Chapter 2.it's short but I actually had a request, oooh! As before, this
whole fic is dedicated to RegFrankieFan.
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As she grew older it became more apparent that Magenta had inherited our mother's temperament. Although normally distancing herself from the world and remaining aloof, she could be extremely vicious when provoked. She had a heart of gold but would not stand for her principles to be compromised. One evening she seemed to lash out particularly strongly, Frank had suggested that my sister was of no use for anything except sexual favours, a comment that angered us both, but my first responsibility lay with protecting my sister both from herself and from Frank, by holding her back, restraining her, keeping her from trying to harm him because she was the one who would be given a beating. She spat at him instead. I rarely saw my sister quite this furious, she was trembling with rage in my arms. I often felt frustration at her behaviour and regularly warned her of the trouble it would land her in, how I wouldn't always be around to talk her out of it, but no amount of warning or pleading could have calmed Frank down this time. He had me dragged back to the servants quarters by a pair of Royal bodyguards, leaving me alone with only horrendous images of what may have been happening to my sister.
The hours passed and my fear for her welfare grew at an exponential rate. I knew that the Furters were holding a banquet that evening, so maybe Magenta would be safe from Frank's lechery, but I strongly doubted it. He wasn't using her as a tool to hurt me with this time, this time he had it in for her and wanted to hurt her personally, brutally. This though, once it had entered my mind, would not budge. My thoughts raced through horrific visions of him beating her, hitting her, abusing her and-but surely he wouldn't-not even Frank would- he can't have been that much of a monster that he would rape her?
How I wish I could have believed myself when I thought that, but deep down I knew exactly what Frank was doing to her. I glanced at the clock- midnight, he'd have done it by now. He'd stolen the innocence of my pure sweetheart, my love, my baby sister, and what had I done? I had sat here, crying like a baby, but if I'd gone back for her. . . what he would have done then didn't bear thinking about, as if anything could possibly be worse than this. The thought of his skin against hers, his hands on her delicate body, her precious form. . . and she wouldn't fight back, she would be powerless against him, there was nothing she would be able to do, he was so much stronger than her and had the power to kill either of us should she resist his vile, naked flesh against her virginal frame. . .
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As she grew older it became more apparent that Magenta had inherited our mother's temperament. Although normally distancing herself from the world and remaining aloof, she could be extremely vicious when provoked. She had a heart of gold but would not stand for her principles to be compromised. One evening she seemed to lash out particularly strongly, Frank had suggested that my sister was of no use for anything except sexual favours, a comment that angered us both, but my first responsibility lay with protecting my sister both from herself and from Frank, by holding her back, restraining her, keeping her from trying to harm him because she was the one who would be given a beating. She spat at him instead. I rarely saw my sister quite this furious, she was trembling with rage in my arms. I often felt frustration at her behaviour and regularly warned her of the trouble it would land her in, how I wouldn't always be around to talk her out of it, but no amount of warning or pleading could have calmed Frank down this time. He had me dragged back to the servants quarters by a pair of Royal bodyguards, leaving me alone with only horrendous images of what may have been happening to my sister.
The hours passed and my fear for her welfare grew at an exponential rate. I knew that the Furters were holding a banquet that evening, so maybe Magenta would be safe from Frank's lechery, but I strongly doubted it. He wasn't using her as a tool to hurt me with this time, this time he had it in for her and wanted to hurt her personally, brutally. This though, once it had entered my mind, would not budge. My thoughts raced through horrific visions of him beating her, hitting her, abusing her and-but surely he wouldn't-not even Frank would- he can't have been that much of a monster that he would rape her?
How I wish I could have believed myself when I thought that, but deep down I knew exactly what Frank was doing to her. I glanced at the clock- midnight, he'd have done it by now. He'd stolen the innocence of my pure sweetheart, my love, my baby sister, and what had I done? I had sat here, crying like a baby, but if I'd gone back for her. . . what he would have done then didn't bear thinking about, as if anything could possibly be worse than this. The thought of his skin against hers, his hands on her delicate body, her precious form. . . and she wouldn't fight back, she would be powerless against him, there was nothing she would be able to do, he was so much stronger than her and had the power to kill either of us should she resist his vile, naked flesh against her virginal frame. . .
