She should have run. She should have screamed. Instead, she stepped forward, barefoot onto cool moss, and felt for the first time in her life what it meant to be truly seen—and truly wanted.
“To stay pure. Untouched. No boy’s hands, no late-night secrets, no wicked little thoughts before sleep.” lisey sweet pure taboo
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
She was seventeen, pure in the way only someone sheltered could be—hair in a braid, cheeks dusted with faint freckles, a collection of pressed flowers hidden inside a dictionary. She believed in good manners and quiet evenings. She believed her uncle when he said the basement was unsafe. She should have run