Roses in a Vase of White
Raven Lee
Disclaimer: Marvel characters belong to Marvel, my characters belong to me. I'm not making any money on this little story, so please don't sue me. ::big puppy dog eyes:: Pwetty pwease wif sugar on top? And please don't use my characters, few that they may be. I kinda like them, and wouldn't really want anyone else writing them without my permission.
Archiving: Please ask first. I like to know who keeps my stories in case, heaven forbid I happen to lose them at some point of time.
Notes: This is a little bit graphic in parts. I really suggest that kids don't read it, but, of course, you're probably going to anyway, so what can I do about it? ::shrugs:: I give this an R rating. I'd explain why, but I really don't want to give away the whole plot of the story. Just know that if the idea of abuse upsets you enough to start flaming me, then don't even read it. If the idea of teen sex (16-17 year olds) offends you, then don't read it either. Also, I think I should give credit to Stabbing Westward. If it weren't for their song, "Sleep," and the fact that I had to look up the lyrics to understand what they were singing, I never would have gotten this idea. The name for this story came from an Alice in Chains song.
Continuity: Um, I don't know when this happens exactly, some time before the school opened to the public. What Gen-X issue was that? Anyone know?
Thanks: Thanks goes out to Lacy, who would read anything I tossed before her and always begged me for more even if she didn't understand the X-Men parts. And of course, as always, thanks goes out to Shera, who's been a great encouraging friend for five years. None of this would happen without you girl, thanks you fluffy thing you.
Flaming: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Flaming is the whole reason I haven't written in more than two years. Constructive criticizing is not flaming, and it's not mean if said in the right way. Please think a little bit before sending me feed back. Thanks.
Feedback: Feedback to writers is like water to flowers, so water a writer today!
Prologue
The footsteps came again. As they did every night. Starting at the end of the hallway and stopping right outside her door. Close. Oh so close. She pulled the blankets up, leaving only her eyes uncovered as she stared intently at the door. She shivered under the blankets, teeth chattering although she was beginning to sweat.
The doorknob slowly turned with a squeak.
She'd taken one of the screws out a few weeks ago, so now it was noisy and hard to turn. Even had she been asleep when the footsteps had sounded down the hall, the sound of the knob turning would now wake her.
He came into the room, never minding that the door squeaked. Her mamma had probably taken those funny little pink pills so she could sleep. She knew she couldn't scram for her momma when she took those, 'cause nothing could wake her up then.
She closed her eyes and evened out her breathing as she had practiced just as he stepped into the room. Despite feeling the need to open her eyes when she felt him standing right over her, she stayed calm and quiet, refusing to even flutter her eyelids.
Breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
Nice, even breaths. Deep in the way sleepers breathe.
A roll of the eyes under her eyelids. Mimicking dreams. Back and forth, up and down. Over and over again.
Stay still, stay calm. He won't hurt her if he doesn't know she's awake.
The sound of a zipper being pulled down was unmistakable.
Her whole body wanted to quake, she wanted to cry out, call for her momma, anything but stay here and listen to…But she stayed quiet, knowing he would be gone in just a little while. It never lasted long.
His breath came out in quick little gasps; he was talking to her. Whispering. Calling her daddy's little girl, his little slut, his pretty little princess. There were other words; words she knew were bad. Momma used to yell at him for saying things like that in front of her. But Momma wasn't here now.
He stayed longer tonight then he usually did, reaching forward to run his fingers through the silken curls that lay on her pillow. It was the only time he touched her. She felt him tug on her hair slightly, probably trying to see if he could wake her. She made a face and rolled onto her side, still mimicking sleep.
After a while, he finally gave up and left, leaving white goo on the floor for her to clean in the morning. The room stank of it now and some had gotten onto the bedspread. But still, she didn't move. His footsteps hadn't retreated back down the hall yet. She didn't dare make a sound until they did. The first time she had, he had come back, calling her his little girl and licking his lips. He had kissed her in the way she'd seen him kiss her momma, making her lay back down on the bed. He'd crushed her with his heavy weight. Then there had been the pain after he'd pulled up her nightgown, and that was all she remembered.
She had drifted away to another place while her body had taken the "punishment," as he called it.
The next morning he had told her she was a bad little girl because she'd been awake past her bedtime, and that was why he had punished her. From now on, he'd told her, she would always be asleep when she was supposed to be or else he would punish her again. Then a funny look had come into his eyes as he told her that he could make her feel really good if she wanted to be *bad.* The way he had said "bad" sent shivers down her spine. She didn't really understand what he meant, but she was smart enough to know that she didn't want to be bad anymore.
Knowing that the pain could come only made it worse at night as she listened for his footsteps. Sometimes they came but he didn't enter her room. On those nights she never got any sleep at all, just knowing that as soon as she drifted away to the place where dreams are made he would come. She was afraid of him, scared of what he would do to her if he ever found out that she was only pretending to sleep. Scared of the pain he could cause her; scared because he told her he would do the same thing to her momma if she ever told.
After what seemed like forever, his footsteps retreated down the hall, followed soon by the sounds of the shower running. It was over, for tonight at least. Tomorrow he might be back. Then again, he might not.
She kicked the sheets off the bed and pulled her benki out from under her pillow. After wrapping the tattered blanket around her little body, she curled into a ball on the far side of the bed, as far from the smell as she could get and still be lying on the mattress.
Despite trying to be a big girl and not a little baby, she begun to cry large silent tears and stuffed her thumb in her mouth. She sent a small prayer up to heaven, wishing that one of them would die.
Raven Lee
Disclaimer: Marvel characters belong to Marvel, my characters belong to me. I'm not making any money on this little story, so please don't sue me. ::big puppy dog eyes:: Pwetty pwease wif sugar on top? And please don't use my characters, few that they may be. I kinda like them, and wouldn't really want anyone else writing them without my permission.
Archiving: Please ask first. I like to know who keeps my stories in case, heaven forbid I happen to lose them at some point of time.
Notes: This is a little bit graphic in parts. I really suggest that kids don't read it, but, of course, you're probably going to anyway, so what can I do about it? ::shrugs:: I give this an R rating. I'd explain why, but I really don't want to give away the whole plot of the story. Just know that if the idea of abuse upsets you enough to start flaming me, then don't even read it. If the idea of teen sex (16-17 year olds) offends you, then don't read it either. Also, I think I should give credit to Stabbing Westward. If it weren't for their song, "Sleep," and the fact that I had to look up the lyrics to understand what they were singing, I never would have gotten this idea. The name for this story came from an Alice in Chains song.
Continuity: Um, I don't know when this happens exactly, some time before the school opened to the public. What Gen-X issue was that? Anyone know?
Thanks: Thanks goes out to Lacy, who would read anything I tossed before her and always begged me for more even if she didn't understand the X-Men parts. And of course, as always, thanks goes out to Shera, who's been a great encouraging friend for five years. None of this would happen without you girl, thanks you fluffy thing you.
Flaming: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Flaming is the whole reason I haven't written in more than two years. Constructive criticizing is not flaming, and it's not mean if said in the right way. Please think a little bit before sending me feed back. Thanks.
Feedback: Feedback to writers is like water to flowers, so water a writer today!
Prologue
The footsteps came again. As they did every night. Starting at the end of the hallway and stopping right outside her door. Close. Oh so close. She pulled the blankets up, leaving only her eyes uncovered as she stared intently at the door. She shivered under the blankets, teeth chattering although she was beginning to sweat.
The doorknob slowly turned with a squeak.
She'd taken one of the screws out a few weeks ago, so now it was noisy and hard to turn. Even had she been asleep when the footsteps had sounded down the hall, the sound of the knob turning would now wake her.
He came into the room, never minding that the door squeaked. Her mamma had probably taken those funny little pink pills so she could sleep. She knew she couldn't scram for her momma when she took those, 'cause nothing could wake her up then.
She closed her eyes and evened out her breathing as she had practiced just as he stepped into the room. Despite feeling the need to open her eyes when she felt him standing right over her, she stayed calm and quiet, refusing to even flutter her eyelids.
Breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
Nice, even breaths. Deep in the way sleepers breathe.
A roll of the eyes under her eyelids. Mimicking dreams. Back and forth, up and down. Over and over again.
Stay still, stay calm. He won't hurt her if he doesn't know she's awake.
The sound of a zipper being pulled down was unmistakable.
Her whole body wanted to quake, she wanted to cry out, call for her momma, anything but stay here and listen to…But she stayed quiet, knowing he would be gone in just a little while. It never lasted long.
His breath came out in quick little gasps; he was talking to her. Whispering. Calling her daddy's little girl, his little slut, his pretty little princess. There were other words; words she knew were bad. Momma used to yell at him for saying things like that in front of her. But Momma wasn't here now.
He stayed longer tonight then he usually did, reaching forward to run his fingers through the silken curls that lay on her pillow. It was the only time he touched her. She felt him tug on her hair slightly, probably trying to see if he could wake her. She made a face and rolled onto her side, still mimicking sleep.
After a while, he finally gave up and left, leaving white goo on the floor for her to clean in the morning. The room stank of it now and some had gotten onto the bedspread. But still, she didn't move. His footsteps hadn't retreated back down the hall yet. She didn't dare make a sound until they did. The first time she had, he had come back, calling her his little girl and licking his lips. He had kissed her in the way she'd seen him kiss her momma, making her lay back down on the bed. He'd crushed her with his heavy weight. Then there had been the pain after he'd pulled up her nightgown, and that was all she remembered.
She had drifted away to another place while her body had taken the "punishment," as he called it.
The next morning he had told her she was a bad little girl because she'd been awake past her bedtime, and that was why he had punished her. From now on, he'd told her, she would always be asleep when she was supposed to be or else he would punish her again. Then a funny look had come into his eyes as he told her that he could make her feel really good if she wanted to be *bad.* The way he had said "bad" sent shivers down her spine. She didn't really understand what he meant, but she was smart enough to know that she didn't want to be bad anymore.
Knowing that the pain could come only made it worse at night as she listened for his footsteps. Sometimes they came but he didn't enter her room. On those nights she never got any sleep at all, just knowing that as soon as she drifted away to the place where dreams are made he would come. She was afraid of him, scared of what he would do to her if he ever found out that she was only pretending to sleep. Scared of the pain he could cause her; scared because he told her he would do the same thing to her momma if she ever told.
After what seemed like forever, his footsteps retreated down the hall, followed soon by the sounds of the shower running. It was over, for tonight at least. Tomorrow he might be back. Then again, he might not.
She kicked the sheets off the bed and pulled her benki out from under her pillow. After wrapping the tattered blanket around her little body, she curled into a ball on the far side of the bed, as far from the smell as she could get and still be lying on the mattress.
Despite trying to be a big girl and not a little baby, she begun to cry large silent tears and stuffed her thumb in her mouth. She sent a small prayer up to heaven, wishing that one of them would die.