the girl who wore purple lipstick

She wore purple lipstick. Maria, was her name. Every time I saw her in the school halls she had a vibrant smile. She tossed her curly blonde hair to the side, as her bangs covered half of her face revealing her one pearl green eye. She batted her eyelashes seductively, and the guys drooled, thirsting to touch her. Her father was a priest. I attended the church that he spoke at every Sunday. He had brown hair with a receding hairline. He wore thick Rimmed bifocals, which gave him bug eyes. Every week he wore a different colored tie, along with a charcoal gray suit. Paster brown, was what He went by. Before and after each service I saw him reach into

His pocket to apply his cherry Chapstick, which made is lips unnecessarily glossy. I peered over at Maria one Sunday morning while her father was speaking. She had her hair up in a pony tail, and wore a long purple skirt that touched the floor. Maria loved her father and he loved her. She wore purple lipstick. Maria was up studying in her room one night. She had committed three hours each night towards homework, and went to bed regularly at 930. Her father came up to her room to check in on her. They chatted about how school was going. Maria then yawned and told her dad that she was going to bed. He stood in the doorway staring at her. He walked forward and shut the door behind him, bolting the lock. Maria felt a cold breath of wind coming from her window. She shivered. Her father took off his glasses and set them down on her white dresser. She had awards pinned to the wall that she had received for achieving distinguished honor, as well as math and science competitions. Maria sat in her desk chair confused. "Dad?" She asked, her voice beginning to shake. He pounced on her, throwing her body on the bed. She froze. He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his aged flabby and hair invested chest. He then proceeded to take off Maria's nightgown. He started at the collar and ripped the gown all the way down to her knees as it tore in half. Her mother had given it to her after the doctor announced that they were going to stop giving her treatments. Her father pressed his stomach against hers, and began guiding his hand, working his way down to between her legs. Maria pleaded to her father that he stop and that she wouldn't tell anyone about this. He grabbed her throat with his free hand and squeezed it as she gasped for air. Tears began to well up in her eyes spilling down her cheek and down her neck for she knew what was coming. He thrusted his four dirt crusted chipped fingers into her as he groaned. He grabbed her breast and began squeezing and twisting it as Maria whimpered in pain. He swirled is tongue inside her mouth as she could taste the cherry Chapstick.   Her father pulled out his fingers and wiped the back of his hand on her face. He unzipped his camel colored khakis and tossed them behind him. He grinned at Maria, revealing a set of small yellow teeth that she rarely saw. He thrusted back in forth, causing Maria to feel excruciating pain. He slapped her across the face with his hand, leaving a red gash along her cheek. Maria thought of her mother again, and her beautiful long black hair, and her soft hands. She had braided Maria's hair each morning Before school in the fourth grade. Everyday when Maria opened her purple lunchbox, she found a note from her mom that read, "I love you, Maria." Her father got up off of her and walked out of the room leaving the door open. Maria lay frozen on the bed, hearing nothing but the sound of her heart beating. Her father returned and stood in front of her. He was holding a metal hanger. He grabbed the hook at the top and bent it so it was a straight line pointing towards the ceiling. He kneeled at the end of the bed, inserting it inside Maria and began jabbing at her insides. Maria tried to scream but her father clamped his fist over top her mouth. It smelled like siemen. She knew this because of her first and only experience that she had with a boy in eighth grade. His name was Jimmy. They were sitting in the movie theater when all of sudden he grabbed her hand and shoved it down his pants. Maria tried foundling him but still was unsure of what to do. They broke up the next day.  When Maria's father left the room for good, she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling the warmth of her own blood stream down her legs. Her purple lipstick was smeared on her chin and above her top lip. She collapsed to the floor and began sobbing into her hands. Maria stopped showing up to school after that. She even stopped appearing at church. The kids in our class noticed this for about a week, but just assumed that she switched schools. Life went on. A few months later as I was walking home from school, I noticed a small and frail looking girl walking towards me. She was wearing an oversized green hoodie. As we crossed paths she looked up at me. I barely recognized her. It was Maria. Her face was pale, and her cheekbones protruded out of her skin. Her eyes were cloudy and sunk into her face. I looked at her lips. They were a pale pink. I had never seen her lips naked before. She looked back down and we both continued on in the opposite direction. That was the last time that I saw Maria. The girl that wore purple lipstick.