My Worst Memory

She was a tempest with my heart, I’d only known her for two months but from the moment I saw her I knew. She would be my beginning and end. It really was the silly things that got me. The way she pulled her hair away from her face, the way she’d smile, listening to me intently and dribble down her front by mistake. Boy I was in deep, I was a total sucker for all those crumby lines in love songs that I’d cringed at before her. We had a perfect night, a meal at our favourite restaurant, the manager and all the waiters knew us by name. We came to pay the bill, and she said,

‘You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me your worst memory?’,

‘Yeah’, I pondered, ‘But neither have you’

‘Ok’, she said, ‘we’ll swap now, nothing that’s been can hurt us now, we have eachother, right’

She smiled at me

I agreed, we both started talking at once and apologised, then started again and laughed

‘Ok, you go first’, she softly whispered

I took a deep sigh

‘When I was eleven years old I was raped by a pig’