5th Chapter. Typing these up is the most boring thing in the world. But
if I don't, then I don't get to share them and then the writing would be
pointless! This is a shortie, but I wanted to include a chapter like this.
Enjoy!
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We stayed there until the next morning, gently drifting in and out of sleep. I woke several times with a start as last night's horrific events replayed themselves in my mind, but every time I awoke, Riff Raff would kiss my cheek and whisper softly to me, tightening his arms around me, until I was lulled back to sleep.
From then on, I tried to put the events of that awful night behind me. Neither Riff nor myself ever mentioned it to our mother. I think she guessed that I was now sexually active, secretly thrilled that I was finally growing up. The truth would have killed her. She had served the Furter family since she was half my age and in her eyes the family could do no wrong.
My relationship with my brother had not deteriorated as I had at first feared, we were now closer than ever. My love for him grew by the day and I prayed every night that he could feel the same way. I was no longer worried by the social stigma associated with incest, all I knew was that my brother would take care of me, always. He was the only man I would ever be able to trust now. For two days after my ordeal, he took my duties upon himself in addition to his own, but I knew that I couldn't avoid Frank forever. I was sickened to return to work and find Frank behaving just as he always had. Sickened, but not surprised by his complete lack of remorse. I couldn't bear the thought of being left alone with the master again, luckily this wasn't an issue; my brother wouldn't let me out of his sight whenever Frank was around, much to the annoyance of the master, Riff Raff always seemed to come up with an excuse so that I need never be alone, for which I was immeasurably grateful.
Two weeks after my experience with Frank, our mother was working a late shift, leaving my brother and I home alone again. We normally sat snuggled together on the sofa, so our kissing was simply and extension of our closeness and our eventual lovemaking was, as we saw it, a deeper way of expressing our affection and loyalty to one another. I was not, and never will be, ashamed of our love. Incest was a filthy word, a filthy word for a filthy thing. If incest was so wrong then this simply couldn't be called incest. We were just two people, deeply in love. The fact that we were brother and sister didn't have to make that wrong.
How could emotion as deep as ours possibly be wrong?
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We stayed there until the next morning, gently drifting in and out of sleep. I woke several times with a start as last night's horrific events replayed themselves in my mind, but every time I awoke, Riff Raff would kiss my cheek and whisper softly to me, tightening his arms around me, until I was lulled back to sleep.
From then on, I tried to put the events of that awful night behind me. Neither Riff nor myself ever mentioned it to our mother. I think she guessed that I was now sexually active, secretly thrilled that I was finally growing up. The truth would have killed her. She had served the Furter family since she was half my age and in her eyes the family could do no wrong.
My relationship with my brother had not deteriorated as I had at first feared, we were now closer than ever. My love for him grew by the day and I prayed every night that he could feel the same way. I was no longer worried by the social stigma associated with incest, all I knew was that my brother would take care of me, always. He was the only man I would ever be able to trust now. For two days after my ordeal, he took my duties upon himself in addition to his own, but I knew that I couldn't avoid Frank forever. I was sickened to return to work and find Frank behaving just as he always had. Sickened, but not surprised by his complete lack of remorse. I couldn't bear the thought of being left alone with the master again, luckily this wasn't an issue; my brother wouldn't let me out of his sight whenever Frank was around, much to the annoyance of the master, Riff Raff always seemed to come up with an excuse so that I need never be alone, for which I was immeasurably grateful.
Two weeks after my experience with Frank, our mother was working a late shift, leaving my brother and I home alone again. We normally sat snuggled together on the sofa, so our kissing was simply and extension of our closeness and our eventual lovemaking was, as we saw it, a deeper way of expressing our affection and loyalty to one another. I was not, and never will be, ashamed of our love. Incest was a filthy word, a filthy word for a filthy thing. If incest was so wrong then this simply couldn't be called incest. We were just two people, deeply in love. The fact that we were brother and sister didn't have to make that wrong.
How could emotion as deep as ours possibly be wrong?