When Doves Cry
Theyoung girlwears a daring red singlet he bought for her birthday, denim cutoffs, her bellybutton squeezed to a slit above a silver strap, standing against the wall of her bedroom. Her father, a tall,hairy man, who smells faintly of vomit and booze, shakes his belt inches from her face.
Dare you…Go on...! Double dare you!
He lets the folded strap unravel to the floor and holding it by the belt buckle.
CRACK
The sharp echo cuts into her inner ear like butter. Yet she doesn't move or grimace or even wince as the bruise begins to bloom on her cheek. She blankly focuses on the small tendril of slick black hair dancing wistfully along her eyebrow, gently rocking side to side in dogged determination. She won't scream; refuses too.
A strip of skin has already been peeled from her bare shoulder, complimenting the snake lines across her thighs, and a picture perfect curl around her long neck. But still she remains undaunted. She looks through him. Like a soldier. She battles on. Not giving the prick the satisfaction. She dares him again. As if to say: Hit me again!
He forces her to stand with hissickly soft touch, even though she insists with her body language she can and WILL do it herself. His own standing ovation is never short of following. At this point he closes the door, painfully slow. It will stay locked; always locked till the end of the night. No matter what she tries, or how many times she tries it. The hopeless realization like a bullet stuck trembling within her brain waiting to move that fatal microscopic inch. Nothing was going to change that. No matter how much she slept, or how many dishes and glasses she broke, or how much she prayed, or screamed, or cried...
Her mind wandered off. In the corner of her eye there is the sky. She knows it's the sky. Or at least a piece of the sky. A dark clear blue, cold but not bitter, and a branch which she vigilantly holds onto with her eyes.
"Just think... its practice for later on… Who better to teach you than the one man who will always love you. The only shame is in what society makes you think you have to feel. You're more than a body to me, and I appreciate it more than any man you'll ever know."
A small twig attached to the branch captures a wondering imagination while he pulls her pants down cautiously. The cold air touches her thighs and he begins the weekly ritual; touching her, softly, he needs to make her feel obligated to enjoy. But there is the sky, a branch, a twig moving so elegantly in the wind. She feels a sharp pain that twists her insides ruthlessly before riding out through every possibly nerve.
Lost Innocence.
That's when he starts moving faster, gaining momentum. Just like the twig, attached to the branch that lives in the sky. Powerless to stop him, she just ignores the sound of his zipper being undone. He says something inaudible, but the soft rustling of the little twig drowns him out.
She remembers once when she left the branches and the sky, when he wasn't looking, back to the time she had told her mother.
Upon darting out the 'spare room' she dashes downstairs into the kitchen for the closest and sharpest knife. He would NOT stand a chance again. Ripping each and every organ from his decrepit little sack of skin, sounded awfully appealing too. He took his time to casually saunter down the stairs, with her mother in tow. " W W W w wwhat's wrong...?"
The youngster gulped at her mothers response, her grip of the knife slowly getting weaker and weaker as she fell to her knees to do the only thing she felt brave enough to do… she began crying. Alone. Frightened. Her voice gurgling as she blurted out frustration and desperation in a pathetic plea bargain.
"Can't you see. He's been hurting me. Every few nights… he comes to my room… Mom please… Mom please don't let him do this… please.." Then the horrified look on her mothers face, allowed her to compose herself. She'd won.
"Get out of my house young lady." Orr maybe not. "I've heard enough of your disgraceful behavior. I always thought that because you were a girl you'd innocently flirt with him. But to take the disappointment in yourself out on someone who's fed, clothed and lovingly looked after you since you were born is pathetic. If this is how you're going to repay us get out! And don't come back until you're ready to apologize, and be prepared to live and abide by the rules in this family."
The twig had gone, the memory fading into the grey hues around her. Her mouth began aching; as if it were to split at an any moment. The chocking wasn't so bad, worse than the humiliation of what he was making her do. Feeling slightly woozy, her eyes closeand the sky,edges closer.
Then the in the last moment
The one moment the floor fell out from the world... The one second when she turned her back on everyone...
She was totally alone in the dark... The floor fell out of the world...
Mom… Drowning... The nightmare slopping over the edges... The night full of nothing.. The one second...
Dad… The night full of nothing but herself... No- one to grab hold off... Now rejecting the world as if it were some kind of transplant... The floor dropped out... And the whole world turned its back and left her... No walls...
She's thrown in the deep end...
Neo… the moment she was waiting for... The darkness coming at her like trains from everywhere...
There were no walls... Thinking she was ... alone in the room... herself... the moment,
That one...
Dark...
Room.
"TRINITY!"
A concerned voice had obviously not made it through to her subconscious as Neo held the hand that had struck him across the face not more than 10 seconds ago. Blinking his eyes, still rather groggy himself, the trim hand of Trinity's in his grasp finally came into view, her fingers half curled around his, half something in the dream world. Her face was taught with wearytension as she remained stiff. She shyed away unwittingly against her lover's touch, still trapped within another realm. With a worried gasp Neo seized her other wrist and adjusted himself to pull her into his lap, leaning down just far enough to speak comfortingly in her ear.
"Trinity, can you hear me? Come on Trinity. You can get out of this dream… That's all it is… Mind over.." As she relaxed little by little, a comforting sound escaped her lips. The tight purse of her lips loosened, her mouth parting with breathless tension.
Her conscious mind was visibly stirring, as she tried to open her eyes, the abundance of light in the room causing her to jump back a little in shock. The flicking lights of her delusion flooding her brain were difficult if not almost impossible to get rid of, but she was trying. Something was calling her. Teasing her; but she was to strong.
"Are you alright Trinity?"
"Yeh, Just... Just a bad dream.. "
"'Just a' bad dream? The whole room was shaking." He shook his head; the room being so small, just rolling over could make it shake. That was one of the 'joys' about sharing it, but it was having a wonderful girl to share it with he liked the most. That was HIS favorite part.
"You can't blame me for being worried!"
"I know… but everyone has them. Anyway, theres concerned with what's happening within the Matrix."
"What's the point in 'trying' to save the human race, if I cant even save you from a few nightmares." Neo laughed, falling back onto the mattress jokingly, wiping his eyes just enough to see the collidescope light show of yellow and green, inside his eyelids.
"You know me. I don't need saving. I just… I promise Ill be big and strong so you don't have to worry about me! I'm a big girl remember…"
Trinity's response melted her partner's serious attitude, and he couldn't help but find her slight patronizing comment worth a laugh. Quickly trying to sit back upright, using his palms as leverage, his wife had up and gone anyway. Life would have been much easier back in the matrix. It would have been winter. There'd be some really bad snow storm that would "decide" to drop ten inches as far as the eye could see in every direction before dawn, blanketing the roads in a layer of white that would make even penguins jealous. Like any good storm, it would make the day's work commute a little too hard to endeavor so instead he would be snuggling up to Trinity in his little hovel, next to a roaring fire drinking fake champagne and talking about how 'boring' life was.
But no… This was just made up, unreal, fake… What he felt now, for Trinity, for the fight.. That was real, and that was more important than pretty little slivers of ice and making funny little snowmen. Although he wouldn't object if Trinity wanted these things… She was even more dear than he would ever let on.
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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters besides the 'evil one' which I solemnly wash my hands of. The Matrix and all its characters/locations/ideas are intellectual property of WB, Robert Zemekis and its other respective owners. None of this is for money or otherwise materialistically beneficial to me or any other fan orf the franchise.
Note: thanks to those that read my older story. Hopefully this edit hasn't killed the mood the other one had which you girls seemed to like. xox