I learned how to keep my mouth shut when I was six years old and Peter shoved dirt in it.

I learned not to chew my fingernails when I was seven and Mike said he wouldn't hold my hand.

I learned not to wear my brother's coat when I was eight and Aaron sniffed it.

I learned not to fight during recess when I was nine and Bradley knocked out a baby tooth.

I learned not to cry to my mother when I was ten and Nathaniel wouldn't play with me for a week.

I learned not to wear tight shirts when I was eleven and Quinn would snap my training bra.

I learned not to smile when I was twelve and Lucas already had straight teeth.

I learned not to scream when I was thirteen and David pushed his tongue into my mouth

I learned not to talk when I was fourteen and Samuel said he would kill me if I did.

Since then I have realized that I am composed of blood and alcohol and drugstore lipstick. I have destroyed my body at the expense of a kiss and have spent too many days climbing out of someone's window. But I have learned how to say no.

We will spit in your face.