She lay in her bed, hugging her knees to her chest as the tears rolled down
her cheeks. She felt so alone, so unwanted.
"I tried to please you dad, I did everything, you forced me to do everything," she whispered into her pillow.
She tried to ignore the bruises on her arms, the bleeding of her tongue.
He did that.
The thought came before she could suppress it.
He did lot's of things.
Suddenly the walls she had built around the memories came crashing down around her. The painful images leaked into her consciousness uninvited.
Her father above her, bearing down on her like a shark on it's prey.
His teeth closing around her neck, her lips, her tongue.
His hands on her flesh, white from lack of exposure to the sun.
The taste of his breath in her mouth.
The blade of his knife pressed into her thigh.
The feel of him, moving in and out of her.
Then her.
Her voice, screaming in protest.
Her hands, clawing into his back, pushing him away, fighting.. Until she realised he enjoyed her struggles.
Her lungs, gasping and struggling for air at the onset of her asthma. The burning in her chest, like molten fire as she fought for every breath.
The rigidness of her body, lying paralysed in her bed as he loomed above her.
The sickening whirling within her stomach, complimenting her convulsive shudders.
The angry tears that slid down her cheeks as she pressed her eyes closed, trying to block out the scene unfolding around her.
She cried to herself, choking, racking sobs coming from deep within her chest, willing the emptiness inside her to flood out with the tears.
The aching inside her chest was becoming hard to bear. In a deep wheezing gasp, she reached for her inhaler.
Inserting in her mouth and breathing deeply, she tried to ignore the hand tightening around her windpipe.
"Breathe!" she ordered herself quietly, "It'll be Ok, you'll be Ok."
Still fighting to restore her respiration, she heard the front door close and her mother's laugh echo in the hallway.
Her stupid whore faced mother, who did know anything about her father. Her stupid mother who still made her go to her father every week. Made her go to him to be humiliated, to be stripped of whatever innocence she had left.
Her mother's voice drifted through the door, bright and airy. Giggling at the lame jokes of her latest boyfriend.
The girl inhaled noisily in disgust.
Every Wednesday and Friday night it was the same..
"I'm going out tonight, do you mind sweetie?"
"Yes, I damn well mind," she shouted in a raspy whisper hitting the pillow, "I hate you. You always go out with these stupid bastards who are just completely wasted half the time. What about me mother? Don't you care about me? Why? What did I do?"
Then she was banished to her fathers house for a weekend visit to hell.
She hated that house with such passion.
The curtains were always drawn, creating a dark, dank atmosphere in the living room. The windows were never opened. The bedrooms were musty and the dust set off her asthma. The stench of rotting fish in the kitchen was disgusting.
That was her father's second love-after his sadist habits- fishing.
Ever since she could remember, her father had smelt of fish. He was happier on his boat than anywhere in the world.
Then the accident happened.
Her father's boat had smashed up against the huge breakwater in the bay during a storm. He had been left with the vision of only one eye, and horrendous burns down one side of his body. After that accident, nothing was the same.
Her mother had filed for a divorce.
Her father had slipped into an abusive depression.
She buried her head in the pillow again.
That stupid accident.
It had wrecked everything: her father's boat, her parent's marriage, her life.
"Why? Why did you do it God? Why don't you care about me?" she asked the pillow bitterly, "Why does no one care about me?"
* * * * * *
"I tried to please you dad, I did everything, you forced me to do everything," she whispered into her pillow.
She tried to ignore the bruises on her arms, the bleeding of her tongue.
He did that.
The thought came before she could suppress it.
He did lot's of things.
Suddenly the walls she had built around the memories came crashing down around her. The painful images leaked into her consciousness uninvited.
Her father above her, bearing down on her like a shark on it's prey.
His teeth closing around her neck, her lips, her tongue.
His hands on her flesh, white from lack of exposure to the sun.
The taste of his breath in her mouth.
The blade of his knife pressed into her thigh.
The feel of him, moving in and out of her.
Then her.
Her voice, screaming in protest.
Her hands, clawing into his back, pushing him away, fighting.. Until she realised he enjoyed her struggles.
Her lungs, gasping and struggling for air at the onset of her asthma. The burning in her chest, like molten fire as she fought for every breath.
The rigidness of her body, lying paralysed in her bed as he loomed above her.
The sickening whirling within her stomach, complimenting her convulsive shudders.
The angry tears that slid down her cheeks as she pressed her eyes closed, trying to block out the scene unfolding around her.
She cried to herself, choking, racking sobs coming from deep within her chest, willing the emptiness inside her to flood out with the tears.
The aching inside her chest was becoming hard to bear. In a deep wheezing gasp, she reached for her inhaler.
Inserting in her mouth and breathing deeply, she tried to ignore the hand tightening around her windpipe.
"Breathe!" she ordered herself quietly, "It'll be Ok, you'll be Ok."
Still fighting to restore her respiration, she heard the front door close and her mother's laugh echo in the hallway.
Her stupid whore faced mother, who did know anything about her father. Her stupid mother who still made her go to her father every week. Made her go to him to be humiliated, to be stripped of whatever innocence she had left.
Her mother's voice drifted through the door, bright and airy. Giggling at the lame jokes of her latest boyfriend.
The girl inhaled noisily in disgust.
Every Wednesday and Friday night it was the same..
"I'm going out tonight, do you mind sweetie?"
"Yes, I damn well mind," she shouted in a raspy whisper hitting the pillow, "I hate you. You always go out with these stupid bastards who are just completely wasted half the time. What about me mother? Don't you care about me? Why? What did I do?"
Then she was banished to her fathers house for a weekend visit to hell.
She hated that house with such passion.
The curtains were always drawn, creating a dark, dank atmosphere in the living room. The windows were never opened. The bedrooms were musty and the dust set off her asthma. The stench of rotting fish in the kitchen was disgusting.
That was her father's second love-after his sadist habits- fishing.
Ever since she could remember, her father had smelt of fish. He was happier on his boat than anywhere in the world.
Then the accident happened.
Her father's boat had smashed up against the huge breakwater in the bay during a storm. He had been left with the vision of only one eye, and horrendous burns down one side of his body. After that accident, nothing was the same.
Her mother had filed for a divorce.
Her father had slipped into an abusive depression.
She buried her head in the pillow again.
That stupid accident.
It had wrecked everything: her father's boat, her parent's marriage, her life.
"Why? Why did you do it God? Why don't you care about me?" she asked the pillow bitterly, "Why does no one care about me?"
* * * * * *