an argument.

"Do you know what it feels like to be dethroned? To be ashamed of what you are and who you are because some foolish man decided to sleep with you and suddenly that defined you? I became a laughing stalk in moments after my decision but everyone praises you. They call you a good lay. They called me a whore. When did you suddenly become the person to accept such praises? Did it higher your status in anyway? I don't see how it did. It made you seem less human but that was about it." Her words were venom on his skin, leading goosebumps up his neck.

"You slept with me! You should have seen this coming at some point! Get off of your high horse and look at reality. Anything you do is being watched. People look at you like your famous. You should have seen it coming but what's even worse was that you blame your mistakes on me." He retorted but it wasn't as powerful as hers because even he knew the consequences of sleeping with such an openly opinionated woman.

Everyone looked down on her. Everyone. She used to imagine herself drowning in her opinions because they were like water and no matter how much she pushed it out, the ocean was always pushing it back in. In this context it was other people who would tell her that her opinions were wrong. But now here she was, choking, water filling her lungs all over again as she stared at the boy she had once come to love.

"What happened to what happens between us stays between us? Did that rule just go away or did you always have to go out and about claiming all these praises like they were preaches from the word of god? I didn't know altar boys got to take these praises."

"Shut up." His voice was stern but she continued.

"You always held your head high just due to the fact that you always thought what you did represented you and never your actual actions huh?"

"Shut up." His voice was getting louder and he was getting angrier, to the point where he stood up and loomed over her at the table they were sitting at in her house.

He had always been taller and more powerful than she was. He was a stunningly 6'0 boy that naturally grew up in a Christian household. It was only natural that he held his standards high as his parents taught him otherwise he would feel the same way she was feeling; swept by the ocean.

"You know, 'Those who repent on Sunday for what they did Saturday plan to do it Monday.'" She spat, standing up with her palms on the table.

"I said shut up!" He slammed a fist on the table as he breathed like an angry bull through his nostrils.

She has never been afraid of him in her life because she knew the consequences of being afraid. It was always a loss in advenutre, a loss in something she would possibly need and to be afraid was to deter curiosity and she simply didn't want to do so.

And so she stood there, 5'4 in a bad position with the larger man there and yet her own anger clashed against his. The opinionated woman, Josie, stood just as tall as he did with her judgement. She clashed with him intellectually always. It annoyed him, especially when it came to time like this, when he wished that he could make her recoil with a spout of his anger like a boiling kettle bubbling over the edge.