Truth Out Of Darkness
Chapter 43
Chloe fought to catch her breath. She'd been crying for three hours now. Every time she began to calm down, the visions and memories assaulted her again, tormenting her with fresh pain. {Breathe, Chloe, breathe.} She kept seeing it, kept feeling it. His fat tongue is in her mouth, prodding and slopping in every crevice of her mouth. She can't breathe. He pushes her down with his weight, grunts in her ear. She stiffens, terrified, as he forces her legs apart. She can't breathe. And then the pain as he forces his way into her. He pushes against her, thrusts for an eternity until she can feel his slime inside of her.
Chloe leaned over the bed and threw up into her wastebasket. She retched from the memories, the intense sobs that stole her breath. She was hyperventilating and crying so hard she literally vomited. She cried so hard she threw up blood, having rubbed her trachea raw with her sobs.
Chloe shuddered with the force of the images, the force of the shame they brought. His slime had been inside of her, everywhere. What if it was still there? Chloe ran to the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on in the tub. She got it as hot as she could stand it, hotter. She grabbed a rough loofah sponge and scrubbed every inch of her skin, every hole and crevice, everywhere he had touched. She scoured until her tender skin bled, growing red and puffy from her abuse.
Chloe watched in dazed fascination as the blood dripped into the water. She watched as the water turned red – tainted. Just like she was. Damaged goods. She got out of the bath and dried herself off. She dried the small scrapes on her skin carefully.
She caught sight of her naked body in the bathroom mirror and froze. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. "Chloe, you're so beautiful." A chorus of a hundred different voices echoed in her mind. She was so beautiful, all her life she had been so beautiful. It's why the boys in the orphanage couldn't stop staring at her. It's why Phillip had wanted to be with her. It's why her 'father' had raped her. "Chloe, you're so beautiful," they chanted in her mind.
With a cry of anguish and rage, Chloe threw a hairbrush at the mirror – taking a perverse pleasure in watching it shatter into a thousand pieces still held in place by its backing.
She looked at the cracked mirror. It had once reflected Chloe the whole, now it reflected Chloe's parts – disconnected body parts. That's how she had felt, every time she sensed a man's eyes burning into her body. Like she wasn't a person, but a collection of parts. She looked in the mirror and saw herself. Shattered.
She rummaged through her closet for something to wear to bed. It was still early, but she was going to bed. She was going to bed and she was going to stay there until the world ended. She tossed aside the pretty, satiny nightgowns in disgust. She picked up one garment and smiled at the irony. It was the heavy, flannel, ugly sleep shirt that Brady had dressed her in the night Phillip attacked her. Perfect. She put on the oversized garment and smiled when it practically swallowed her body whole. She felt safe in it, comforted. She dug in her closet and found a large cardboard box.
Inside were her 'ghoul girl' clothes. She hadn't been able to bring herself to throw them all out. So she had kept some, just in case. She pulled out a heavy black sweater and hugged it to her. She crawled into bed with her security blanket and doubled up into a ball. She thought of Brady. The one person she always ran to when she was hurt was the one person she couldn't be around. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She knew things for her would never be the same. In a matter of twenty- four hours her world had been turned upside down, rocked to its very core. She smiled as she remembered last night. It had felt so wonderful to be close to Brady, in his arms, touching, kissing. But now that was over. Her 'father' had ruined her. She couldn't think of being with anyone, not even Brady, that way. It just hurt too much.
Chloe cried fresh tears into her pillow. She saw the look on Brady's face, the look in his eyes, as she walked away from him in the park. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, her heart breaking. She cried for what might have been until she eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep. Not knowing that her soul mate, her missing half was not fifteen feet away, beneath her window, crying his own tears.
Chapter 43
Chloe fought to catch her breath. She'd been crying for three hours now. Every time she began to calm down, the visions and memories assaulted her again, tormenting her with fresh pain. {Breathe, Chloe, breathe.} She kept seeing it, kept feeling it. His fat tongue is in her mouth, prodding and slopping in every crevice of her mouth. She can't breathe. He pushes her down with his weight, grunts in her ear. She stiffens, terrified, as he forces her legs apart. She can't breathe. And then the pain as he forces his way into her. He pushes against her, thrusts for an eternity until she can feel his slime inside of her.
Chloe leaned over the bed and threw up into her wastebasket. She retched from the memories, the intense sobs that stole her breath. She was hyperventilating and crying so hard she literally vomited. She cried so hard she threw up blood, having rubbed her trachea raw with her sobs.
Chloe shuddered with the force of the images, the force of the shame they brought. His slime had been inside of her, everywhere. What if it was still there? Chloe ran to the adjoining bathroom and turned the water on in the tub. She got it as hot as she could stand it, hotter. She grabbed a rough loofah sponge and scrubbed every inch of her skin, every hole and crevice, everywhere he had touched. She scoured until her tender skin bled, growing red and puffy from her abuse.
Chloe watched in dazed fascination as the blood dripped into the water. She watched as the water turned red – tainted. Just like she was. Damaged goods. She got out of the bath and dried herself off. She dried the small scrapes on her skin carefully.
She caught sight of her naked body in the bathroom mirror and froze. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. "Chloe, you're so beautiful." A chorus of a hundred different voices echoed in her mind. She was so beautiful, all her life she had been so beautiful. It's why the boys in the orphanage couldn't stop staring at her. It's why Phillip had wanted to be with her. It's why her 'father' had raped her. "Chloe, you're so beautiful," they chanted in her mind.
With a cry of anguish and rage, Chloe threw a hairbrush at the mirror – taking a perverse pleasure in watching it shatter into a thousand pieces still held in place by its backing.
She looked at the cracked mirror. It had once reflected Chloe the whole, now it reflected Chloe's parts – disconnected body parts. That's how she had felt, every time she sensed a man's eyes burning into her body. Like she wasn't a person, but a collection of parts. She looked in the mirror and saw herself. Shattered.
She rummaged through her closet for something to wear to bed. It was still early, but she was going to bed. She was going to bed and she was going to stay there until the world ended. She tossed aside the pretty, satiny nightgowns in disgust. She picked up one garment and smiled at the irony. It was the heavy, flannel, ugly sleep shirt that Brady had dressed her in the night Phillip attacked her. Perfect. She put on the oversized garment and smiled when it practically swallowed her body whole. She felt safe in it, comforted. She dug in her closet and found a large cardboard box.
Inside were her 'ghoul girl' clothes. She hadn't been able to bring herself to throw them all out. So she had kept some, just in case. She pulled out a heavy black sweater and hugged it to her. She crawled into bed with her security blanket and doubled up into a ball. She thought of Brady. The one person she always ran to when she was hurt was the one person she couldn't be around. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She knew things for her would never be the same. In a matter of twenty- four hours her world had been turned upside down, rocked to its very core. She smiled as she remembered last night. It had felt so wonderful to be close to Brady, in his arms, touching, kissing. But now that was over. Her 'father' had ruined her. She couldn't think of being with anyone, not even Brady, that way. It just hurt too much.
Chloe cried fresh tears into her pillow. She saw the look on Brady's face, the look in his eyes, as she walked away from him in the park. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face, her heart breaking. She cried for what might have been until she eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep. Not knowing that her soul mate, her missing half was not fifteen feet away, beneath her window, crying his own tears.