The Death of a Virgin: A Tale of Spiritual Awakening

“for as it is not one swallow or one fine day that makes a spring, so it is not one day or a short time that makes a man blessed and happy.” -Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics, 1098a18)

“You hide behind your disguise and use it as an excuse, but I know you as you are, and love you for what you have been.”

Part 1:

Chapter 1

Most of the moments in her life were happy. They were filled with independent thoughts of glory and accomplishment. She believed she would be a novelist, an executive, and even at one time, a woman of the law. These dreams of hers were much more than dreams. The majority of her life thus far had been dedicated to turning these dreams into realities. She was grateful to have the opportunity to mold her life into whatever she desired. And mold she did. Like putty, those around her gave into her every whim. Unknowingly, yet willingly, they followed her every word and were charmed by her every touch. She knew that the way to someone’s heart was to care, for every person longs to be seen and loved.

She had a passion for life and for all that was living. With every heartbeat, she bled droplets of gold. Excuses were not something she understood, unless it was for others. There was no room for error in her mind, there was no room for inadequacy or complacency. Eve had to be better, not for herself, but for everyone around her. We were one entity, in her eyes, which choose to identify ourselves separately. She felt the love coursing through her veins. It was rather apparent that this love was recycled energy. She felt connected with the Genius, the inquisitive, and the renaissance men of Time.

She exuded a quiet confidence, usually commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Her gentle warmth drew others closer. The flecks of gold in her eyes told stories of compassion, the deep pools that encompassed them rumored wisdom, and words full of hope and love cascaded from her lips. Her sun-kissed skin glowed with health and vitality. Her movements spoke of freedom and her laugh echoed eternal youth.

Eve never did anything maliciously. She loved for the sake of loving. She gave for the sake of giving. She embraced for the sake of providing someone the comfort she had lacked as a child raised in this unforgiving world. And she forgave knowing that we all shared the same fate. Always seeing the whole, love flowed freely; she treated others the way she was usually not treated.

She was a bit careless with men, though. She wooed them, as they desired to be wooed; coy glances, slight smiles, pressed lips under enticing eyes. The mystery was there. She spoke to no one of her most inner thoughts, in fear that they wouldn’t understand. She pulled them close; just close enough to create the illusion that they were near, deep inside. Then she tore their hearts out by the thread she had meticulously tied around it. They never seem to mind, she thought. All of what Eve did ultimately was for the greater good. Men were too confident of their role in society. They loved their own way. They only pretended to love the way that women asked to be loved for the sake of survival. A little pain never killed anyone, she hypothesized. It would make them stronger, more loyal, and ultimately more honorable.

They should feel the pain of the women they hurt, the women that were sacrificed for their momentary pleasure, all in exchange for a stroke of the ego. She hadn’t been hurt before, she was too smart to get caught up in a web of lies, but someone had hurt the woman that meant the most to her. This, with her unwavering deepened sense of empathy, rendered her unable to let go. Vowing to teach men what their mother’s and society neglected to teach them, she set forth.

Too smart, she thought. Yet, it was a heightened sense of awareness, and a seemingly impenetrable wall, that kept her prospective suitors at bay. Romantic love was something that she didn’t understand. Admittedly so, she concluded that she was not to enter into a relationship until she did. From what she had experienced and seen, romantic love was full of jealously, pain, resentment, disloyalty, and lies. The lies, however, were not so much told between the partners, but to others.

“Yes, we are a happy family — Of course we love each other and would never cheat — Don’t worry about the negative things I say, or my emotionally abusive behavior, we are truly meant for each other — Ignore the bruises on my arms, my husband loves me.”

She saw them every day, in every form, in every way. She detected these lies from an early age. The people who surrounded her were at least twenty years her senior, but she was sure that the level of self-denial that it took for them to live their everyday lives eroded their maturity level. Society told her to respect the sanctity of marriage, yet most of her friend’s grew up in single parent households. On the contrary, most of the youngsters raised in traditional households she found to be obnoxious, egocentric children with no moral compass or respect for boundaries. She couldn’t imagine what their parent’s taught them about respect for the opposite sex by the way they’d interact on the school playground. Sexualized and/or demonized, their perspective about the other was marginalized… and it dictated the very essence of growing up. There was no realm for expanding consciousness when such values were solidified at such an early age.

Of course, Eve enjoyed the company of the male form, and for this she hated herself. She wished it was different, but there was no denying the inherent need for their attention. It wasn’t for the sake of fitting the status quo; in fact, she basked in the fact that she was the complete opposite of it. She was eighteen and a virgin. Yet, when she’d dream, she would dream of a person she could confide in, someone who not only understood her, but also understood completely. There was a level of comfort that had been missing for a while. There was a part of her that she had wrapped up in a pillowcase and tossed aside, along with shrapnel and a grenade. Recovery wasn’t an option, she soon found out, for every choice she made was dictated by a nagging obsession to find that piece of herself, peel off the blackened shreds of cloth, pick out the shards one by one, and elegantly place it back into the gaping wound which she had kept in secrecy. Had she told herself her own secrets, she possibly wouldn’t have ended up here. Had she realized that there was a callous building around that crevice in her soul, she would have approached it all differently.

Chapter 2

Most nights she slept alone. It was only when the comforting smell of Jack and Coke and the sweet stench of Jager called her name that she ventured off into the night. She would slink her way past her better judgment to find some sort of solace. She always found it in the most unfortunate ways. Thrilling as it was, she gravitated towards her anger, because resentment was far too much of a burden to bear. Had she loved before? Yes. Yet, Aiden’s insecurities caused him to question his self-worth resulting in him denying love of any kind. Betrayal by an ex-lover left him with an open wound. She only wanted him to heal. But deep down, she loved him for still loving Rose. If he could ever love her the way that he loved his Rose even now, their love would be legendary.

But that faded. Not quickly or painlessly, but it did. She wasn’t the type to sit around and wait to get hurt. She pulled the trigger first and became ice cold. What Eve began to realize far too late was that love eroded the soul just the same as the lack of love did. Him healing was as guaranteed as she being able to heal herself. Had Eve realized that it would break her if Aiden ever loved her the way he loved Rose, she might have stood a chance. Instead, she questioned if at such a ripe age there may only be room for one great love in a person’s heart, not because of lack of time, but based on lack of resources. There was only so much energy that one can devote to another before they are left with a gaping hole like the one she valiantly carried. Yet, hers was not of her choosing. Possibly she held more contempt for those who made the choice to give their hearts away. Had Aiden not chased Rose, had he let her go, he would have had an opportunity to live a life full of possibility. Instead, he followed his path of insecurity and resentment, which devoured his essence before he reached his 30th year. Aiden’s problem was of no concern to her now, though. She would never find herself in his position; she knew how to handle infidelity. Although, she was not ready for an all-encompassing love to open the gates of hell, and then forget to close them shut behind him as he walked out of her life.

Nathan was the type of man who wasn’t loved by his father. He was a small boy, disguised in a wolf’s corpse. He had torn the creature open with his bare hands and hollowed it out in order to wear his head as a mask and his fur as a sheath. He was brilliant, enlightening, and utterly captivating. Charm was not one of his qualities; instead he lured Eve in by mystery. He shared thoughts with her that mirrored her own. Her frustration, her anger and secret grief was all brought forth when around him. She was allowed to feel. For the first time, she felt human. Like a magnet, he drew it out of her. And there it settled, on the surface, conjured up whenever he was near.

Chapter 3

And it bled. It bled into every aspect of her life and there it found a home. She no longer was herself, but a carcass of the former Eve, with an innocent child cowering inside. The structured life that she had created for herself gave way to sex and alcohol, frivolous spending, and an addiction to how it made her feel. She had already lost it all before she met Nathan. Life wasn’t as lustrous, and possibilities no longer seemed endless. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t able to tame Aiden, causing her to doubt the certainty she had carried in her back pocket all along. Possibly it was her newly found disbelief in true love’s ability to conquer all. Or possibly, she realized that even nonromantic love, the purest form of love, could be shattered. Even worse, that it could be manipulated and controlled by the jealous, adulterous, and selfish kind of love that she strained to avoid all along.

And yet, it had inserted itself in her life. With the man she loved… and with the family she honored. For the first time, Eve saw the choice for evil. For the first time, she was exposed to self-mutilation and self-destruction. She didn’t understand it, so she hated it. Why anyone would choose to be unhappy was beyond her capability of comprehension. She hated the petty game of self-pity and she began to hate the ones who chose to lend themselves as pawns to its game.

Nathan gave her an outlet. He guided her towards learning how to be a stronger person. He taught her how the scar tissue around her gaping wound could extend past it and possibly engulf her whole body. He taught her how to turn her back on those who had turned their backs on her, and even on those who hadn’t. He taught her hate and contempt. He taught her how to choose to be selfish and to see things from only one perspective, hers. Nathan narrowed her lens, and focused it on him. Compassion and empathy were soon gone. There was no room for either in this new body. She couldn’t let anyone hurt her. She couldn’t let anyone else in. Except for him.

He owned her. He claimed her. She couldn’t keep away. She was addicted to the sense of release she felt with him. Together, they had no boundaries. They lived outside of the realm of society. They studied philosophy and politics. Analyzed each passerby and labeled them all sheep. What at one point characterized humans as endearing, now was seen as weakness. Their ignorance was no longer entertaining and harmless. Their ability to be manipulated was no longer seen as a tool to be used in helping them help themselves, but a danger leading to our demise. Two battered, broken souls using each other to alleviate the pain, to forget the callousness of the world. Instead of mutilating themselves, they mutilated each other.

Chapter 4

It started fairly carelessly. There wasn’t any original intention to cause each other pain, but Nathan wasn’t the type to feel hurt and not retaliate. At twenty-one, he had lost his virginity to her. Yet, she wasn’t interested in making him her one and only. Her faith in relationships deceased when the relationship between her and her mother suffocated in the trunk of the car driven by Eve’s abusive father. Between that and Aiden’s inability to let her love him, she lost hope completely. She didn’t respect Nathan’s virginity, because when it came down to it, she didn’t respect her own.

A well-kept trophy mounted on her mother’s living room mantle was the only thing that she could destroy without breaking herself. And God… God had lied to her all along. God wanted her to be a virgin, God wanted her to be a good person, and God wanted her to put her full trust in him. And she had. She had done all that he had asked. Eve worshipped him as the daughter of a catholic missionary, praying the rosary in Spanish as a novelty in front hundreds of devout English speaking followers, knelt at the foot of a bleeding crucifix erected in the middle of a local cemetery, and even turned the other cheek and displayed unwavering empathy for those who tortured her at school at an age when humility and a loving nature was confused for conceitedness and weakness.

……………….