The Unaware.

She had allowed herself to be ravaged by sleep while laying in the grass. The dew had begun to soak through her flimsy summer dress. She shivered now, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see through the heavy mist. There was a guiltiness to the pleasure she took is being submerged in this fragile moment, a moment that felt so surreal and dreamlike.

She trod softly, as though any sudden movements or loud noises would break this spell.

As she reached the road the mist had thinned and the dampness of her clothing had completely sapped her body heat. She rubbed at her elbows.

The walk was relatively short, across manicured front lawns and through the golf course where she had stolen her first kiss. She wondered if her mother would awaken and question her whereabouts/how she got home/if she was hungry. She attempted to prepare herself. 

She paused at the front door, checking all her bruises were covered.

An hour or two later, wrapped up in bed in her ridiculously large duvet and reveling in the feeling of the ocean breeze on her face, she heard her mothers car drive away.

The guilt was palpable.

She only found comfort within her mothers walls, but never the comfortability she needed to tell.