Until I Met You

Dear Reader, Thank you for picking up Until I Met You! This story holds a special place in my heart, and I’m thrilled to share it with you.

Before you dive in, please note that this book contains mature content, including explicit sexual content and themes of sexual assault, emotional abuse, victim-blaming, depression, and trauma. It also explores intense psychological struggles, parental neglect, and toxic relationships. Some scenes may include strong language and depictions of violence.

Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you or someone you know has experienced sexual violence or struggles with mental health, please consider reaching out to support organizations in your area.

If you choose to continue this book, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your comments mean the world to me and help me grow as a writer.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the journey!

CHAPTER ONE

“FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED.”

I lean against the confessional booth, my body trembling as silent sobs rack through me. The words feel heavy on my tongue, and yet they spill out in a desperate whisper. I hate my life. I hate everything. Do you know the kind of pain that comes when you long for something deeply, only to have it ripped away? When your closest friend takes the one thing you treasured most? It’s a suffocating ache, a gnawing emptiness that refuses to leave. I feel weak, pathetic even, for letting it all happen.

“What troubles you, my child?” the priest’s voice filters through the lattice, calm and steady.

I bite my trembling lip, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. Where do I even begin? My thoughts spiral back to memories of my family—warm, fleeting moments now tinged with bitterness. But where are they now? They turned their backs on me.

A Few Days Earlier

“I’m so proud of you, Ariel, for finally becoming a sister in the church!” Leslie beams, her voice almost too cheerful as she sits beside me at the dinner table.

I glance at her, offering a faint smile. “I’m not a sister yet, Leslie. I’m still in training.” Her flair for exaggeration never fails to amuse me. 

Tonight, we’re gathered in the dining room, a rare family occasion orchestrated by Dad. It’s his way of celebrating my progress. His smile is unusually wide, his pride practically radiating across the room.

Truth be told, I’ve always preferred a quieter life. I’m an introvert by nature, content with simplicity. Unlike my peers, I’ve never sought the spotlight or craved the chaos of social gatherings. My father, a deacon in our parish, couldn’t be prouder of this. Respect for the church and the fear of God have been our guiding principles for as long as I can remember. Socializing, parties, and anything frivolous were never part of our lives.

“I’m glad I never got caught up in the wrong crowd,” I muse quietly. I’ve never had a boyfriend—never wanted one. It wasn’t just a matter of principle; no boy ever showed interest in me, and I was fine with that. In high school, I was shy and unassuming, the kind of girl who faded into the background. Leslie, on the other hand, thrived in the spotlight. She always had admirers and boyfriends, embodying the ‘it girl’ persona with ease.

After graduating two years ago, I made the bold decision to join the Sisters College, setting my heart on a life dedicated to God and the church. It was a choice that brought me peace, a step toward my dream of becoming a nun.

“My baby girl is going to be the first sister in this family,” Mom says with a proud smile. “And you kept your virginity. That’s something to celebrate.”

“Virginity isn’t the only thing that makes someone fit to be a sister, Mom,” Leslie interjects, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe not, but it’s a good foundation,” Mom counters with a chuckle.

“When do you leave again?” my cousin Alexa asks.

“Tomorrow,” I reply softly.

Alexa is different—a stark contrast to Leslie and me. She adores the things my parents despise: designer clothes, expensive parties, and boys. Dad sees her as a bad influence, someone unworthy of our family’s values. Her presence at our table tonight feels like an anomaly, but no one dares to disrupt Dad’s celebration.

The evening is filled with lighthearted conversation and the kind of mundane advice only parents can give. Their pride is palpable, and for a brief moment, I let myself bask in it.

The next day, I leave home to return to the place that has become my sanctuary over the past year—the Sisters College. As soon as I arrive, Mother Superior greets me with a kind smile and news that fills me with nervous anticipation. 

“Tomorrow, you will take your first vow,” she says. “Celibacy, honesty, and a commitment to serve God and the church.”

Her words echo in my mind long after she leaves. This is the beginning of a new chapter, one I’ve longed for. Yet, deep down, a shadow of doubt lingers, a question I dare not voice: Am I ready? 

When I reach my dorm, a modest room I share with another sister, I sit on my bunk bed and begin placing my belongings back where they belong. The rules here are strict—no phones, no personal distractions. They believe such things pull us away from our divine purpose.

I leave my room and walk down the quiet hall to the communal telephone, the only link to the outside world. Picking up the receiver, I dial Freddie’s number.

“Hey, Freddie,” I say softly when he answers.

“Ariel!” His voice immediately lifts. “What’s up? It’s been forever.” 

Freddie has been my best friend since elementary school. We’ve stuck together through thick and thin, all the way through high school and beyond. Despite not seeing each other in over three years, we’ve kept in touch whenever I’m granted phone privileges. Freddie is like a brother to me—or at least, he was. I’ve always trusted him, confided in him, leaned on him.

“I’m fine. How are you?” 

He sighs. “I’m good. I’ve just missed my best friend. What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. I spoke with Mother Superior today. I’m taking my vows tomorrow,” I tell him, a nervous excitement lacing my voice. 

“Yeah, I miss you. And when was the last time we saw each other?” He pauses, then chuckles softly. “Truth is, I’m really glad you’re finally becoming a sister in the church. It suits you.” 

I smile at his words. “Thanks, Freddie. That means a lot.” 

My parents don’t know about Freddie. They made strict rules when we were younger, forbidding us from having male friends or boyfriends. If they had known about him, they would have put an end to our friendship immediately. But Freddie has always been special—someone I couldn’t imagine letting go. 

“Are you back from Florida?” I ask. 

“Yeah, I’m in Georgia now,” he replies. 

“Okay. I’ll drive to your house this weekend when we’re allowed to visit family and friends. Maybe we can spend a few hours together before I head back to school.” 

“That’d be nice,” he says, and I can hear the excitement in his voice. 

I remember our high school days, especially prom. Freddie asked me to be his date, and I said yes without hesitation. He was the first person to ever call me beautiful, and I believed him. For a while, I had a crush on him, but I kept it to myself, afraid it would ruin our friendship. Then came the day he told me he had a crush on Aida, the school’s most popular girl and Leslie’s idol.

I hated her. She bullied me relentlessly, tearing down my confidence with every chance she got. And when Freddie told me he liked her, it felt like a betrayal. 

I cried in the school bathroom that day, cursing her name and wondering why I wasn’t enough. 

But I moved on. I looked in the mirror and decided to let go of my anger and jealousy. I turned to faith, realizing my path was meant to lead me somewhere higher, somewhere free of such earthly pain. Freddie and Aida dated for a while, but she eventually dumped him for the school’s new heartthrob.

On the weekend, I keep my promise and drive to Freddie’s apartment. After taking my vows just days ago, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. I park outside his place and ring the doorbell. 

“Ariel!” Freddie greets me with a warm smile, pulling me into a hug.

“Wow, Freddie, look at you,” I say, laughing lightly. “It’s been three years, hasn’t it?” 

“Three long years,” he says with a grin, leading me to the couch. 

I notice how much he’s changed. He’s filled out—broad shoulders, toned muscles. His apartment is luxurious, a reflection of his family’s wealth. Freddie didn’t go to college; he’s been working for his father, and it seems to be paying off.

“What should I get you?” he asks. 

“Water is fine,” I reply. 

He disappears into the kitchen, and I take a moment to admire the space. It’s clear he’s doing well for himself. 

“There you go,” he says, returning with a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip. 

“You’re welcome. How’s it been with you? You look more beautiful, Ariel. It hurts a little that you’re now in the convent.” 

“It’s not a convent, Freddie,” I say with a soft laugh. “It’s a school for nuns and sisters. And it’s what I’ve always wanted.” 

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “I remember when you wanted to go to college and study clinical psychology. Maybe even business.” 

I scoff lightly, setting the glass down. “People change, Freddie. We all have the right to make our own choices.” 

“Are you okay?” I ask after a moment of silence, setting the water down on the nearest table.

“Of course,” he says, but his smile seems forced.

Suddenly, I feel strange. My head spins, and my palms grow clammy. I glance at the glass of water, dread creeping over me. 

“Freddie… what did you put in the water?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves closer, his smirk sending chills down my spine. “Just something to help you relax.” 

My heart races. I try to stand, but my legs feel heavy.

“Let me love you, Ariel,” he says, his hand brushing my thigh. 

“Stop,” I whisper, my voice weak and trembling. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, ignoring my pleas. “You deserve to be loved.”

I try to push him away, but my limbs won’t respond. Panic consumes me as he leans closer, his intentions unmistakable. 

“Freddie, don’t do this,” I sob. “You’re my best friend. We’ve been friends since childhood. Please don’t ruin this for me. I’ve already taken my vow, Freddie.” 

“F*ck that school!” he yells, his tone sharp and angry. “I want you, Ariel, and I’m having you whether you like it or not.” 

He ignores my pleas, his touches growing bolder. Panic sets in as he pins me down, his strength overpowering mine. My voice cracks as I plead with him to stop. With a cruel sneer, he silences me with a slap. Tears blur my vision as he forces himself on me, ignoring my cries and protests. I fight, I cry, I pray for it to end, but I’m powerless. 

When it’s over, I lay motionless on the couch, tears pooling beneath me. The pain is unbearable—not just physical, but the shattering betrayal of someone I once called my best friend. My innocence, my trust, my faith—all stolen in a moment I can never take back. Freddie, the person I trusted most, has taken everything from me. 

Freddie tosses some clothes at me, his expression disturbingly casual, as if nothing had happened.  

"You should wear this," he says, his tone flat and unaffected.  

I stare at him, tears streaming down my face. How can he act like this? Like he did nothing?  

"I don’t hate you, Ariel," he says, his voice softening. "I want to be there for you. I love you."  

Love? This isn’t love. Freddie needs help—real help. He’s not okay. He’s not the person I thought he was. 

I wipe my tears, forcing myself to stand. My legs tremble as I bend down to gather the torn remnants of my habit, the symbol of my vows, the garment he destroyed when he took everything from me.  

"I hope God forgives you, Freddie," I whisper, my voice barely audible. A stronger part of me wants to scream at him, hit him, make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’s caused me. But I’m not that strong. I can’t fight him.  

Freddie leans back on the couch, unfazed. "Ariel, it’s no big deal," he says, his words slicing through me like a blade. "I’m not leaving you. I want to be with you."  

I turn to face him, my voice rising despite my trembling. "It’s not okay, Freddie. You’re acting like it’s nothing. But you *stole* my virginity. You *r*p*d* me. You abused me and took advantage of our friendship. You *took advantage of me*! God’s going to judge you, and I’m sure He will." 

My eyes land on the stain on the couch—proof of what he’s done. A sob catches in my throat. I grab my keys and run out of his apartment, tears blurring my vision.  

When I reach my car, I collapse into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel as sobs wrack my body. Why did I come here? Why did I trust him? He was my best friend—someone I thought I could rely on.  

I slam my fists against the steering wheel, tears flowing freely. My mind spirals. What’s going to happen now? What’s my life going to look like after this?  

Eventually, I wipe my face, start the car, and drive away. My vision is blurred with tears, but I manage to make it home. Pulling into the driveway, I see my mom and dad talking outside. 

"Mom!" I cry out, stumbling out of the car. My legs give way, and I collapse onto the ground. 

***

When I open my eyes, unfamiliar faces are peering down at me. I blink, disoriented, and try to sit up, but someone gently pushes me back. 

"Ariel," my mom’s voice whispers beside me, her hand stroking my hair.  

"Mom..." I sob, tears streaming again.  

"Baby, calm down," she says softly. "Talk to us. What happened? You’ve been sleeping since yesterday, and the Mother Superior has been worried." 

Since yesterday? I’ve lost an entire day. The weight of what happened crashes down on me, suffocating me. They deserve the truth, but how do I even begin? 

"I was r*p*d," I say, the words coming out flat and lifeless. 

The room goes silent. My mom’s smile vanishes. My dad looks stunned. Even Leslie’s cheerful demeanor darkens. 

"R*p*d?" Leslie whispers.  

"Who r*p*d you?" my mom asks sharply.  

"Ariel, answer us," my dad demands. "Who r*p*d you?" 

"Freddie," I whisper, my voice cracking as fresh tears spill over.  

"Who’s Freddie?" my mom snaps. 

That’s the issue—who’s Freddie? What do I tell them? That I’ve been hiding a male friend for years?  

"Freddie is my best friend," I mutter, barely audible. "We’ve been friends since elementary school." 

"Your best friend?!" Mom’s voice rises. "You’ve been keeping a male friend since elementary school, and we had no idea?" 

"How do we even know he’s not your boyfriend?" my dad interjects, glaring at me. "Your dirty little boyfriend that you’ve been hiding, huh?"  

"Daddy, no—"  

"It’s just what?!" he shouts. "You sneaked out of school to visit your boyfriend, had s*x with him, and now you’re trying to spin this nonsense? What kind of daughter are you? Why can’t you be like Leslie?"  

I freeze, stunned. Leslie. The golden child. The good girl. My parents always adored her, but when I decided to become a nun, I finally felt like I’d earned their approval. Now, it’s all crumbling.  

"You’re a disgrace, Ariel," my mom says coldly. "You’ve always been a disgrace, and I regret giving birth to you. Get ready to explain to the school and Mother Superior why you were r*p*d just days after taking your vows."  

"I hope God forgives your sins, you dirty little wh*r*," my dad spits. 

"Dad…" I sob, but he cuts me off.  

"Don’t call me that. You’re no daughter of mine." 

They leave the room, slamming the door behind them. I sit there, broken and alone.

***

At the convent, I stand before Mother Superior and the other sisters. Their faces are solemn, disapproving. 

"Why did you leave the Sisters College to visit your male best friend?" one of them asks.  

"I…" My voice fails me. 

"And then you claim to have been r*p*d. Ariel, do you realize how this looks?" 

I look down, unable to meet their eyes. 

"You’ve broken your vows. You’ve committed fornication and lied to cover it up," Mother Superior says, her tone heavy with judgment. "You’re expelled from the convent. I hope you seek God’s forgiveness." 

Her words hit like a hammer. 

"You should leave," she says firmly. 

PRESENT DAY

Things didn’t get better after the incident with Freddie. He kept calling me, even after I deleted his number, and I couldn’t bring myself to hate him as much as I should. My parents changed too. The warm, supportive people they had once been disappeared, replaced by bitterness and resentment. 

Mom, out of some semblance of duty—or maybe guilt—got me a therapist. I guess she thought I needed someone to talk to, someone who could help me navigate the aftermath of everything. 

Twice a week, I sat across from the therapist, listening to her motivational stories, her soft reassurances. But no amount of therapy could fix me. Depression clung to me like a second skin. I felt hollow, shattered. More than once, I thought about ending it all, convinced that Freddie had stolen everything from me: my faith, my purpose, my identity. 

The therapist tried, though. She gave me books to read, placed me on antidepressants, and sched