Stolen

If three words had to be chosen by Sophie\'s family to describe the young girl the words would be affectionate, loving and loyal. Of course her family only saw the one side of her, the one they had grown up watching. The other side she kept guarded away from their prying and un-understanding eyes. She wasn\'t like them ,she wasn\'t restricted by many morals and although she was only sixteen she had experienced many things they could never dream of.

Sophie lay on her soft fresh bed wearing only a short silk black nighty, head buried into the pillow, sobbing loudly. Finally she stopped crying after perhaps an hour and rolled onto her back and drew the nighty up to just below her sixteen year old breasts. With her right hand she pulled out a knife from under her bed , as she did several tears fell down her smooth-skinned face, and began to slowly bring the knife across her bare stomach. When this attempt only made a slight red mark she repeated her action , once , twice, and then a fifth time when she made a cut at least fifteen centremetres long width ways across her stomach. A wave of calm filled her as she watched a few drops of blood excape from the not deep wound, she thought about the shame she felt over the things she had done and sighed, knowing she could never turn back the cruel hands of time. She sat up and hung her legs over the left side of the bed, her nightie falling over the cut she had made. Suddenly she