocence was fading every day. Last month, Harvey my amazing boyfriend had taught me how to make him; you know 'orgasm' with my hands. And just last week he put it in my mouth, he told me 'That's the second best way to make him love me' I bet you can guess the first. I can't stop smiling into the mirror, my hair is curled perfectly, and it cascades over my shoulders. I have spent hours reapplying my makeup, experimenting with rainbow coloured eye-shadows, deciding I looked a fool and wiping it off and starting again. I love make up, it makes me feel pretty, it enhances what I have and turns me into a work of art. I remember when I was younger I had put on so much mascara it stung my eyes and the whole day I walked around my secondary school like a panda. That doesn't happen anymore and definitely not tonight. Tonight is going to be perfect. I am going to lose my innocence forever, I promised Harvey. I am going to fuck on prom night. "Stacie, hurry up! We are going to be late." Harvey shouted, I ran down the stairs. He whistled. "You look beautiful Stace, quick my dad's giving us a lift" He grabbed my hand, hard and pulled me into the car. I adjusted my hair. "Can I go back into the house quickly babe, I think you have pulled my hair out of place."

"No, leave it, it’s fine" He signalled for his dad to pull off and lit a cigarette. How the hell did I go from beautiful to just fine so fast? How did beyond pretty change to visibly acceptable in the blink of an eye. I wasn't happy. He could do that in a second. He could make me feel worthless but I wouldn't ever split up with him. Who wants to be single and go to prom alone?