I told Joe that my friends and I were going to a party we’d heard about. He said he would try to lose his girlfriend and come with us. Part of me was feeling nervous because I knew where we were going, a house with no adults and three bedrooms. I knew that if I went I would be pressured into doing something that the real Annika didn’t want to do. But angry Annika didn’t give a fuck and she seemed to be the one in control.
It turned out not to be a party at all but one guy with a carton of beer. I didn’t drink. I didn’t like the taste of beer and Mum had always said that it was for commoners. We sat in this guy’s house for about an hour before my friend Kerry said there was a spare bedroom upstairs if Joe and I wanted to be alone. She said we would be able to talk and have some privacy. The old Annika would have told her to fuck off and mind her own business but self-destructive Annika didn’t say a word in dispute. Joe asked me if I wanted to. I wasn’t used to being asked. I wasn’t used to winning arguments and I wasn’t used to my ‘no’ meaning anything. So I said yes.
We were on the bed talking when he started kissing me. I could feel his dick growing. He ripped my clothes off and I helped him do it because I was sick of fighting it.
Teenage boys have not changed over time—there is a thick blurry line between fantasy and reality. Boys will tell tall sexual tales about how far they got with a particular girl, yet the truth is always far less eventful. So a kiss on the cheek quickly becomes a passionate all-consuming face suck, which then becomes a boob grope, to a sticky finger and on and on it grows. This was the case with me—people had heard about my near miss long ago in the car when I was eleven. After numerous retellings, I had become a wanton Lolita who seduced grown men. It seemed that to deny the rumours just breathed new life into them, so tonight I was going to confirm them once and for all.
I don’t remember even seeing his penis. He put it in me and I told him to stop because it was hurting. He wouldn’t stop.
It was all over in two minutes.
It was not the beautiful experience my mother had described. There were no kisses, no passion and definitely no warm afterglow. Was that sex? The thing that the adults and big girls in school raved about? I didn’t understand it, it was painful and I didn’t want to have anything to do with it, ever again. I assumed that sex was a pleasure for men and not women.
I had been used as vaginal masturbation by a boy I barely knew and absolutely didn’t care about. I thought Annika is officially a whore! was printed across my forehead. Previously it was assumed that my virginity was long dead by every neighbour, customer and school kid alike but now the vicious rumours had come home to roost.
Guilt tormented my sleep that night. Why had I not shared this most intimate experience with Ben? He had been my boyfriend for nearly a year. He had always shown me tenderness and compassion and he held a certain reverence for my virginity. I was embarrassed to admit a part of me felt if it had been him, would that have been the last I saw of him?
I flew to Sydney and was met with lots of hugs and kisses from Grandma and Grandpa. They were Mum’s parents and were in their late seventies. They barely spoke English and I barely spoke Dutch. They seemed happy to see me but to them I was the problem child and they were the saints who were going to straighten me out.
For as long as I had been in Australia Grandma and Grandpa had lived in this magical house. It had a creek in the back, a national park at the end of the street, views all the way to the ocean and a street full of kids my age. As a family we shared Christmas cards with all the neighbours but I was pen-pals with two of the kids in the street, Alison and Glen.
Glen was about a year older than I was and he came over to welcome me. His parents were very wealthy and, as a result, he was very spoilt. He said it was great that I was staying in Sydney and that we were going to be the best of friends. He said he was tough too and if I wanted to wag school he would come. I instantly realised that my reputation had preceded me, extending outside the family to all the neighbours and even filtering through to the children, but as warning or amusement, I wasn’t sure.
As I was unpacking my gear, Glen pushed me up against the bed, fumbling to kiss me. I told him to get off me and that I wasn’t interested in him, but he wasn’t listening.