567,648,000 Seconds

It wasn't what she intended.

When she went out in red lips and stiletto heels the night after she turned 18 and suddenly she realized her body was no longer wrapped behind caution tape. But her face still looked the same as it did the week before.

They said it aged her. The crimson lipstick against her pale face was as egregious a mark of sin as blood staining her hands. She was no innocent. She never would be again.

“Who would do such a thing? Who would be that stupid?”

She'd read the headlines, the stories, the statistics, and the media. Everyone knew the rules. She knew the rules.

A young lady alone at night with red lips. She must have been a siren. Calling to men, promising to satisfy their desires, even if her song said the opposite. Her intentions were certain. She sang them loud and clear when her biological clock struck 567,648,000 seconds.

How could she expect them not to listen?

It wasn't what she intended, but that didn't matter. Everyone else knew what she wanted now.