Edward had a theory. That was that people who had some happiness, or at least some positive motivation worked more effectively. So John had revenge of a sort, Benny had his fix, and the girls got their small doses of obliviation... and other little treats. And, all of his other "personnel" got something. It didn't take Edward long to realize Jackson was not happy at all about losing control of his personal pet. In fact, the third or fourth time Jackson arrived to find me engaged in some harmless activity while seated on Benny's lap... the whole house heard his displeasure.i eyed him warily. Benny ignored him. John had that gleam in his eye he got when he was figuring someone needed a good dose of act right. i had been one of Edward's girls for about 3 months then. As, Edward had promised on that first night, i was adjusting to my new life. i was getting to the point where i often didn't cry on dates. i had learned how to woo John's pocket without annoying him. And, i had began to really enjoy being Benny's favorite. i liked my fairly safe post on his lap. i still thought often about escape, but i was beginning to accept my fate.And, then Jackson pitched his fit. He ranted and raved and called me every foul name he could conjure. i was not supposed to have a single second wherein i didn't feel wretched. John watched this display for a while, looking like Christmas had just come early. When Jackson finally reached out and jerked me off Benny's lap, knocked me to the door and dealt me three smart kicks to the ribs, Benny erupted from his chair. The two of them drug Jackson away from me. Then they proceeded to take turns holding him while the other punched him repeatedly in the ribs. i couldn't find the air to ask them to stop, please stop before they made it worse. Suddenly, i couldn't seem to breath at all. i knew there was definitely something badly wrong with me.Finally, John ended this beating by saying very softly, "Don't damage the merchandise, asshole," and punching Jackson in the face. He went down like a lead weight. Benny added one last kick then came over and examined me."Oh fuck, John. I think she needs a doctor," he sighed while prodding my ribs in an extremely painful fashion. John glowered at Jackson a minute more. Then he turned to the table where Pearl and Lindy sat completely frozen."One of you go tell Edward we have a situation."
i don't know where i want to go this week. If you can say i want to go through any of these doors at all. i find myself becoming greedy. i get a great amount of relief from putting this stuff here. Most of the stuff i've divulged here, i've never told another human being. Well, to clarify, i have told J in a sketchy outline many many things. But, i've never told anyone these detailed events. There is something very freeing about putting them here. Almost as if by chaining them to this blog... they cannot roam free in my head anymore. They are still there, i'm sure they will never leave me... but not rattling around and sneaking up on me while i'm trying to wash the dishes or reading Harry Potter yet again.There are so many things left. So many things i want chained down. Its hard to pick one. Do i want to spend this week ridding myself of the necklace once and for all? Or would it be nicer to have control finally of the red light? i don't know. And, the not knowing has given me a rather nasty case of writer's block. i try to begin the necklace, and i don't know where to start. So i try to begin the red light, and i realize i'll probably have to go into the basement and i freeze. i've been trying to write this damn thing for about 45 minutes and don't have a single word.So here is a memory that stands alone. It won't be tied to anything else this week most likely. The rest of the week's entries may have to be a little longer so i can finish up with one of those stories by Friday. Because i just don't want to poke at this stuff over a weekend, and i am not yet at a point where i can stuff it back into the closet for the weekend.
i've mentioned before that Marcie was very good to me when i was little. She was in fact one of the few things that made life worth living. i loved her intensely and often suspected that perhaps she was my real mother. (i've thought about this too as an adult. She swears it isn't so.)i used to fantasize that Marcie got an apartment and came to collect me. Telling me she was my real mother and was ready to take care of me now. In my dreams she came and whisked me away and hit Granddaddy when he tried to stop her. These fantasies always ended with her picking me up and striding out of that house to her car. We would drive away with the radio blaring into a bright new future.This was never to be. When i was about 6 or so, the alligators got her. Marcie always drank too much. Everybody in my family drank too much. That was not really thought of as a big deal. In the land of the blind, the nearsighted man is king. And, in the alcoholic family, the drinking problem is not shit. A drug problem is a different matter entirely.The problem began, i think when she went to Baltimore. She went with her then boyfriend who dumped her once there. He kicked her out and she ended up with a gang of bikers and i believe was abused very badly. She was gone 6 months and finally hitch hiked home. The girl who returned was not the girl who left.She was distant, jumpy, vacant. Her vitality was gone. Soon enough the answer turned up. She was strung out. Although she was still good to me, she came to see me less. To everyone else in the family, she had become a hostile stranger. She lied, stole, swindled. She never kept her promises and she behaved erratically. Finally, she attempted suicide.She was in a coma for days. When she awoke, she was pissed off she was still alive. At first my parents thought she had inherited my mother mental instability. Since she was an adult they couldn't commit her to a hospital without a judge. And, Marcie could be (still can) the most charming person in the world. She always convinced the judge that my parents were just pissed off at her.They cycle continued. She burned bridges and hurt everyone she loved. Then she would attempt suicide. Why she never died is beyond me. Some of the things she did SHOULD have killed her. But they didn't. Finally my parents thought to ask one of the judges to drug test her. And, at this point the truth came to light. Marcie was on about every illegal evil substance money could buy.The day she went to rehab, was also the day i starred in a ballet production. i was little red riding hood, and i arrived and left the show in a cab. Not a single member of my family saw my one great triumph.When i returned to my grandparent's house that night, she had left me a letter. Of course, my Granddaddy had a price for that letter. i lay in my bed when he was through, cum and blood dripping from between my legs with the letter finally clasped in my hand. And, i couldn't read it. i just knew that it said that she was my mother, but that she didn't want me or love me. i smelled it, it had her scent on it. She always was smelled like flowers and the beach. i knew her rejection was more than i could bear.Finally, i managed to get out of the bed. i crept to the bathroom, taking care to wipe up the bloody mess i left as i went. i tore the letter unopened into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. i returned to bed and pulled my magic blanket over me. (An old quilt my mother's mother had made.) i pulled close the huge teddy bear Marcie had given me and cried myself to sleep. Convinced that i had made her stop loving me somehow.
One frosty winter weekend when i was staying with Vanessa and JH we had an indoor snowball fight. It was early Saturday morning and JH was gone to the store. Iris, Jenny, Vanessa and i were all in Vanessa's king size waterbed watching cartoons. Vanessa and i were painting each other's fingernails and the girls were, of course, bouncing around like superballs on crack. The heat had been left on too high the night before and it was stifling in the trailer. Vanessa bitched mightily and cursed JH for a fool. Little did we know, JH had returned and was outside the bedroom window.Little did we know, that is, until he boomed in the back door dragging a bucket of snow. He hurtled down the hall and pelted us with snowballs. Vanessa jumped up screeching and laughing. She called her girls to help and wrestled the bucket away from JH. Iris and Jenny managed to trip JH and he fell to the bed laughing, Iris pouncing onto his belly. Vanessa dumped the remainder of the snow on him and he squealed like a girl. Jenny snatched up the bucket and ran outside for a refill.At this point Vanessa noticed me in a corner of the waterbed watching their family frolic. She always tried to include me. Always. Sometimes when i was at Vanessa's, for a few minutes i didn't feel like an outsider. And, this was to be one of those times."Oh no you don't!," she yelled, laughing. "Oh no! You don't think you're not getting wet do you? Oh no!"Iris and JH took up the cry of "Oh no!" as the backdoor boomed open again and we heard Jenny struggling with the bucket. Vanessa ran to help her. Iris hopped on me, and started yelling for Jenny to come put her cold feet on me. And, down the hall that little blonde imp flew. She jumped on the bed and shoved her icy little feet under me. Before i knew it i was giggling and playing with the rest of them.Snowballs flew for over a half an hour, leaving the room a soaking mess. It was worth every minute of cleaning it up, because we all had a blast.
Soon enough the screaming stopped. A while later John emerged, tucking in his shirt and zipping his fly. He was trailed by Kayla, still sniffling and weaving unsteadily on her feet. He dispatched April to tend her and Pearl to get her something to calm her down. Then he told Candy to get ready for a date. He instructed her on how to wear her hair and what kind of clothes to wear. Then he dispensed yet more helpful little friends from the cellophane in his pocket. i began to see the power of John's pocket in the grateful looks on the other girl's faces when he reached into it.Before i knew it, i was alone with the two men. i began to tremble violently and suddenly the full impact of my situation hit me. i had been, for all intents and purposes, sold. These men would hurt me, badly, if i didn't comply with their demands. i was alone, and my only hope for survival lay in obedience. i felt my tears start again. Fearing their displeasure i was as quite as possible and i put my head down.John looked at me and sighed. He sat down at the little card table and held his hand out to me."Look kid, I know this is hard. But, you have just got to get a handle on it. I can help you. But, only if you let me. Do you want me to help you?"i nodded my head and tried hard to stem the flow of my tears."Alright. Pick your head up. Stop crying. Take this," he reached in that helpful pocket again, and i knew the relief those other girls felt. He handed over two more pink pills and i swallowed them greedily. Waiting for the sense of peace i had felt earlier to descend with very little patience.Benny took the other chair at the card table and pulled me into his lap. Then he began to discuss me as if i wasn't there. Looking back, i think he wanted to give me some idea as to what to expect for the rest of the night."Has Edward had his run at her yet?""No, he had to set up Lindy's trip to the doctor. Had to find a good one, we can't afford to loose her, she's a good earner."Benny nodded."I want her tonight. Use her first if you want, but I want her in my bed. I know Edward doesn't like it, but I like 'em to feel like a woman. I miss tits, man."John laughed. He waved the considerations of my night's bed partner away and went to more practical matters."But, what are we going to call her? You know I can't keep calling her kid."They discussed me in this fashion for some time. As though i wasn't sitting there on Benny's lap. Eventually i relaxed and lay back against him. Letting myself drift in the carefree haze John provided. i decided to dismiss my earlier fear and disgust with him. The man was a god, he had my salvation in his pocket. i needed those pills. i would have to stay on his good side.i must have dozed a bit, because some time later i felt myself being carried. i opened my eyes and found myself in a room i didn't recognize. i was laid on a leather couch.i looked around in confusion until i heard Edward's voice."Hello there sleeping beauty. Feeling better?"i nodded my head.He stepped around the massive desk and stood in front of me. i could only look up at him in curiosity. my brain was still clouded and i noticed only his vivid purple shit. He seemed happy with whatever he saw because he smiled and sank onto the couch with me.He guided my head to his crotch and i nuzzled his cock. This was familiar territory. Perversely, for the first time all night i felt fairly at ease. Here was a hard cock. This was something i understood and knew what to do with. i used my mouth as i had been taught so many years before. Licking, stroking, tonguing him. i tried my best to bring him off, but he put his hand in the back of my hair and pulled me up. He pressed me back on the sofa and pulled my thighs apart. i trembled only a little. i knew it would hurt, it always hurt, but i could stand it. This too was something i understood. i whimpered at the familiar tearing pain, but didn't cry out, i was used to it."Damn, you're tight. I think we could say you are a virgin."His words washed over me with no real comprehension. i pumped my hips against him, tightening my muscles the way JH had instructed me. The pain grew worse as his thrusting became violent, but i never cried out. Eventually a few tears leaked from my eyes but i focused all of my energy on the task at hand. Soon enough he grabbed my shoulders and shuddered. i felt the jerkings of his cock inside me as he poured his cum into me. i lay still and waited.He climbed off of me and sat at the end of the couch looking down on me. Slowly he began to smile."Well, I'll be damned honey. You are a gold mine. You are going to make me a fortune."
Oh, fantastic. The scars from all those times Granddaddy fucked, have fucked me again.
At this point i did something completely uncalculated. But, it saved my life at least three times, saved me from countless beatings, and won me many small comforts and even the occasional scrap of food.i reached out and put my small hand on his bulging forearm. He looked down at me in surprise and i noticed his eyes were shiny, his breathing ragged. i saw that the man was nearly as upset by what he had been doing as i was. And, god knows why, but i felt a surge of compassion.i whispered, "You have a hard job." and embraced him.To this day i can't think why i did it. i condoned his brutally beating a 14 year old girl for being unable to make some prick cum. But, to my eternal shame, i don't really regret that i did it. Because it made me Benny's favorite. Instantly.He enfolded me in his huge arms and held onto me for a few long seconds. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and confused i lay my head on his chest and hung on.He rubbed my back and whispered, "Edward uses all the new girls first. But, you're going to sleep in my bed tonight."And, after the things i had seen. i was grateful. Sleeping in this man's bed would be preferable to John's. i was terrified of John. A fear that would only grow. A fear that was completely founded.And, he took me over and made the introductions i had expected John to make. The girls at the table were Candy (of course, *sigh*, if i had a nickle for every girl i met called Candy i'd be rich, i guess no one was feeling very creative on her first night.) and April.While we were standing there, the girl on the pool table finished up with her guy. He put himself back together quickly and she tied his tie for him. He kissed her cheek and told her he'd see her the next week. On his way out he stopped and handed Benny a hundred dollar bill."I swear Pearl, I don't know why John always gives you the easy ones," he grinned at her. She shrugged and laughed and pulled a nightie over her head."Cuz I'm his favorite."This playful banter seemed reassuring, until i noticed the looks of clear dislike on the faces of the other two girls. Apparently, being John's favorite was a hard thing to accomplish.Listening to the sounds drifting in from the other room... i was terrified of getting on John's bad side.
Meeting the girls was not what i expected. John took my hand and led me (finally!) from the kitchen. We went in the opposite direction from the one Edward had taken. We went down a long hallway. Glancing in open doorways as we went by i saw at least two bedrooms, with bunk beds. Finally we reached the end of the hall and John pulled open the door leading me down steps into an enormous basement. The first room looked more or less like everybody else's basement rec room. But, the next room was a surprise. The nastiest part of the surprise was the muted screams i heard the second the door opened. my head jerked up, and i searched the room, but none of the three girls there were screaming.Two of them were playing cards. They sat at a little card table in the corner. They were laughing companionably, passing a bowl back and forth. Neither seemed to notice our entrance, nor the sounds of the third girl. She was bent over the pool table that stood in the center of the room. A man in a nice suit was taking her from behind. His pants pooled ridiculously about his ankles. She sighed and moaned in an obviously rehearsed manner. John cleared his throat loudly, and her eyes widened. She began to rock her hips immediately, and her sounds became much more genuine.i expected to be introduced to the girls at the card table, but John led me across the room instead. He opened yet another door and the screams were no longer muted. They were urgent, desperate pleading wails that were extremely LOUD. And, now that the thick metal door was open i could hear the swish and thud as the car antenna whistled through the air. As we drew nearer i would hear the splatting sound it made as it landed on her skin... and occasionally a nasty ripping sound.Her back was nothing but red welts and her ass even worse. She had quite a few places where the skin was broken, and blood dripped sluggishly to the floor. The enormous man applying the lash heard our approach and turned around. He thrust the antenna at John."Goddamn it! You know I hate that shit! Where the fuck have you been? Its about done now..."John laughed. He took the antenna and drug me forward. "Benny, this is Edward's new girl. I haven't given her a name."i nodded at Benny, too afraid to even really look at him. my eyes kept being drawn back to the horror that was the girl in front of me.John stood next to her, whispering to her, caressing her long blonde hair. i noticed the enormous bulge in his pants and shuddered.He addressed me without looking at me, "Kid, this is Kayla. Kayla came home short. She didn't bring the guy off. But, she's sorry. And, that will never happen again." He buried his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, "Will it?"She shook her head frantically. Her hands were tied high over her head, but i saw her attempting to rub her body against his crotch. He let her do it, finally turning his head to look at me. The smile on his face chilled my blood. i remembered Edward's assurances that John sometimes liked giving lessons in obedience. i took a step back from him and trod on the foot of the other man.i turned to look up at him. He was gazing down at me with some mixture of disgust and sympathy. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me back across the room."Come on kid, let's get the fuck out of here."Just before we reached the door, John yelled after us."How many left?"Benny flinched. He was never that great at this part of the job."Fifteen," he muttered, reluctantly.The girl Kayla began to sob again, and Benny jerked the door open. i prayed it would close again before i had to hear that horrible ripping sound again. But, it didn't.i added another rule to my mental list. Do not fail.
Shit. Bear with me folks. i had planned on discussing my first client today. And, the role DID played in making that client a steady for me. But, i then realized i had forgotten to finish telling you about the first night at Edward's. And, a very important couple of events. So, bear with me. i'm pleading lack of sleep.
Now, lets return to that first weekend.After Jackson left, Edward informed me of the rules. The first and most important rule was keeping my mouth shut. Should anyone ever show up at that house on my direction, someone would pay me a visit. i wouldn't like to spend the rest of my days trying to communicate missing my tongue and both index fingers. i don't know if these threats were real or mere intimidation... i liked my tongue and was partial to my fingers as well. i kept my mouth shut.The second rule was obediance. i was going to do what i was told to do. Period. i could do it after an extremely unpleasant convincing, or i could just do it. The choice was mine, and no one's feelings would be hurt if i felt i needed a lesson in obediance. i was assured that, in fact, John occasionaly really LIKED to give lessons in obediance. The third rule concerned my depressing figure. i was too fat. No 12 year old should have tits. And, my ass was just ridiculous. Loose weight. Or else. Willing starvation was preferable to coerced starvation. ( Try as i might, i never did manage to conform to this rule to Edward's satisfaction. Even when my ribs and hip bones poked through so much i began to look like an animated skeleton, my tits were still there, and my ass. There was no getting rid of them. They were a curse. A loudly lamented one that couldn't be cured... though we all tried very hard.)Edward assured me if i followed those three rules i would get used to my new life. He crossed the kitchen to where i stood in shocked horror. He tilted my chin up so that i was looking him in the eye."You are here. Maybe thats a shitty thing for you. Too bad. This is your life now. You are mine. You can still go back to that little hick town and sit next to Suzy Highschool. But, don't start thinking you are like her. You aren't. Until I say different, you are whatever I tell you to be. Do you understand me?"i nodded. He squeezed my chin painfully, and i whispered yes.He let me go and chuckled."Cheer up. Its not all bad. Some things can be rather fun. I've got some other things to see to. John can show you around and introduce you to a few of the girls. Later tonight we'll all get better acquainted."With that he walked out of the kitchen and back into the room that he had taken Jackson to. i stood there trembling, trying to get my chemically altered mind wrapped around these rather stunning developments. i felt like everything was happening at warp speed. Just a few hours ago, i had been worried about my pre-algebra homework.
And, so now its time to pause and learn a little about whats wrong with me. i have dissociative identity disorder, DID for short. This used to be called multiple personality disorder, and that is much more descriptive if a bit misleading. Let me try to give you an extremely brief overview.DID is usually caused by severe and continuous child abuse. It generally cannot developed after age five or so. To put it in layman's terms, the conditions usually have to be: a fairly intelligent young child with a life that is unbearable and inescapable. The child creates an escape hatch in their own mind by creating alternate states of consciousness. These "alters" protect the child by allowing them to escape the abuse for a period of time and keeping them from remembering things that would make life too frightening and hopeless.From what i can tell (with the help of those lovely mental heal professionals and J, who actually is usually a lot more help) i developed this condition around the age of 3. For as long as i can remember i have lost time, been told i did things i had no memory of doing, and been told i called myself by different names and not remembered doing so. i didn't actually get my diagnosis until i was 21 years old. J had an inkling before that, but i was stubborn and wouldn't believe him.i have over 100 waking parts. Fragments of a life shattered over and over. The ages of those parts vary from 2 to 42. A few parts age, but the great majority do not. A three year old is three forever. Forever trapped in the trauma that caused my child's mind to create it. By far and large the most of my parts are in one of two age ranges. They are either very young children (ages 3 to 8) or very young teens(ages 11 to 14.) i know i have lost many of you. Maybe even most of you. For a variety of reasons. Its complicated, it sounds like science fiction, the stigma attached to mental illness, blah blah blah. It doesn't matter. We cannot continue this story until you understand that there were parts of me that were (and are) still children.And, to be honest... there is one other reason you, my faithful readers who have made it this far, should know all of this. i try to tell these stories with as much detachment as i can. If i let every little thing destroy me, i'll never get it all told. But, it did and does affect me. Greatly.
my other sister, Marcie was also very very good to me. She was 14 years older than me, and thought of me as a very cool baby doll, i think. For years i thought The Ballard of Curtis Lowe was a lullaby. And, it was Marcie that bought me the big wheel.It was yellow and black, and i could fly on it. Marcie had a yellow camero, so i called my yellow big wheel a yellow camero. During the summer Marcie often came down on Sundays. We would park our yellow cameros side by side out in Granny's yard and haul out the water hoses, scrub brushes and buckets of cold soapy water. Then we would commence to wash our "babies." i took my big wheel washing as seriously as she took her car washing. Which was not that seriously.By the time we were done we'd both be covered in soap and water and splashes of mud. i would giggle enough to make up for days of no laughter, and she'd pick me up and spin me around in the air. No Sunday was complete without a change into PJ's for us both and then we'd drive to Hardees for hamburgers with lettuce and mayo. Since i often didn't get fed without "earning it" this abundance of food was an absolute delight.She told me she loved me, every time she saw me. And, many Sundays we would cruise around in her freshly washed car and i would eat as she waved at friends and sang along to the radio. In my eyes Marcie was the essence of all that was cool. Thinking back on "Mama Marcie" as i called her, always makes me feel special and loved. Like the coolest little kid in all the world. Just like she always told me i was.
Note: This is long as hell, but i didn't want to split it into two posts. Shit happens.
So, it was two weeks before all the bruising from that night's conclusion was gone. But, that Friday night, found me back at Jackson's getting dressed in yet more new clothes. These weren't like the things he normally bought me. The skirt was a little white circle skirt, and the shirt was a soft pink. They were just as skimpy, but in soft sweet colors. Jackson usually bought me clothes in black or red. i was surprised, but didn't ask questions. That wasn't healthy.i got ready, and again those two men showed and drove us to that city an hour away. We went to a rough looking bar. i had never been in a real bar. There we met a man who was huge. At least 6'2" and a mass of rippling muscles. He had a tattoo on his neck and he was missing an incisor tooth. i was instantly intimidated by him and hid behind Jackson as best i could. One of the two men introduced this man to Jackson as John."I hear you have a major problem. How much?"Jackson hung his head and said in a trembling voice, "Ten."The huge man whistled. He motioned at me."So whatcha got there?"Jackson grabbed me by the arm and forced me in front of him. The man looked at me in surprise. His eyes traveled over my breasts and downward, before a fleeting look at my face. He looked at one of the men who had brought us there in disgust."I thought you said she was 12? What the fuck? Look at those tits! And, that ass. She's gotta be 15 at least. i take her to Edward's and he'll have a seizure. Try Brandon."The John was addressing laughed. "Look in her mouth. Braces, man. And, look at that face, she's got a baby face. Fresh too, cried the whole time we got our finder's fee."John looked at me with fresh interest. "Smile," he commanded.my heart was in my chest but i bared my teeth at him. And, they were covered in braces.He looked back to the two men, "She knick you with those things?"They assured him that i didn't, that in fact, i gave great head. i blushed furiously and tears welled up in my eyes.This seemed to please him, because at last he smiled."Wow, she is fresh." He thought a minute. "Okay, I'll show her to him. But, I can't promise you anything. I'll call you at Mark's in an hour."He left Jackson with those men and took me out to his car. We got in. He offered me a bowl, and i shook my head."Oh, come on darlin', it'll take the edge off."So, i smoked it. It wasn't the first time, but i didn't smoke weed very often and i got rather stoned. i would also later learn that John's smoke was almost always laced. i let my head fall back on the seat and closed my eyes. The volume on my screaming emotions seemed turned way down."Quiet aren't ya? That's just as well. Don't say nothing unless he asks you something. But, you smile at him when I introduce you. I want him to see those braces before he starts breathing fire."So, we arrived and i took very little notice of anything. i followed him in the backdoor.i don't know what i was expecting Edward to be. But, i was very surprised. The man sitting in the very nice kitchen was extremely clean cut. His hair was trimmed nicely and he had on a polo shirt and khakis. He looked like a middle aged professional. "Edward, this is the girl Marty called about."He jerked me forward and i tried to smile. Edward motioned me forward. Feeling like i was walking to my doom i stepped in front of him. He slid back from the kitchen table and looked me up and down. He drew me to him and ran his hands over my tits, looking into my face intently. i blushed furiously and looked away. He drew my skirt up a bit and ran his hand over my panties."Take off your shirt." His voice was authority embodied. i pulled it over my head, but my face flamed even hotter. While inspecting my inner arm he asked John if i had worked before. John shook his head and repeated the story about my tears during the finder's fee. The inspection went on forever. He looked at my neck, my toes, and behind my ears. He felt all over me, noting each scar aloud, but not asking for an explanation. Finally i stood in the middle of his brightly lit kitchen, completely nude, crying softly. He eyed me a while longer, then told John to go get Jackson.By then my buzz had dried up and blown away. i stood there, listening to my own breathing, watching him watch me. John was gone about 20 minutes. During that time i neither moved, made eye contact, nor spoke. Looking back i think he wanted to see how much trouble i was going to be. Would i whine? Try to cover up? i did none of that. Merely stood there with my head down. Once in a while a tear would go sliding down my cheek but that was all.When Jackson and John returned Edward took Jackson out of the kitchen and into another room to talk. John pulled out another chair and sat down."Come here, kid."i walked over to him, trembling. i had no earthly idea what to expect. But, he only pulled me onto his lap. He pulled a cellophane full of pills out of his shirt pocket and shook a pink one out. He handed it to me and offered his beer my way."I know its tough. You'll be alright. Take that. It'll help."Being scared to death, this kind tone seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world. i swallowed the pill and snuggled into his lap, laying my head against his chest and crying softly. He stroked my hair a minute then just held me there on his leg."Come on, kid, man up. You're gonna get eaten alive if you don't."His helpful little friend started to kick in and my tears dried up. He asked me about movies and music i liked and before i knew it we were in conversation. i forgot my nudity, my situation, my fear. i floated on the high from his little cellophane pack and talked about the movie Heathers.Finally, Jackson reappeared. He didn't look happy about finding me naked on Johns lap and i jumped up and backed away, terrified of the beating i knew was coming. But, it didn't come. Instead John laughed heartily and pulled me back on his lap."That shit don't fly here, sweetie. Me or Benny do most of the behavior correcting around here, and Edward there lays down the rules. Your little boy should have thought about wanting to keep his girl to himself before he played with the big boys."Jackson glared a minute more, then dropped his head. i was stunned."Okay, John, that'ss enough," Edward chuckled. "Let him tell her goodbye."Suddenly all of my fear rushed back. Goodbye? What were they talking about. How would i get home?Jackson approached me. He pulled me off John's lap and looked down into my terrified eyes. For the first time in a long time, there was a softness there. He pulled me into a tight embrace."Look, I'm sorry. I had to do it. They are going to kill me. I don't have any choice. You don't have to live here. You can go home on Monday, I'll come get you in time for school. No one has to know. Once the debt is gone you may even be able to quit. Try to be good, and don't make them hurt you too much."And with that he was gone.
By the spring of my 12th year, i was barely hanging on. i had realized that Jackson was going to make my life miserable for all time, and tried to break up with him twice. Learning how a modified extension cord could become an electric torture device and having all my fingers broken taught me that was not a viable option. my life long excuse of clumsiness was accepted without question.He rarely punched me in the face, and found other ways to break my will without living marks that could be seen with clothes on. my parents never saw me. i started drinking heavily. By the time i started school again in the fall, i had to have a drink in the morning to go to school. i had been suspended several times for my clothes and once for being drunk. i was a problem child. And, this is when i learned of Jackson's vice. Jackson had a serious problem with gambling. i managed to get several little odd jobs gardening and such but still couldn't cover Jackson's debts. And, finally, he got the hell beat out of him. Then he began to look at me with an odd speculative light.One Saturday, he laid out new clothes on his bed for me. He sent me to get in the shower and watched while i applied my make up and arranged my long hair. i probably should have seen it coming but i didn't.Two rough looking men showed up that evening to pick us up. i followed Jackson, numbly, with my head down. We drove to a city an hour away. The ride was extremely tense, and no one spoke. Finally, we arrived at a seedy looking motel. i was still clueless.Once we got into the motel Jackson told me i was going to blow the two men. And, i found the will somewhere in myself to tell him no. He slapped me in the face repeatedly, threatening me. The men looked on seeming completely unfazed by the scene. Eventually, i gave in, just as i always did.Jackson grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and wiped the blood from my busted nose and mouth on it. He drug me back towards the bed, and pulled my top over my head. One of the men moved finally, and pulled my skirt off. Not another word was spoken as i kneeled down at the foot of the bed and took them in my mouth one by one. Tears poured down my cheeks and my mascara ran, but i didn't say a word. In some part of my heart, i always knew this was what i was made to do.After i had swallowed their cum, they became a little more animated. They never spoke to me, but took a couple poloroids of me. They told Jackson i wasn't bad at all. They might know someone who could help him. One of them eventually handed me a couple of pills and i took them, numbly. i didn't know what they were, didn't care. After that i don't remember much of what happened. Just flashes.The inspection and pictures of my body.The ride home.The accusations of whore.Jackson's fists.
So, after that things weren't so bad for a while. Jackson was no longer really nice, but he wasn't often blatantly cruel either. i hung on to my hope that i could make him love me again. i redoubled my efforts to do everything exactly the way he wanted me to.Before i knew it, i was completely cut off from anyone but Jackson. i had no real friends. Every boy in school was scared to talk to me without Jackson's approval, because he would completely snap and get violent with them, me, and whoever else happened to be in the vicinity. Once he forced a fellow athlete to suck his cock because he caught the two of us comparing homework notes when he came out of the locker room after practice.By late October, i was only Jackson's property. That was how every kid in school viewed me. It was how he viewed me. It was how i viewed me. So then began the beatings. The first time he hit me, i had found out he had slept with another girl. He was having football practice and i was practicing twirling my rifle with the band. He saw the girl come over to me and must have seen me start to cry. After our respective practices i asked him if it was true. He replied by punching me twice in the face. And, i learned another lesson, no questions. i saw how similar this rule was to my Granddaddy's rules, and i attempted to revert to that behavior. Trying to please him. It didn't. i was lifeless. i was a whore, i liked doing those dirty things. No matter what i did, nothing was right. Everything i did was instantly wrong, and he had to instruct me on my behavior. Usually with fist. But, sometimes, he was more creative.Another time i was stupid enough to get caught speaking with another boy without Jackson's permission, he drug me into the locker room. It was still half full of boys changing out of their football uniforms and he made me blow him while they all looked on. The next time he picked a handful of other boys for me to blow as well. Then joked about it all over school. Including to their girlfriends. Girls i had been friends with since i was five years old would pass me in the hall and hiss "whore." Rumors and insults flew. i learned to keep my head down. i didn't want to see the hostility of the girls, or the sly knowing looks of the boys. i was almost totally alone. Even the few friends who stuck by me were completely unsympathetic to my plight. They viewed it as i was getting about what i wanted and deserved, but they would put up with me out of charity or something. At least that's how i thought of it.
Jackson and i spent a wonderful summer together. He took me dancing, bought me flowers, and took me to the movies. It was like magic. i felt, for the first time, like one of those girls on the movies. The ones who laugh and worry about their hair or dates. Jackson put me on a pedestal so high, i could barely see the ground. He worshipped me and thought i was perfect. Everything was dreamy... until he wanted to have sex.By late summer our make out sessions went farther and farther. i never stopped him. What right did i have to stop him? And, besides, for the first time, someone was touching me that i WANTED to touch me. i enjoyed his advances. Things felt good that i didn't know could feel good. Finally, he asked me why i was never scared. Did i really want to give my virginity to him?And, i thought he loved me. i think he even thought he did. Maybe he even did. So i told him. i couldn't give him my virginity. i had never been a virgin. And, that was the end of my small sweet dream. The crash from that enormous pedestal hurt. He didn't hit me that day, not with his fist, but he repeated the words i had heard all my life. And, with them, left bruises on my soul.He pressed me face down over the hood of his old piece of shit car, and held me there with his hand in the palm of my back. He jerked my dress up and ripped my panties off and and forced himself into me. He cried while he did it, and whispered that i had tricked him, over and over again. It was hard to hear him through my own sobs, but his voice broke on the words "dirty whore" and most damning, "worthless cunt."When he was through with me, he flung me off of his car as though i would contaminate it. He got in and drove away, leaving me there in the dirt, to find my own way home.i called Vanessa but she wasn't home. JH came to get me instead. He was wildly amused. Although he wouldn't touch my "dirty pussy" he had me give him a blow job before he took me home. That night i knew in my heart that i had done a terrible thing to Jackson. i should never have let him thought i was a real girl. A normal girl. And, i would make it up to him. Somehow.
Today, i am feeling brave. So we are going to time travel again, and come back to this other stuff later. We have lots to come back to, but, for now... let's go forward. Through several fairly calm years where the worst thing i had to fear was a too big cock being stuffed into a too small hole. Through my 11th birthday and into the spring of that year.It was the yearbook dance. i was finishing up my 6th grade year. Our books were handed out and between the dances we would go out in the hall and sign one another's books. At, that point i was still a popular kid. Well liked by most everyone. And, this is where i met Jackson.Jackson was actually in highschool, not the middle school, but had been signed up to come to the dance. Somewhere along the way, he had failed two grades and was 17. He was tall and had long beautiful black hair. His Indian heritage was clear in his bronzed skin. His eyes were a shocking, but pleasing surprise. A soft light blue framed by eyelashes so dark he seemed to be wearing mascara. In short he was very good looking in some kind of hardened way.When he approached me, i was nervously smitten. He signed my yearbook "To the prettiest girl at the dance. I'd like to get to know you better, call me sometime." And he left his phone number. i was wildly flattered.He asked me to dance, and we spent several slow songs dancing. When fast songs came on, unlike the other boys there, Jackson stayed on the floor and danced with me.Having learned to dance from Vanessa and JH, my movements were wildly inappropriate for a middle school dance, but Jackson seemed to enjoy my grinding away on the floor. Eventually one of the teachers put a stop to it, and i went outside with Jackson, into the warm spring air.We talked about silly things. And, i hung on every word he said. It gave every appearance of the beginning of a sweet young romance. A dream. Little did i know, i was embarking on a nightmare.
So... this place is depressing. i know it. So... on Sundays i'm going to blog a happy memory from my childhood. Let us have some happiness.When i was about six years old i went through a major Strawberry Shortcake thing. You know the little doll with a cake for a hat. i had her stickers on all my books. i made up Strawberry Shortcake stories and told them to my granny and i told them to Iris when she stopped by with her parents to see me.One day, out of the blue, my mother arrived with a fancy wrapped package. It wasn't my birthday or anything. Just a Thursday. i was over the moon ecstatic. my mother had come to see me, that was the greatest thing. i couldn't be hurt, and instead she sat in the recliner and took me in her lap. i could smell her wonderful sent and snuggle my face against her. i was in heaven.And, on top of that, here was a big box wrapped in fancy paper with shiny bows. For me. She had thought of me, and brought me this gift. For no reason. Could it have been for love? i was so beside myself with happiness and gratitude i hugged myself and cried. i didn't want to open the gift. i just want to look at its beauty and hold onto my Mama.Finally i carefully pulled the tape away. Carefully, so carefully, i didn't want to ruin the paper, i wanted to hang it up in my room so i could look at it all the time. This sign of my mother's love. Beneath the paper was a satiny white box. i ran my hands over the cool surface with the delight."Go on, honey," she urged "Open it, its yours."So i opened the box. And, inside was a strawberry shortcake nightgown, robe and slippers. They were beautiful. Glorious. Surely the best present anyone had ever received. Because i knew... every night when i went to bed... in a way, my Mama would go with me. i was so thrilled i covered her face in kisses."Thank you so much Mama!! i love them! What can i do to show you how much i love them?"She laughed and kissed my cheek. i winced slightly and she noticed the horrible bruise there. Holding me into the light, she noticed quite a few bruises and cuts. "My goodness, what happened to you?""i fall in the creek. i'm clumsy.""Well, be careful, sweetie. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you."i promised to be more careful and leaned against her taking in her smell. Her softness. Her love. i basked. She even took me in her car and bought me a hamburger before returning me to my grandparent's house.After that, nothing could spoil my day. It was wonderful. And, i fell asleep that night, wondering for the first time... if someone might really love me.
So, i wanted to stick to one subject a week, a model i found over at lili's place, which seems to work well for her. i don't have the self discipline to do it. Fuck it. If i go any farther with the reindeer games this week, i'll have to enter the basement, and that's something i'm just not ready to do. So... nows the time to time travel.Lets move forward several years. All the way past my eighth birthday. All the way to the spring of that year. Around this time actually.One night, i was visiting my parents. It was a weekend. And, i got a phone call. It was my sister. On this blog i'm gonna call her Vanessa. Anyway, Vanessa was beside herself. She had had a dream about me. She dreamed i was dead but i still walked around. But, wherever i went, there was a trail of blood. This dream scared her badly. Because although she wasn't alone with Granddaddy enough to play reindeer games, he had fucked her. She asked me if he had fucked me.At first i tried to lie. i was a bad cunt, but, not necessarily a stupid one. i didn't want to piss him off. But, she told me of her fear for her daughter. A sweet little blonde i idolized. The thought of Iris in that basement made me want to puke. So, i told Vanessa i would call her back. Then i thought furiously.i considered suicide. But, i had already tried at least 10 times and i had not succeced. i knew i was a total failure and i couldn't even get that right. That option was out.Then i considered the idea of telling the truth. i knew that what would happen then would be worse than death. It seemed i couldn't bring myself to do that either.And, then i thought of Iris. She looked like an angel. And, even though i was painfully jealous of the love and affection my parents heaped on her... i couldn't help but love her madly. She was like a beautiful flower in danger of being crushed. i berated myself for a coward. How could i risk Iris to save my own skin. If i didn't do something to protect her, then i would more than deserve everything that happened to me for all eternity.i made a compromise with myself and called Vanessa back. She didn't answer. Her husband, JH did. Wanting to avoid a scene with Vanessa who was prone to dramatics... i told him to tell her, that no, Granddaddy hadn't fucked me. But, he had touched me, and i too was concerned for Iris.Being 8, i was not as savvy as one might have wished, and JH picked up on my causal use of terms like fucked, cunt, and cock. The next day, before Vanessa had even called social services, he came by to take me for a drive, and fucked me in the back seat of his car.After some extremely unpleasant days i did escape the prison of my grandparents house. my mother was overwhelmed by guilt and horror when she heard i had been touched. When she later took me to the doctor and found out i had been much more than touched, she was nearly overcome. For quite a few years, she couldn't really stand to look at me.i became the fucktoy of JH. He never was sadistic. He didn't beat me, or torture me. He just fucked me in every way a man can fuck a woman. i was a starved, skinny kid, and even when i resisted, it didn't do me any good. And, besides... i knew what i was. i wasn't a normal little girl. i was a cunt. Here was a man demanding use of my body. What right did i have to refuse him? i began to perfect my blowjob.
i suppose this is still a reindeer game. But, this is the flashback i had last night.
i am laying in the pink bathtub. my arms are tied behind me and i'm laying on them. They are numb and don't even hurt anymore. i know i've been laying there a long time. If i tip my head as far back as it will go, i can get a glimpse of the sink. He isn't there yet. There is no bag. There is no hose. Strangely this isn't comforting... i know it doesn't mean anything. i pray half heartedly. i stopped believing in these prayers a long time ago. But, there is nothing else to do. When the door opens and he comes in with the water hose, i can only feel a numb kind of hopeless dread. i stop praying to be saved. Silently i begin to pray to die somehow. Just let it be done with this time. And, i think i will not fight this time. Let it end. i hear him behind me screwing the waterhose onto the pipe under the sink. And, then he is standing over me with the hose. "I told you, you weren't getting any water yesterday. Why did you ask your Granny for water?" There is no answer. The truth, that it was hotter than hell and i was so thirsty i thought i would die... that is not going to help my case. The answer to that, is if he wants me to die, i will. i know that. i had known better. i apologize. i know it won't help, but i don't know what else to say. "Well, you want water, let me give you some, cunt." He is scarily calm. No rage. His expression is that of a man doing some ordinary chore. Like cutting the grass. He cut the water on, and the hose started to drip. i knew when he depressed the trigger, it would come out in a torrent. And, then he is standing over me, the hose blasting water into my face. The pressure stings my face and i gag and choke as it finds its way into my nose and mouth. my resolve not to struggle melts, and i thrash, seeking air and finding only water. i gag, choke, thrash. The world goes grey. There is nothing but water. i am coughing up water. And, i feel myself starting to loose the battle. As, i begin to resign myself to the end... he stops. There is no real relief. i gag. i sputter and puke. my nose is clogged and my thoat on fire. The skin of my face and neck and upper body is on fire. He lets me gasp a few minutes then, asks "Still thirsty?" And, we begin again. Over and over. It seems hours pass as i struggle and choke and puke and scream and cry. Hours, days, years, an eternity. Will i never die? Eventually i no longer look forward to the hose stopping. i curse its stopping. Finish it. And, finally, i am able to stop fighting. i lay immobile gazing up at him through the haze of water, with dull acceptance as he plays at drowning me. At that point he quickly tires of his game. He cuts the water off. His cock is rock hard. He pulls it out and strokes it and cums into my face. When he walks out the bathroom door i lay in the tub, covered in puke and snot and cum. Struggling to breathe. And, more than i hate him... i hate me... why couldn't i just die?
Another of his games took place in my room. It wasn't like a little girl's room. It was still decorated as though my Aunt R still lived in it. Pictures of her old friends from college, her baseball stuff, books and papers. The walls were purple and the bed was way too big for me. It was a double bed and i barely made a lump when i laid in it. For this game, i would be tied spread eagle on the bed. He had to use old sheets since my arms and legs didn't reach anywhere near the edges of the bed. Once i was immobile, he would poke me with the tip of his pocket knife while laughing and whispering "Tickle, tickle." He usually began with my chest and belly, and moved into scarier areas. The pokes weren't life threatening. Just enough to draw blood. But, i was always scared that this time... this time he would be tired of his cunt, and do away with it. Usually before he had even made it to my genitals or my throat, i would begin to beg to "be a good girl." Which meant suck his cock. Once my pussy was bleeding, i'd beg him to fuck me. Anything, anything to keep him from cutting my throat. As he would force his cock into his chosen orifice, he would curse me for a whore. Telling me that good girls didn't beg for cock. That he would have to hurt me. And, he always did.
My Granddaddy like to play with me. He called it reindeer games. As in, "Come on, cunt, I have a new reindeer game." The first such game i remember him playing was in the creek that ran by the house. When it rained heavily the water would get up pretty high in the creek. There was a beautiful old weeping willow that stood by the bank. We always played this game at night. First i had to strip off my clothes. If i didn't do this willingly, he would bite me until i did. When i finally gave in and complied, he would pitch me off the side of the bank, into the rushing water about 10 feet below. While i struggled to get out of the water he would break off willow switches. The longer it took me to get out of the water and cling to the side of the steep hill that ran back up to the bank, the more switches he would collect. Then he would lean over the side of the bank and whip my hands and back and ass as i struggled to pull myself up the hill. Inevitably i would loose my grip several times and plunge back into the rushing water. It was terrifying. The water would be in my nose and mouth. i was convinced i would drown. And, as soon as i pulled myself free the lashes would start. My hands would bleed. My back would be a fiery criss-cross of agony. When i was lucky at least one of the switches would become to frayed for use before i could get back up the bank. Usually, i was not. As soon as i would haul myself over the edge, i would drop exhausted by the effort and my fear. Then he would begin to berate me for my idiocy and clumsiness. "You stupid little cunt! How could you fall in the fucking creek? Look at you! You are filthy. I can't let you in the house like that! Now I'm going to have to teach you not to be so goddamn clumsy!" And then he would beat me with the rest of the willow switches. Each one lasted a fairly long time. By the time he was done i would be a mass of bloody welts from chest to crotch and shoulders to buttocks. Then he would give me another lecture. "Now look what you made me do! You are a mess. What a fucking worthless little cunt! Aren't you?" And, i would have to tell him i was a worthless cunt. And, i knew he was right. If i weren't, i'd be at home with my real parents. Once he had the admission from me, he would laugh, and say what a fun game it was. When he went back into the house... which i wasn't allowed to enter all muddy and bloody, i would crawl under the porch and try to sleep.
So, i had wanted to try to tell this tale, straight through, from early childhood to late teens. But, that just isn't gonna work. For one thing, it will take me forever to get through all this stuff with my grandfather. For another, a lot of that stuff is the hardest to deal with. So i'm gonna jump around. A lot. And, just write what is on my mind at the moment. Maybe someday, far far in the future, when i have all of the mess on here... i'll go back and try to put them in chronological order. For now... bear with me. We are gonna time travel.
Like every little girl on the planet, i was fascinated with baby animals. My Granny must have had about a zillion strays that came to the back door regularly because she had a soft spot for them. She always made Granddaddy feed them. So it was no great surprise when one of the oodles of cats had kittens in their out building.That building was a scary place. It was old as Methuselah and absolutely packed with shit that had absolutely no purpose, old lawn mowers with no motors, furniture so damaged it was beyond use, and most notably an old orange bench set from a bus. There was no electricity in it, but some light seeped into its depths because the wood was so old and warped it was full of cracks. i would have braved the out building on my own to see the kittens but the old sliding door was rusty and i couldn't push it open no matter how hard i tried. After several days of trying, i decided to ask my Granny to take me to see them. Granddaddy had offered several times, but i knew that any kindness he gave me would have a terrible price tag, and so i pretended indifference.By the time i was born, Granny had long since moved out of the bedroom she had once shared with my Granddaddy. She had a hospital bed in what had once been the dining room. It was surrounded by pill bottles and her walker and her breathing machine and other signs of decaying health. i loved my Granny's room, it was the one safe place in the house. i loved the smell of her ointments and the lavender lotion she always wore. She would sit on the side of her bed and eat ice while watching television, and this is where i found her that day. When i asked her, she sighed deeply. She told me she'd love to take me out, but that the sunlight burned her and made her itch and that her walker was too hard to handle in the grass. And, then she did the thing i least wanted her to do. She yelled for my grandfather."Take this baby to seem them kittens!""No, that's okay," i whispered. "i don't really like cats that much."But, there was no getting out of it then. And, so, my grandfather took me by the hand and led me out the door. Looking up at him, the triumphant smile on his face let me know just how much of a mistake i had made. i shouldn't have asked for anything.When we were out of earshot, he whispered, "What is my little cunt going to give me?" Thinging hard, i replied, "Sugar." Sometimes he would settle for that, if i did it willingly. It was years before i learned that most kids gave sugar on cheeks, not the penis."You little whore," he muttered. So he sat on that old orange bench set, and i gave him his blowjob. For the price of holding three mutt kittens. One of which he killed later that day, while i watched in horror.
The first thing i can remember happening was the loss of my name. Granddaddy never did call me by the name my parents gave me. When he was fairly happy with me he called me Livy. His mother's name was Olivia. i don't know what possessed him to give me a nickname that made him think of her. But, on good days i was Livy.On bad days, i had no name. He would refer to me only as cunt. Apparently this was a standard operating procedure for him, because neither of my sisters can even bear to hear that word now. i think, for him, it made me somehow less than human.Soon, i came to see that cunt was the lowest, vilest of creatures. And that was me.
My grandfather had a fear and loathing of women. Grown women. His mother must have been some sort of demon straight from hell. To make a long story short, he was horribly abused as a child and grew up with a fear of grown women and a disgust and loathing for all things female. He married a very young woman, my grandmother was 14, and produced five children. Four girls, and one boy. That boy was my father. In his turn, my father had three girls. It is vehemently denied by most of the family, but my sisters and i believe that my grandfather at least molested every female member of the family. At worst, he may have treated some of them the way he did me.The reason things went so horribly for me is that i was mostly alone with him. When i was born (a story in itself, which i will tell later) my mother had a nervous collapse. i was packed off to live with my paternal grandparents. My grandmother was in poor health, and thus much of my care fell to my grandfather. No one came to check what happened to the tiny girl left in the hands of a man twisted with hatred. And, so... quite a lot did.
This is the beginning of my exploration of my history. i know it will be hard to put everything here... but i have to get it out of my head. i haven't decided yet if i'm going to try to tell this story chronologically or if i am going to skip around. i just know i have to tell it. i am tired of it eating at me. All names will be changed to protect the innocent. So will places. But, that is the extent of the fiction here. It is time to quit running. Time to face down my demons.
