.:Chapter Four - It Can't Be...:.
.:Hope was ten years older than I was. She loved me more than my own mother did, and I didn't even know who my father was. I felt so alone in the world sometimes, so envious of the other children at school. They were happy and chatted with their friends, while I had none. They wanted to come to my house, but I could not bring them over. Not that I wanted to anyway! I didn't want anyone to see how I lived!:.
.:Jim continued to hurt Hope and I at least twice a week in the house, until he left me alone. He must have tired of me:.
.:I was in the kitchen one day, eight years old. Jim thought that since I was eight, I needed to do my share around the house. I was assigned to wash dishes. I had never been very coordinated in my life, and dropped things easily. Even though I tried to explain this to Jim, he shrugged me off, thinking I was trying to get out of work:.
.:"Damn little bastard. You should have to clean everything here! In this house! I tell ya to clean the damn dishes and you break one! You conniving little shit!" he screamed as I had accidently dropped a plate. As soon as the white china had shattered against the floor, I knew I was in trouble, for that was an expensive plate!:.
.:"Take off yer pants," he growled, stepping towards me so I would step back, finding I had trapped myself into a corner. He began to unbuckle his belt, and I shook my head. No, no, no! Don't do it again!:.
.:"Leave him alone, Jim!" Aunt Hope cried, running into the kitchen. She was my savior, my hero, and a fool. He turned to glare at her and moved for her instead. I pulled on his leg, hit at him, tried to get his attention back on me so he would leave her alone...I so wanted to protect her:.
.:But he shoved me aside brutally so my head hit the cabinets, and then he rammed my savior against the wall, pressing his mouth to hers so brutally her eyes went blank and rolled back into her head. I wanted to scream 'No!' but I knew if I did, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't stop. Not now:.
.:Tears were slipping down my cheeks, even as I sobbed as I watched Jim hit Hope again and again, leaving ugly black and bruises on her face and arms. He ripped her shirt open like a wild animal, and then slit her skirt apart. He roughly bit her neck and shoulders, leaving ugly red marks. Her eyes were tightly closed with fear, as she tried her best to hit at him, keep him away...but she was far too weak. And I was only a boy:.
.:I watched as he pulled his pants down, and pressed her so close against the wall she cried out in pain. My heart broke as he thrust into her, again and again, hitting her face, biting her pinching her skin so red blotches accompanied her bruises. And when he was finished, he threw her to the floor like she was garbage and walked out. I now knew that what he had done to her was called 'rape', for I had heard it mentioned on a movie once:.
.:She was bleeding, had cuts, bruises, red blotches, and sores all over her. I scrambled over to her, covering her with my blanket. She looked at me with kindess, and even though it must have felt like she were on fire, pulled me into her arms against her. Her body was covered with the blanket, but I sensed she hurt even as she held me tightly in her arms:.
.:"I wish I could take you away with me, Colvin," she whispered, kissing the top of my head, as tears glistened in her eyes:.
.:"I hurt Colvin..but what hurt more was seeing your tears, hearing you cry...oh Colvin...I hate what he's doing to us, to you..." she soothed, as she rested her cheek against my cheek:.
.:I was told I was worthless, a bastard with a no name father as I grew up. A whore's child. A child who would grow up to be just like his mother. Wild, untamed. So I was to be punished. Jim would come into my room and beat me, molest me, and use a knife to cut me. My mother would come home and would push me away if I tried to throw myself into her embrace:.
.:"Stop crying to me, you little faggot. You're a bastard child with no father. You deserve whatever you get," she said, her voice cold:.
.:I was thirteen years old, almost fourteen when one night Hope came into my room. She was almost twenty four. She stayed for me. I knew she did. She wished she could run off with me, but we both knew Jim would hunt us down and punish us severely, for he was afraid we would one day tell someone what he had done to us...:.
.:"What's wrong, Hope?" I asked, looking alarmed at the tears streaking down her face. I held my arms open as I sat upon my bed, and she ran to throw herself into my arms, where she broke down into uncontrollable sobs. I held her close to me, the only person I loved in this world:.
.:"Colvin....I missed two of my periods..." she whispered, as my eyes bulged with surprise. We had sex education at school, even though I had gotten all of the graphic parts about sex at home...and rape also. For Jim and Mother never cared if we saw them having sex together or not. Sometimes I wondered if they actually wanted an audience there to witness their pleasure:.
.:"Oh...Hope...no...it can't be," I whispered, as hot tears ran down her cheeks to fall upon my pajama shirt. She trembled in my arms, a woman who had went through much more than most her age. She appeared young, innocent at first glance, but when you looked deeper into her cerulean eyes, they were old eyes, eyes that feared and expected no happiness:.
.:"I am afraid I am...I'm gaining weight, Colvin...oh god...I don't know what to do..." Neither did I. How could we keep her safe, keep Mother and Jim from knowing? Hope finally decided she would try her best to hide it:.
.:"But how, when Jim comes to your room so often? He will notice!" I cried:.
.:"Oh Colvin...he doesn't come as much as he used to. I'm surprised I haven't gotten pregnant before this, for you know he uses no protection, ever...and your mother had her tubes tied after you was born so she wouldn't have any more children.":.
.:Not like she was really meant to be a mother anyways! I was her only child, and she treated me like a piece of furniture that cluttered up her space, her life:.
.:"Damn it Hope, one day I'm going to make them pay!" I cried, and Hope gripped my shoulders with as much strength as her weak hands could afford:.
.:"Stop that, Colvin Donahue Casteel! I hear enough of that language! Don't let them force the habit upon you too! Don't get so bitter over revenge that you scare women away, push away from someone who loves you. Don't let them take that special person inside you, Colvin. For you are so sweet...the sweetest guy I know. So stop it...we'll manage somehow...haven't we before?":.
.:Hope was right. We had managed to live through the worst of times. Hopefully we would be able to survive long enough to escape this house, to pursue our goals and dreams...I wanted more than anything to be a teacher. Some of the other guys at school laughed at me, taunted me, but I held firmly to my dream. I wanted to be a teacher so I could help my students. Being abused, I could help other children who were abused. I would know at first glance if they had ever been abused:.
.:Hope was ten years older than I was. She loved me more than my own mother did, and I didn't even know who my father was. I felt so alone in the world sometimes, so envious of the other children at school. They were happy and chatted with their friends, while I had none. They wanted to come to my house, but I could not bring them over. Not that I wanted to anyway! I didn't want anyone to see how I lived!:.
.:Jim continued to hurt Hope and I at least twice a week in the house, until he left me alone. He must have tired of me:.
.:I was in the kitchen one day, eight years old. Jim thought that since I was eight, I needed to do my share around the house. I was assigned to wash dishes. I had never been very coordinated in my life, and dropped things easily. Even though I tried to explain this to Jim, he shrugged me off, thinking I was trying to get out of work:.
.:"Damn little bastard. You should have to clean everything here! In this house! I tell ya to clean the damn dishes and you break one! You conniving little shit!" he screamed as I had accidently dropped a plate. As soon as the white china had shattered against the floor, I knew I was in trouble, for that was an expensive plate!:.
.:"Take off yer pants," he growled, stepping towards me so I would step back, finding I had trapped myself into a corner. He began to unbuckle his belt, and I shook my head. No, no, no! Don't do it again!:.
.:"Leave him alone, Jim!" Aunt Hope cried, running into the kitchen. She was my savior, my hero, and a fool. He turned to glare at her and moved for her instead. I pulled on his leg, hit at him, tried to get his attention back on me so he would leave her alone...I so wanted to protect her:.
.:But he shoved me aside brutally so my head hit the cabinets, and then he rammed my savior against the wall, pressing his mouth to hers so brutally her eyes went blank and rolled back into her head. I wanted to scream 'No!' but I knew if I did, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't stop. Not now:.
.:Tears were slipping down my cheeks, even as I sobbed as I watched Jim hit Hope again and again, leaving ugly black and bruises on her face and arms. He ripped her shirt open like a wild animal, and then slit her skirt apart. He roughly bit her neck and shoulders, leaving ugly red marks. Her eyes were tightly closed with fear, as she tried her best to hit at him, keep him away...but she was far too weak. And I was only a boy:.
.:I watched as he pulled his pants down, and pressed her so close against the wall she cried out in pain. My heart broke as he thrust into her, again and again, hitting her face, biting her pinching her skin so red blotches accompanied her bruises. And when he was finished, he threw her to the floor like she was garbage and walked out. I now knew that what he had done to her was called 'rape', for I had heard it mentioned on a movie once:.
.:She was bleeding, had cuts, bruises, red blotches, and sores all over her. I scrambled over to her, covering her with my blanket. She looked at me with kindess, and even though it must have felt like she were on fire, pulled me into her arms against her. Her body was covered with the blanket, but I sensed she hurt even as she held me tightly in her arms:.
.:"I wish I could take you away with me, Colvin," she whispered, kissing the top of my head, as tears glistened in her eyes:.
.:"I hurt Colvin..but what hurt more was seeing your tears, hearing you cry...oh Colvin...I hate what he's doing to us, to you..." she soothed, as she rested her cheek against my cheek:.
.:I was told I was worthless, a bastard with a no name father as I grew up. A whore's child. A child who would grow up to be just like his mother. Wild, untamed. So I was to be punished. Jim would come into my room and beat me, molest me, and use a knife to cut me. My mother would come home and would push me away if I tried to throw myself into her embrace:.
.:"Stop crying to me, you little faggot. You're a bastard child with no father. You deserve whatever you get," she said, her voice cold:.
.:I was thirteen years old, almost fourteen when one night Hope came into my room. She was almost twenty four. She stayed for me. I knew she did. She wished she could run off with me, but we both knew Jim would hunt us down and punish us severely, for he was afraid we would one day tell someone what he had done to us...:.
.:"What's wrong, Hope?" I asked, looking alarmed at the tears streaking down her face. I held my arms open as I sat upon my bed, and she ran to throw herself into my arms, where she broke down into uncontrollable sobs. I held her close to me, the only person I loved in this world:.
.:"Colvin....I missed two of my periods..." she whispered, as my eyes bulged with surprise. We had sex education at school, even though I had gotten all of the graphic parts about sex at home...and rape also. For Jim and Mother never cared if we saw them having sex together or not. Sometimes I wondered if they actually wanted an audience there to witness their pleasure:.
.:"Oh...Hope...no...it can't be," I whispered, as hot tears ran down her cheeks to fall upon my pajama shirt. She trembled in my arms, a woman who had went through much more than most her age. She appeared young, innocent at first glance, but when you looked deeper into her cerulean eyes, they were old eyes, eyes that feared and expected no happiness:.
.:"I am afraid I am...I'm gaining weight, Colvin...oh god...I don't know what to do..." Neither did I. How could we keep her safe, keep Mother and Jim from knowing? Hope finally decided she would try her best to hide it:.
.:"But how, when Jim comes to your room so often? He will notice!" I cried:.
.:"Oh Colvin...he doesn't come as much as he used to. I'm surprised I haven't gotten pregnant before this, for you know he uses no protection, ever...and your mother had her tubes tied after you was born so she wouldn't have any more children.":.
.:Not like she was really meant to be a mother anyways! I was her only child, and she treated me like a piece of furniture that cluttered up her space, her life:.
.:"Damn it Hope, one day I'm going to make them pay!" I cried, and Hope gripped my shoulders with as much strength as her weak hands could afford:.
.:"Stop that, Colvin Donahue Casteel! I hear enough of that language! Don't let them force the habit upon you too! Don't get so bitter over revenge that you scare women away, push away from someone who loves you. Don't let them take that special person inside you, Colvin. For you are so sweet...the sweetest guy I know. So stop it...we'll manage somehow...haven't we before?":.
.:Hope was right. We had managed to live through the worst of times. Hopefully we would be able to survive long enough to escape this house, to pursue our goals and dreams...I wanted more than anything to be a teacher. Some of the other guys at school laughed at me, taunted me, but I held firmly to my dream. I wanted to be a teacher so I could help my students. Being abused, I could help other children who were abused. I would know at first glance if they had ever been abused:.