Triggering warning for rape and suicide.
The door knob clicks open and her heart begins to race. He enters the room, and her mind begs and pleads to escape. If it meant death, he’s accept it right now. She’d even enjoy it, with her only other option being…him.
He is sure to close the door behind him. She looks for an escape, her body pressing up against the bed frame. She wrapped her blanket around her, scanning the room. She knew it was hopeless, knew that the windows were latched, that he would just back her into a corner, somehow. He was a good planner, and knew exactly the nights her mom wouldn’t be home to hear her cry.
He advances, and she wonders how long she could fight him off. Her mom won’t be getting done with work for at least 2 more hours - could she struggle that long? How painful is a blow to the groin?
As he advances, she jumps off the bed, pure adrenaline racing through her veins and she darts to the other side of the room. But he is faster - he’s always faster - and within 30 seconds, she’s pinned to the bed under his massive weight, head banging the head board on the way down. Her desperate attempts to keep herself upright are no match for 200 pounds of muscle, and she is momentarily silenced by the throbbing in the back of her skull.
The pants come off first, her toes catching the the folds of her fabric in a desperate attempt to keep her clothes on as she kicks. Her shirt rips as he yanks it from her grasp, tears soaking her face faster and faster. Her under clothes peel off and she knows this is it, this is her last chance. She’s seeing everything, every insecurity, every pound he’s tried to beat off of her skin. She screams, her voice and blood curdling echo of her terror, causing his fist to collide with her teeth. She screams again, this time from pain, and he crashes his knuckles into her rib cage.
She finally goes limp, her body violated in the worse way. Her will has drained from her essence, leaking all over the sheets and evaporating into nothing. Pain devours her being, shooting through her body like thousand tiny daggers stabbing into her. Emotional and physical agony mix and swirl behind her eyelids and she whimpered and sobs. His hands touched and explored everywhere a father’s shouldn’, where no man should ever touch his daughter. And she knew that this had to end.
She had to die. Soon. She felt so dirty, so used and ruined, beyond repair. Something that should have been meaningful had been darkened and taken away from her, charged with anger, hate, pain, and force. She knew that she could never be whole again. She thought she could never enjoy life - not after this.
And so she began to plan, her only comfort to the agony. She began to fantasize about the caress of the rope on her neck, the kiss of the blade on her pale skin. It was her only redeption, softer than her father’s kiss can ever been, laced with more comfort than he could ever hold.
The pain seemed never-ending. By the time he was finished with her, she was bloody and bruised in more places than one, leaking father-inflicted pain.
He got up, zipping up his zipper. He seemed so calm and collected. How can he be like that? She wondered. In the face of what he just did, hos can he not be breaking down inside, how can he not be scarred…
He leaned over and whispered the words than sealed the deal, “If you ever tell a soul about this, you will be dead faster than you can blink your eyes, and so will your little sister.” And then he was gone, leaving her in the blackness of her misery.
He is sure to close the door behind him. She looks for an escape, her body pressing up against the bed frame. She wrapped her blanket around her, scanning the room. She knew it was hopeless, knew that the windows were latched, that he would just back her into a corner, somehow. He was a good planner, and knew exactly the nights her mom wouldn’t be home to hear her cry.
He advances, and she wonders how long she could fight him off. Her mom won’t be getting done with work for at least 2 more hours - could she struggle that long? How painful is a blow to the groin?
As he advances, she jumps off the bed, pure adrenaline racing through her veins and she darts to the other side of the room. But he is faster - he’s always faster - and within 30 seconds, she’s pinned to the bed under his massive weight, head banging the head board on the way down. Her desperate attempts to keep herself upright are no match for 200 pounds of muscle, and she is momentarily silenced by the throbbing in the back of her skull.
The pants come off first, her toes catching the the folds of her fabric in a desperate attempt to keep her clothes on as she kicks. Her shirt rips as he yanks it from her grasp, tears soaking her face faster and faster. Her under clothes peel off and she knows this is it, this is her last chance. She’s seeing everything, every insecurity, every pound he’s tried to beat off of her skin. She screams, her voice and blood curdling echo of her terror, causing his fist to collide with her teeth. She screams again, this time from pain, and he crashes his knuckles into her rib cage.
She finally goes limp, her body violated in the worse way. Her will has drained from her essence, leaking all over the sheets and evaporating into nothing. Pain devours her being, shooting through her body like thousand tiny daggers stabbing into her. Emotional and physical agony mix and swirl behind her eyelids and she whimpered and sobs. His hands touched and explored everywhere a father’s shouldn’, where no man should ever touch his daughter. And she knew that this had to end.
She had to die. Soon. She felt so dirty, so used and ruined, beyond repair. Something that should have been meaningful had been darkened and taken away from her, charged with anger, hate, pain, and force. She knew that she could never be whole again. She thought she could never enjoy life - not after this.
And so she began to plan, her only comfort to the agony. She began to fantasize about the caress of the rope on her neck, the kiss of the blade on her pale skin. It was her only redeption, softer than her father’s kiss can ever been, laced with more comfort than he could ever hold.
The pain seemed never-ending. By the time he was finished with her, she was bloody and bruised in more places than one, leaking father-inflicted pain.
He got up, zipping up his zipper. He seemed so calm and collected. How can he be like that? She wondered. In the face of what he just did, hos can he not be breaking down inside, how can he not be scarred…
He leaned over and whispered the words than sealed the deal, “If you ever tell a soul about this, you will be dead faster than you can blink your eyes, and so will your little sister.” And then he was gone, leaving her in the blackness of her misery.
******
It only takes her 7 weeks to really notice the disturbance in her normal body. The only blood she has shed in the last 7 weeks has been self-inflicted - her period has all but disappeared. Distraught, she sneaks out, going to the drug store. It’s midnight, and the man at the counter gives her evil eyes and she slides the pregnancy test across the counter. She knows exactly what he’s thinking - that she’s a whore. A slut. That she deserves it for not being more careful. She’s been on birth control since she was 10 - “to regulate her periods” - but it was really for her dad’s safety. And now, and she crouches down in the toilet, heart erratic and she waits, she knows that it has failed her. So many times, so many tears, so much pain…and the control has failed her. And now what is she to do? Thirteen years old, carrying her father’s hate inside her stomach. What will she do with it? She can’t keep it. She can barely keep herself alive. Maybe - maybe it is best to die alongside the baby. Then no one will call me a murderer. No one will have to know. She can beat her dad at his own game. She won’t even leave a note - then her sister will be safe. Her precious sister. He won’t touch her - even at 12, she’s much more developed, and he doesn’t fancy her. -
******
This story is no one’s story and so many people’s story. This story is a small snippet of the pain and rape victim feels day to day. This is a insight into what it’s like to really live in hell. And there are some people that would have her keep this baby. When she cannot even sustain herself. Some people would have her carry the scars of her abuse forever. Some people would let that baby know, some day - that even if it’s mother wants it know, it was born in the cruelest way. It was unwanted and unplanned. No baby needs that life. No girl needs to become a mother on those circumstances. Protect women’s right to choice.
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