Sometimes those who are close can be the ones who push.

And that is the story of Dolores Haze. A vulnerable, funny, bratty yet determined twelve year old girl. A mistaken seductress, a disbelieved victim. Taken by the hands of a man who is twice her age called Humbert Humbert.

Poetic words can never cover up his deeds, only upon the pages of his journal. L0lita was a familiar letter spelt on the ink, next in line was the description of "nymphet". This tattered journal, old and worn by the years and now in your hands.

You remembered Dolores. When you were younger. When you slipped a poem into her locker, she never mentioned it, but you saw her read it- twice. The time she split her cookie and handed it to you. You didn't even like cookies, but you took it because she was the only one who noticed that you couldn't afford lunch nor did you bring it. Or when a girl tripped you in gym, she pelted a dodgeball at her face. Now you're sixteen and still looking for the girl taken by her stepfather, a man of marriage to her mother only to get closer to Dolores. This held all the secrets, everything you've been suspicious of up to now.

Charlotte Haze, her mother, dead and struck by a carriage. Leaving poor Dolores into Humbert's hands, his grasp, his desire, his wish. And he wrote about his actions is a romantic sense, his thoughts as if they were normal.

Another year, another time. 1959. Exactly four years ago Dolores was never seen again. People brushed it off as Humbert taking her on a road trip to "ease the grief" and no one really cared. But you did, because it seemed like a subtle yet legal kidnapping to you.

But just because it's legal doesn't mean it's right.

Soon the word slipped around the classroom of your now grown peers. "I saw him. Our sixth grade teacher near a gas station." One whispered, "Humbert?" Another replied. Without saying a word, which was unusual for you now unlike back then when you were just a silent shadow, you ran to the gas station.