You could have turned away when your intuition pricked. You could have rounded the corner and avoided the boy leaning coolly against the wall, quirking an eyebrow over your fourteen year old body. You could have moved on; gone home. You could have left the raging party and snuggled down into your own warm bed with the pink sheets.

But you didn't. You went over to say hi.

You could have shook your head as he pressed his sixteen year old body against yours, pinning you to the wall. You could have shut out his sweet breath and husky voice. You could have refused the drink he wrapped into your warm little hands. You could have pushed him away. You could have told him no when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

But you didn't. You nodded your head and bit your lip. He was cute. He had never noticed you before. You did like him.

You could have run when he started to lead you upstairs. You could have pulled your hand away and gone home. You could have stopped it all.

But you didn't. You kept going, your little heart beating faster with every step.

You could have said no when he hung over you, his warm body over your own. You could have pushed those hands away; those hands that roamed and ravished your soft flesh.

But you didn't. He said you were his girlfriend. He promised it was okay.

You could have woken up to find him next to you. You could have smiled at him and kissed him and told him you loved him. You could have heard him say it, too.

But you didn't. You woke up cold and alone, feeling dirty and sick. Your stomach churned and your head spun. You sat there, wrapped in the lily white sheets as he came into the room and told you he didn't want you anymore.

You could have held strong and blocked out the pain. You could have held your head high and said it didn't matter. You could have not let it shake you. You could have been strong.

But you weren't. You cried and gasped for air in your laboured lungs. You felt your little heart break in two. You ran from his house.

You could have run home. You could have thrown yourself into the waiting, soft arms of your mother. You could have cried and broken down in her arms. You could have let her build you back up and mend your broken heart.

But you didn't. You ran past your house, your bare feet plodding along the frozen earth. You ran and ran until you reached the beach.

You could have sunk down in the sand and cried your little heart out there. You could have yelled and screamed and thrown the sand in the air. You could have cursed the boy who hurt you.

But you didn't. You didn't stop. You climbed up the cliff.

And as you stood at the edge of the cliff, salty tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, you could have thrown his name to the wind and sucked in a calming breath. You could have stopped yourself and told yourself it didn't matter. You could have not let it shake you. You could have not let him get to you. You could have been strong.

But you didn't. You kicked at the dirt with your bare feet. You sobbed. You sucked in your last cold breath of air. You felt yourself buckle at your knees. You felt weak. It did matter. It hurt so much.

You could have turned away from that cliff, but you didn't.

You jumped. You wanted to mend your broken little heart. You wanted to end the suffering.

You could have not let it shake you. You could have not let it stop your hopes and your dreams.

But you didn't. You let it beat you.

You were the little girl who jumped into the deep end too quickly.

You were the girl with all the potential who had it slip away.

You were the girl who lost sight of her dreams and let a boy hurt her.

You were the little girl who grew up too fast.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review. I'd love to hear your thoughts and any constructive criticism.