Tatters of Reality
The Abuser and the Abused
"Let me feel what sharp distress I may."
Charles Dickens
Lizzy silently crept down the hall, careful not to make any noise. The hall of the ranch style home was dim from the lack of light. There seemed to be no one in the house and had been that way for hours. Lizzy went into her room and quietly closed the door behind her. She stood there for a minute in the darkness of her room, straining her ears to hear any signs of her uncle.
When no noise could be detected, she almost cried out in relief. By the lack of light outside when she came home, she judged it was nearing six or seven. Her uncle must've been out emptying his wallet for precious cases of beer. She walked to her bed and dropped to her knees. Sticking a hand underneath the bed, she felt around for the familiar crinkled photograph that was usually hidden there.
Lizzy's hand found what it was searching for and quickly brought it to gray eyes. Like a haunting memory, there was her family smiling at her. There in her hand sat the image of her mother and two older brothers, all of whom she barely remembered. Years ago they had been murdered by the hand of a complete stranger. Tracing each of their faces she smirked.
Before her family was murdered Lizzy had never known such sadness, such misery, such abuse. Perhaps, she told herself, this was meant to be. Her life was supposed to be some sad sappy story; only it was a story no one was reading. The strange silence was broken by the sound of a door opening and slamming. Without thinking she shoved the picture back underneath her bed.
She got to her feet and stared like a deer caught in headlights at her door. As heavy footsteps could be heard she wanted to duck underneath the bed along with the photograph that hid there. Lizzy listened; hoping that those footsteps walked passed her door. The longing to dive underneath the bed became so strong she couldn't resist it. Swiftly she dove under the bed and shut her eyes.
The footsteps banging against the floor stopped. A still silence went through the house once again. With baited breath she waited. The door to her room creaked open and with it the door to her soul, spilling a little of its contents.
"Lizzy," a deep voice called out soothingly. "Lizzy come out I won't hurt you this time."
A balding man spoke. In his right hand was a beer can and in his left was a freshly lit cigarette. His gut hung over his pants proudly and his tank top rose above his belly button. Hair sprouted from every spot on the man and to view him would make anyone want to vomit. He let out a belch before reaching down to scratch himself.
Lizzy shut her eyes, hoping her uncle would walk away. Her body pleaded not to be beaten again, but there was nothing she could do as the footsteps of her uncle trailed their way towards her hiding place. This was it. His figure was coming her way. Like always, she was never ready for what was to come.
"Liz, I know you're in here you little-" He stopped not able to find the right name to call her. "You can't hide from me."
Under the bed, Lizzy waited. After a minute or so, she lifted the blanket hiding her form and peeped out. Her blood turned to frigid ice. There was her uncle's displeasing face staring back at her. His flashing brown eyes were fixed on Lizzy's form.
The next moment his huge thick fingers grasped her wrist and pulled her forcefully from what she thought was a safe haven. Now she knew for sure that no place in this house, no her uncle's house was safe. She tried yanking her arm from his vice like grip, but it was useless. From the corner of her eye she saw the abandoned can of alcohol sitting on her nightstand. A complete indication that there could have been, or were, cans before that one that he consumed.
He brought her to her feet and inches from his face. He took another drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into his niece's face. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol invaded her lungs making her cough. This time the door to Lizzy's soul stood open, welcoming her uncle to come in. She felt his strong fingers grasp hold of her shoulders and then she was pushed to the floor.
"Why do you do this? Why?" Lizzy, with clear eyes stared up at him. Long ago, her tears ran dry. Her self pity along with it. The only thing left was...nothing. An empty shell filled to its capacity with nothing, was all that was left of her.
Her uncle walked towards her, every step insured her that pain was about to come. He got on his knees, which looked to be a task in its self for the large man. Before his fingers, which still held his lit cigarette, began to unbutton her shirt, he looked into her eyes. Those clear grey that he manipulated for years. Without lifting his eyes from his niece's, he dragged the cigarette down her neck, zigzagging its way past her collarbone.
Lizzy flinched at the heat pressed against her skin. Not wanting to witness the actions of her uncle, she shut her eyes. The heat of the cigarette began to claim her skin faster. She bit on her bottom lip to keep from screaming. There was no way she would show him her pain.
There was no way she would give him that pleasure.
"Why do I do this? How dare you ask your dear ol' uncle such a question?" He stroked her hair, which he couldn't believe reached the girl's waist. One day, he decided he would cut it. The cigarette butt slipped carelessly from his fingers. Beady brown eyes followed the girl's form before them.
He brought his putrid lips closer to her. Her stomach gave a lurch.
"Everyday your Uncle Ed goes to work to give you better! And what do you do? You disobey me."
His next action made her jerk. He grasped a handful of her locks and pulled them, taking pleasure in seeing her body move towards the pain. As quick as it came he let go of her and the hand that once held her hair delved into the pockets of his pants and pulled out a knife.
Lizzy folded her arms, trying to protect her body from the harm that was to come. Though, all along she knew it would not help. He would help to shatter her soul. Everyday he took a hammer to what was her ice castle and everyday that he shattered her precious castle she built a brick fortress to replace it. In a hard voice he bid her to take off her shirt.
She watched her uncle's gut jiggle as he stood. It both hypnotized and grossed her out. As usual, she refused to remove her shirt. Never would she willingly make this easy for him. Her mouth set into a thin frown.
"You disobeying Uncle Ed?" He spoke in third terms just to boost his ego. Of course this annoyed Lizzy and she did not make a move to take her shirt off. His eyes spoke volumes. They spoke volumes of anger, hate, and hunger to see her flesh torn open once more.
Uncle Ed tapped the knife on his palm. Looking down at it lovingly he cleared his throat.
"We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way."
Lizzy cringed at the memory of her desperate attempt to escape her daily punishment. How he had pushed her down the flight of stairs leading to the basement after he kicked her multiple places. For three days she stayed locked in that basement, dear ol' uncle forgetting about her. It wasn't until he came downstairs to the basement looking for beer did he decide that she had learned her lesson. It was an experience she didn't want to go through again.
Reluctantly, she removed her shirt and hugged her bare arms. Lizzy's eyes hit the floor. She was way past embarrassment. Uncle Ed positioned himself behind her and began to slash at her back. Each cut bringing about a drunken laugh for his throat.
He enjoyed watching blood seep from the open cuts. He took pleasure in hearing gasps come from his niece. To feel her lurch away from the knife was pure happiness to him. Her skin was like butter to the knife and cut easily. In days the cuts would turn to scabs and then beautiful scars would liter her back.
Satisfied with his work, he stood and wiped the knife clean with Lizzy's shirt. He walked out of the room without a word, but a cheap smile plastered to his face. It was about a half an hour before Lizzy got the strength to pick herself up and go to the bathroom to clean herself. The feeling of being violated washed over her. It seemed like hours she stood in the shower, letting the water sting her back.
Like normal she went to bed without dinner. The growl in her stomach, she had learned to tame down to an echo. She crawled onto a lumpy mattress and pulled a thin blanket over her body. Her neck was red from being burned and her back ached with a dull pain. Lizzy was lucky that tonight she had gotten off easier than usual.
She closed her eyes preparing for a dreamless sleep.
A/N: Before you send off reviews on how unrealistic this is, take into mind that when I wrote the beginning of this story I was almost 14 or 15. It gets better.