This story is going to be darker than how my usual stories go. I want to try something different.
Laughing. That's all I can remember that day. I weakly remember getting hit in the head; I faintly could remember their dirty hands touch my body. I strongly can recall when one of them forced my jeans down, my panties getting caught in the scrunched up mess of the clothing around my ankles. They took turns with me, burning, ripping pain coursed through my veins with each thrust. They were brutal, raw, and I could feel every vocal cord in my throat rip from my screams. I even coughed up some blood. Someone smeared the red liquid over my lips, grunting, "Look boys. She's bleeding." More laughs. It felt like it went on for hours, and when they were done they left me there. Bleeding, from the mouth, and from my sensitive place. I didn't feel the hurt, or the blood drip down, all I could do is listen. And hear their laughs, they sounded so carefree, so pleased. What got to me was that they were laughing at me, over me. Over my ache, over my body. I let the blackness claim my mind, and I passed out. Laughing, their laughing, even haunted me in my unconsciousness.
Eventually, I woke up to sirens and noise. Hands grabbed my body, and I thrashed against my captors. "No! No!" My inaudible, tortured voice rasped. They ignored me, and I could feel them place my battered body on a gurney. The paramedics are here, so that means my father is here too. I searched hysterically, my eyes landing on everyone's faces. I saw uniforms, badges, and then my father. He watched from afar, his expression unreadable. "Dad! Daddy!" I cried, more blood dribbled from my mouth. Someone wiped my mouth, and held me down. My father watched my face, and a tear fell down his face. He started to walk to the ambulance van, were I was being held. He got in, coming to my side.
"Sweetie, can you hear me?" He whispered, looking intently at my face. I nodded, afraid to speak. The blood in my mouth would seep out if I opened it. He stroked my face, his eyes cloudy with tears.
"I should have protected you. I should have never let you walk home without a ride. I'm so sorry, this is my entire fault." He shook his head, tears landing on my face. I weakly touched his hand, trying to talk to him.
"It's not your fault Dad." It hurt to speak, and you could hardly hear me. My dad's eyes opened in alarm, and he called one of the paramedics to the van. I was confused when the paramedic came rushing in, going straight to my face. He opened my mouth, and he also looked horrified. That's when it all became clear. When I talked to my dad, all the blood in my mouth came gushing out. I looked like a scary movie; rivers of blood ran down my mouth, neck, and onto my shirt. My vision went blurry, faces became like fuzzy little photos, and I closed my eyes. I welcomed the dark realm of sleep, but I could hear the laughing. And I screamed in my mind.
"She was raped, lacerations in and around the vagina. There is a chance she could be pregnant, semen was found. Her vocal cords are severely damaged, and it will take some time for them to heal. She shouldn't talk unless it is necessary. I recommend she speak to a therapist, it will hope her cope with what happened. Everyone takes rape hard, and speaking to a professional will help them resume living a healthy life." The doctor's empty voice spoke through the silence. I woke up in the hospital a few hours ago and just pretended to be sleep. My father was speaking to the doctor, who couldn't wait till I went back to sleep to tell him what happened. I was raped. I, the girl who you wouldn't even consider hot, was raped. Why choose me?
"…My poor little girl. She didn't deserve this…no one deserves this." My dad mumbled, cradling his head in his hands. He held my hand, treating it like priceless porcelain. I shuddered in surprise, and his head shot up. "Bells, you awake?" He asked, squeezing my hand.
"Daddy." I whispered, my throat raw and dry. He rubbed my hand, shhing me.
"Don't talk, sweetie. Go back to sleep." He said softly. I didn't argue with him, and just shut my eyes. But I could still feel their hands everywhere, touching my frail body. I opened my eyes, and was met with their smiling faces. All watching me with lusty amusement.
"Please leave me alone!" I screamed, a rush of blood gushing out my mouth, jerking my body away from my father. I didn't see my father, or the doctor, I saw them. Laughing at me, tearing into my body. I could hear my father pleading with me to calm down, and I felt a pinch of a needle. A sedative, to make me sleep. I moaned, unbridled tears sliding down my face. "Please, leave me alone. Leave me alone. Alone." My words slurred, the medication worked fast. I saw nothing, a sleep without even knowing. Yet I still couldn't escape the smiles, the looks, the laughs. Even in medicated sleep, they still haunted me.
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