There are lots of historical issues. Like my parents are devout Catholics and members of the Opus Dei. I am not exaggerating, your born a virgin you die a virgin. The church is there for you and you become a nun. I was watched all my life, I went to a very conservative Catholic girl's school, many many of the girls there went on to become nuns. All my childhood pictures have me looking like the Virgin Mary. In the eleventh grade I was sent to an even more conservative boarding school in Florida to become a novitiate. I got my bra, ordered from a store in that specializes in clothes for nuns. I had to wear that and a camisole every day, and a heavy shirt that completely hid that I had boobs. My mother bought my panties and I wore a conservative skirt. My hair was cut just above my shoulder and I had to wear a hair band to keep my hair in place. I was untouchable. I never dated and I memorized passage after passage of catechism and the bible.

Except that in Florida, I had gone with this other girl who was there for the same reason to buy bread at this bakery. At the bakery were two girls, dressed in shorts and halter tops, with colored bangs and tattoos on their backs and legs. They did not have on a bra and their boobs all but came out of their tops and their nipples stuck out hard against the fabric. This one girl kept looking at me, she had purple hair and she walked over to me and touched my boob and asked what I was saving it for. She bent over and let her boobs out of her top and held them up to me and said 'these are tits, let me see what you have'.

We tried to pay, but she stopped me and demanded to see my boobs. Her friend held me from behind and they opened my shirt and pulled up my camisole and bra and exposed my boobs in the store. She said that there were men who would pay a lot of money to have 'those tits flashed in their face'. I managed to cover myself up, but the girl with the purple hair kissed me on the lips and wouldn't let me go. She took my hand and put it on her boob and asked me if that felt good, because it felt good to her and she wanted to fuck me. I finally broke away but not before three or four more kisses and her following us and telling me I was going to be her girlfriend.

We walked back to the school, they followed us. She would be there when I walked to class and she left a note for me under a planter on the commons, sometimes it was a drawn flower with a message that she had picked me, other times it was a love poem or love lyrics from a song. The school was open campus and she would sit and watch me go to class and show me when she would leave a note under the planted box. If she caught my eye she would blow me a kiss. I dreamt of her every night. I would hold the pillow against me at night and dream of being kissed again. My mid term grades went way down, close to failing, every time I saw her all I would think about was how she was going to come and rescue me.

One day the note she left me asked if I really was virgin. I wrote and answered that note, and when I saw her I showed the note to her and left it where she left the notes for me, under the planter box. My note was 'yes I am a virgin, I am supposed to become a nun' and on the second line, 'what's your name, I want to pray for you'. We exchanged notes, our names, how old we were, she told me she worked at this bar, which later if found out was a strip bar, she told me that since she met me all she could think of was showing me how much she loved me. I answered and said I thought I loved her too and that I wanted to be rescued.

The next day she walked passed me and looked in my eyes and whispered 'I love you'. When I got to the end of the walk and had to go into the building I turned and she was standing where we exchanged notes and she mouthed 'I love you' again and left me a note under the planter box. It was instructions of where to be, at what time, and to wear something that didn't have any colors so I would blend into the night. I acted like I got undressed but I went to bed with pants and a shirt on, and waited until one a.m., I got up, put my feet in my shoes, took my small bible with me, and escaped out the back door and met her at the corner she had told me to be. She was with a man. She put a hoodie over me and they walked me to a car and I escaped with her. We went to her apartment and they cut my hair and colored it, I got some other clothes to wear, clothes that fit more what she did than a nun and she told me that her friend was going to drive us to Philadelphia where her mom lived.

We posted a letter from Georgia to my parents, I told them I would be OK, to pray for me, but I wasn't going to be a nun, I had run away and they weren't going to be able to find me. That night we escaped together, me from that school and she escaped from that life with the help of her pimp. She never went back to that life, and I never became a nun. I am an artist, I paint, we live in the bay area in California, she works for the Child Protective Service. I have several tattoos, and I am not embarrassed to tell her I love her in public. We blend in. We contacted my parents after we moved to California, well after I was 18. They don't pick up the phone now. I pray for them, but I know that they don't pray for me.