Mira escaped. She had a client who got too rough and she had to go to the ER. She was supposed to sneak out and call John as i was instructed to do with my ribs. Well... she snuck out, but didn't call. She ran.
When it became clear that she wasn't coming back, Edward had to report that she was gone. The house was inspected. The tension was so thick in the air it could be cut with a knife.
Those of us who had no legitimate business there were herded to one of Edward's business partners. We were locked in a small back room and told to be silent. They'd come for us... eventually.
We huddled closer together than we actually needed to and took comfort in the breath and flesh of one another. Eventually the twins began to cry softly and April cuddled them. Kayla went away somewhere in her mind, sure (as the rest of us were) that she would be at fault somehow. John would need to siphon of his tension. Pearl seemed unfazed and began to play with my hair. i let her and concentrated on the pattern of bruises across my knees.
And, so the hours passed. Slowly, silently, frightened little girls looked from one to the other, our eyes asking the question when they met, and so we didn't make eye contact much.
Eventually Pearl and the twins slept. The three of us left took Kayla's hidden stash of Daddy's Little Helpers. She hadn't wanted to share with the other three for fear they would tell on her if all went right. And, if it all went wrong, they were the ones most likely to get compassion in their deaths anyway.
Comfortably we huddled close and whispered. April wanted to one day dance. Even stripping would be okay. She'd always wanted to be a dancer. That was her most closely guarded secret. Kayla wanted a family. A husband and a child and maybe a dog. PTA and homemade cookies. She blushed so brightly when she divulged her dream i felt her flesh burn against my leg. i tried to think what i wanted. my dream. They thought i was holding out on them, but i honestly just couldn't think of anything.
Evening turned to night, night turned to morning, morning turned to afternoon. Finally a boy brought some water and pieces of fruit. i gave my apple to Pearl, sure i wasn't supposed to eat yet. We were taken one at a time to the bathroom. Then the door was locked again.
Finally, that night, the door opened and it was Benny and John. We watched them from our huddle. Even Pearl was frightened. We didn't know if they had come to take us home, or to tie up loose ends and dispose of us.
John's voice gave away nothing.
"You'll come by twos. I need silence until we are out of this house. I'll explain things in the car. Just keep your mouths shut. I want Wendy and Mindy first, April and Kayla second and Raven and Pearl last. Be silent, be good girls, and it will be easier."
i didn't find this particularly comforting. But, didn't have a lot of choice and so i sat waiting.
And, turned out... they only took us home.
i landed in the car with Benny, Kayla, and April. He pulled over halfway home, gave everyone acid and trembled a while.
"I told John that I was freaking out and needed to blow off steam. You three are my entertainment for the evening. Can't save everyone. He's spending the night with Lindy and Pearl. Seemed the best."
The house inspection was done by someone in Edward's pocket, it was relatively painless... and no one had to die that night.
my mind is filled with shards of broken glass that somehow pierce my heart and give me headache.
That's about as close as i can come to telling you what i feel like today. my friends have rallied round and help me pick my self up off the ground. You guys know who you are... thank you.
i can't pick a direction this week. i've stopped trying. Here is something i thought about today. Disconnected from anything. A fleeting glance. Probably be a whole week of this.
When i took my second grade class pictures, the school photographer said i looked like Farrah Fawcett with no teeth. He decided to do three extra shots of me for fillers he said. Whatever that meant. For the last one i couldn't quite find the angle he wanted for my head. So he walked forward to adjust my head himself. But when he threw my hair back away from my neck he discovered the ropeburn there. His hands froze. i tensed.
And i looked up at him and for a moment saw his naked horror. His eyes locked on mine, and so we were connected somehow by his knowing.
Then my teacher asked if there was anything wrong from the doorway.
His eyes held mine a minute more. i pled with my eyes. i'm not sure for what. And then i saw the shade come down inside him. The heavy wall he erected to break the connection.
He said, no, he had enough, send the next child please.
*sigh* Its Monday. In fact, its Monday night, and another day is fast sneaking past without me blogging. Dammit, how does that happen so quick? Most days i look at this blog every single day. Even when i don't post, i read back over things and look at comments and all that. Not since Thursday. i closed the blog after i wrote the last entry and i haven't looked in it since. Like a little kid holding her hands over her eyes and thinking that will make her invisible. *sigh*
i don't know where to go. Once again i am lost. Suddenly nothing makes sense anymore and everything is interconnected. i close my eyes at night and the word whore flashes on and off in bright neon. Something like: "Did i pay the satellite bill? WHORE whore J needs new tennis shoes, his have a hole in them. WHORE whore Where am i going to get the money for Brad's dental surgery? WHORE whore" And, around and around into infinity. Its so stupid. Its not like its some kind of newsflash to me. i knew i was a whore before last week. Isn't what i've been telling you guys about since May? So what's the problem? i have no idea.
No fucking clue. So that's where i am at the moment. Lost.
So, i can't put this off any longer. Its eating me alive. So here it is. The memory of what J learned. i don't know if i'll be here tomorrow sorting this out. i may take the day off. i don't know.
i am about 4 or 5 years old. i am in my bed and Daddy is sitting on the side of it. He is telling me a story. He often tells me stories. This time its The Three Little Pigs. i listen with rapt attention and help him huff and puff in the appropriate places. my heart feels so filled with love and contentment that i will burst. i want to stay here with him forever. i never want to go back to my Granddaddy. i sit up and put my tiny hand on his crotch. "Daddy, i'm good at being a good girl. If you want to love me, you'll like it. You could let me stay here and i'd be so good. Your cock will be happy forever." He stared at me for a moment. Completely frozen. And, my heart soared, i knew he was going to accept. And, yes that stuff hurt, but i knew Daddy wouldn't lock me in the basement, or drown me, or play reindeer games. It seemed like a wonderful trade. i gave his crotch an encouraging stroke and suddenly he came to life again. He threw my hand off of him and jumped off the bed. He looked down at me in complete horror. "No. Don't ever touch me there again. I'll never love you. Never. That's a promise. And, you'll never be a good girl for me. Never. No." Finally he nearly sobbed and he burst from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. i sat in stunned silence. i couldn't understand why my proposition had failed. Was Granddaddy right? Daddy hated me?
This happened before the Tuesday post. Which i think better explains his reaction then. What bugs me is that Daddy so obviously understood the terminology i was using and what it meant. How? And, of course the fact that Granddaddy had already turned me into a little whore who would trade sex for what she wanted at that age bugs me too. But, there it is. The new thing that's been driving me nuts. Its just so fucked i can't even begin to wrap my mind around it and all of its implications.
So, why didn't i just go to my mother. She obviously would have been the person to tell. my Independance Day post taught us that much. But, at the time i didn't know that. i didn't know my mother at all.
my mother was 32 years old when she realized she must have cancer. She decided quite willfully not to do anything about it, because she wanted to die. Her marriage was falling apart. She had a mental illness she didn't understand and always felt as though she were being chased. She couldn't take it anymore and decided that this was a blessing.
Except it wasn't cancer. It was a baby. She had taken cortizone shots for her back, various physch meds, and birth control pills through out the pregnancy. The doctors recommended that she abort the baby because it was likely to be severly disformed. The decision was all but made to do that, when an ultrasound was ordered to see how far along the baby was, so that it could be determined what type of medical procedure was needed. And, low and behold the baby was not disformed. Not only that, it was a boy! Here was the little boy prayed for so long, sent to save her marriage and her life.
But, then, i was born. And, sadly, i do not have a dick. The cord was between my legs and ultrasounds in 1976 just werent that impressive. So... here i am.
Mama just couldn't cope. She was already extremely fragile, and this was just more than she could stand. She had a complete break with reality. To make a long story short i was sent to live with my grandparents because she couldn't bear to look at me.
Mama was lost in her own private hell for years after that. Actually, turned out the problem was largely hormonal because she didn't really begin to recover until her hysterectomy 13 years later. At that point we began a relationship that was very close by the time cancer finally did get her when i was 22.
In short i didn't go to her because she was for some odd reason afraid of me when i was a little girl. She loved me but couldn't really bear to deal with me. Her guilt for not seeing things with Granddaddy just made that worse. i never went to her about any problem in my entire life. But, she tried. And, i loved her flaws and all.
So, i thought we'd talk just a bit more about who my Daddy is and was before we go on. If i had to sum up my father with one word it would be hardworking. He wasn't around much when i was a kid, because he worked 50, 60, 70 hours his whole life. Then he puttered outside constantly. my parent's yard was always perfectly groomed, and he grew a large garden. In fall and winter he chopped firewood and ranked it constantly. When i was very young he drank too much. Way too much, just like all the other alcoholics in my family. But, he never beat on any of us, and he rarely had alcoholic tantrums. He was good to my sisters. Extremely good to them. He spent a decent amount of time with each of them and he took an active interest in their lives. When Vanessa got pregnant at 15 it nearly killed him and broke his heart, but he eventually got over it and absolutely dotes on Iris. Its important to remember that this man was raised by my sick fuck of a grandfather. He has a major handicap. He tries to be what his idea of a good man is. But, that is a totally self invented concept. He had no good figure from which to learn how to be a man. The man is tragically flawed. He is selfish, has a terrible temper, narrow minded and never knows when to just shut up. But, come on, we are all flawed. He's just a man. An imperfect one. my biggest problem with him is that he doesn't like or want me. And, never has.
So... i've always known that when i was around five, approaching 6, i tried to tell my father that Granddaddy was hurting me. And, it did not go well.
It was a Sunday evening and it was getting close to time for me to go back to my grandparents. The sun had sunk low in the sky, but it was not yet quite sunset. Mama was at Vanessa's helping her with Iris. And, i was alone with my Daddy. He was in the den watching tv and reading the paper. i peeked out the steps and saw his water glass empty. i sneaked out and got it, and filled it with ice and poured a bit of water over it. Sliding his glass back on his coaster i settled in the floor by his feet. Eventually he noticed me sitting there and peeked at me over his paper. "i got you some water, Daddy." He smiled at me. "Thank you, sweetie. Have you packed your stuff up to go back to Granny's?" i shook my head. He frowned at me. "Don't you think you'd better?" i took a deep breath, now or never. "Daddy, i don't want to go. Granddaddy is mean to me. He hurts me. He touches me in bad ways." He sighed. He looked almost afraid for a moment. Then his eyes hardened. He threw his paper in the floor. "We don't tell lies. Go in your bedroom, I'll be there in a minute to see about your punishment. Then you are going home."
He whipped me with his belt. And, my final hope died. my Daddy wouldn't save me.
So. i have started to hate this Sunday tradition. But, i'm determined to press on with it because i think at some point i'll enjoy looking back and seeing lots of good things from my life before J. But, be forewarned... if it doesn't start coming a bit easier i'm going to can the whole concept.
And, one more note before i start trying to write the Sunday post. Due to some detective work on J's part i recently found out something about myself and my father that has upset me rather a lot. This week is going to be about processing that, and its not going to be pretty. i may dissolve into cursing tantrums and i reserve the right to flake out totally and come completely unglued if he calls me before this week ends.
And, possibly after that. Possibly forever.
So anyway. Sunday Post...
Daddy took me fishing once. i wanted us to have a special day together, like he often had with my sisters or nieces or nephew. Just me and him. my mother took up my argument and he finally caved and took me fishing. And, it was wonderful. Out on the small boat the awkwardness that was always between us fell away and we laughed and worked at pulling the fish in. They were biting well and it was a perfect fall day spent laughing and feeling magically close to him and loved. A perfect day.
So... i've been sick the past few days, and i've been neglecting this blog. *sigh* Its easy to do, but i have to keep away from that. So condenced version of the last three days.
April's mother left her. April went to a friend's house for the weekend and came home and her mother had split. For good. April was 11. She wandered around and lived on the streets for a while. Benny found her about 6 months later being passed around alleyway. He took her home to Edward who took her in. April told me before Mr. Catlette got her that she was actually fairly happy at Edward's. But, we know how that story played out.
The twins were named Wendy and Mindy. When i first went to the house they were almost 10. They didn't work in the basement with the rest of us mostly. They had their own room but it was only just up the hall from me. i often heard them screaming and begging when they were being taken from their room to go to work. Tiny little blondes with huge green eyes. Their stupid junkie whore of a mother sold them to Edward when they were only 8. Benny resolutely refused to have anything whatsoever to do with the twins. John would sigh and bite at his lip, but in the end he always squared his shoulders and drug them out kicking and screaming. The fact that they still kicked and screamed said a lot about John's reluctance. The only one who had no reluctance whatsoever was Edward of course. He simply counted the money.
The only other girl i ever knew at Edward's in a similar situation as myself was Cathy. She was there for one week. Cathy was too old to be in Edward's house... she was 17. But Brandon was out of town and Cathy was so stunningly beautiful Edward knew he could charge Brandon even more for her than he had paid himself. She was fresh. Never worked before. He boyfriend got over his head with drugs, ripped off the wrong people, and like Jackson, cashed in his only valuable property. Cathy hung herself with John's belt before she ever had her first client. No one got any money off her.
So, my post for today is postponed. Most of you guys know how much i admire and like Lili. Lili happens to be a very talented writer, which i am not. But, i wrote this poem for her today. To thank her for what she does. There are so many girls like i was who have no voice. They have been silenced in death or other ways. But, Lili's blog tells her story so well that i feel the girls have been given their voice back. i will never be able to do what she does. i know the stories, but i lack her talent. She is alone. i once read that alone was the worst word in the english language and that hell was only a poor synonym. So here Lili. Your very own extremely bad poem. It is pale. Only know that i cannot express myself this way, but i tried out of respect and love for you. Perhaps my embarrassment at its inadequecy is a better gift, but they are both yours. i see you. i hear you. i appreciate you.
The Promise All alone she lights the candle and while it burns she screams the pain and rage of all the pretty babies.
Day after day night after night, the promise she made so long ago echos.
One voice left to speak for those long silenced forgotten and replaced.
To speak for those who silently scream right now and those who will sob tomorrow.
And so we stand a tight circle around the candle's glow.
We stand and listen as the woman screams on.
On and on and on.
The flame blazes brighter but no one sees what it costs the woman to scream.
The spectators jostle and shove the candle light blazes bright and hot and the woman stands naked exposed and alone.
And, yet she is never silenced. The promise fulfilled. The price paid.
Pearl and Kayla were runaways. i never knew what they were running from that could be worse, but i suppose it was, because neither of them ever tried to escape or go home. Even though John was so horrible to Kayla, she never even considered calling home and getting the fuck out of dodge. April told me once that it was easier when it wasn't someone who was supposed to love you. i don't know, i never saw an appreciable difference.
These kids were totally off the books. No one even knew they existed. i don't know how that happens, but it did. Edward didn't even have to make up any homeschooling excuse or anything else. They were damned. Children on their own and making their way the best way they could.
And here is a simple fact. Runaways have three choices. Get lucky and become a runner for someone, sell their body, or starve. Well, or go home. Which i suppose is sometimes just not an option. i always give panhandling kids money. Might buy them a single night. Its not enough, but its all i can do.
Edward was a foster father. Lindy, Mira, and Candy were his foster daughters. Lindy was a runaway from another state who landed in the system here when she was picked up for shoplifting. After her time was served in a detention center she was placed in foster care since she refused to give any information about her family. She ran away from her first two foster homes and was given to Edward as a last resort. He was thought of as a hero for taking in the girls no one else wanted. Mira's father took off on her family when she was a baby. Her mother was serving a stretch in prision when i knew her. She too was thought of as a bad kid and was placed with Edward. Candy's story broke my heart most of all. She was from an upper middle class family. A spoiled pampered princess by all appearances. But, the truth was her father was fucking her and her sister both, and her mother knew all about it. So one day, Candy's big sister has enough of it and shoots both of their parents. Mom and dad dead, the girls are sent to seperate foster homes. But, Candy has a serious case of PTSD and wakes up screaming every night in creation. Which bought her a ticket to Edward's. And, i imagine if she lives still, she has even more to scream about now.
So, i couldn't come up with anything happy for yesterday's Sunday post. i've lost all my happy thoughts... let's hope that i don't fall out of the sky.
As for today...
i'm missing my current life blog. i have so much shit going on right now. Its making it very hard for me to concentrate and get anything done with this blog. But, that's my MO. i always start projects and then don't finish them. So i'm going to press on, and hope for the best. i try to be representative on this blog. There is no way i can cover damn near 15 years of my life in detail. Its just not possible. But, i always end up feeling like i haven't represented myself well. Particularly since i get so many comments telling me how courageous i was. i wasn't. i was mostly confused, resigned, scared, and pissed off. Bravery didn't factor in. Bravery is what soldiers do when they sign up for the army and go off to fight a war. Its what doctors do when they look around at impossible destruction and go alone to try to fix it. Bravery is the fireman who runs into a burning building to save someone. What i did was survive. Climbing over those even weaker than myself, crawling under tyrants, and sneaking around evil. i don't know how i did it. Dumb luck, a knack for reading people, and the ability to be damn near invisible at times were my biggest assets. Okay enough explanation. i'll be back later in the day with a real post for today. After my son's home program folks leave. Time is my enemy these days.
This doesn't really tie in with anything. Well, nothing i'm probably going to share here. But, its been on my mind a lot lately so i give it here on a Saturday, when nothing needs to connect.
i was always George's favorite girl. Well... until early spring of my 14th year.
Every other month all the girls in the house were sent to George for blood tests, a physical exam, and to have any minor wounds treated. i saw George a little more often as that Mr. Catlette often caused me to have wounds that needed treatment. It was a cool day in April, and i was the last girl ferried to George's house. my services and the money in my panties were his payment for treating all the girls. As was usual, he was all business at first. He had me strip to bra and panties, removed his money, counted it, then had me sit down to draw blood. Then into the home office and onto the table for the exam. Then he rubbed an antibiotic ointment into the cigarette burns on my lower back and the bloody crusted welts on the backs of my thighs. He had me hold my hair out of the way while he went about the painful process of cleaning the nastily infected bite on my shoulder. He surveyed me for more damage, and touched the nasty bruises over my ribs. i kept my eyes locked on his knees and didn't move or make a sound. He finished up by dabbing a bit more antibiotic ointment on the ropeburn at my neck. "Alright, Raven, you can get down now." i slid off the table and to my knees, crawling towards him to give him his blowjob. George was an easy customer. Half and half was usually all he required and he was gentle. But, this time, he stepped away from me. i froze and waited for instructions. He stood staring down at me for a long time. When he stepped towards me, i cringed away before i could stop myself, bracing for a kick. But, instead he only sighed and reached down and helped me to my feet. His eyes searched mine for a moment before sweeping up then down. i recognized that i was being inspected and stood straight, letting my eyes drop and fasten once more on his knees. i knew what he was seeing. And, i knew it wasn't pretty. Finally he took my hand and led me towards his kitchen. i was confused. That was where i waited for John to pick me up. But, he hadn't fucked me yet. i knew John would flay me alive if i blew the deal with the doctor. So i stepped in front of him and when he was forced to stop or step on me, i leaned forward and kissed his throat in the way i knew he liked. He moaned and i ran my hand slowly over his chest to his cock. Which was completely flaccid. Not what i had expected. i stroked slowly through his pants, determined to complete this transaction, and continued to kiss his neck. i felt him begin to stiffen and finally he picked me up and carried me back through his house in the opposite direction. Later, after i had milked his orgasm from him, i got up and went into his bathroom to clean up. Once i was clean, i stood in front of his full length mirror looking at myself. my hair had lost its vibrancy. It hung in limp ringlettes, and its color was no longer a shiny rich brown, but the color of old dirt. There were dark hallows under my eyes that were so pronounced i almost looked like i had two black eyes. Even with my makeup. Each of my ribs stood out and hip bones stuck out so far it was disgusting. i looked disgusting, and i knew it. i must have stood there a long time, because George's hand was suddenly on my hip. "Raven, I only see one way out. Do you want to die?" i looked up at him in the mirror. But, it wasn't a threat. It was a question. The first question anyone had asked me about my future in a long damn time. i thought about it a long time, and the girl in the mirror nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I can make it so it won't hurt. You'll just go to sleep. And, never wake up. I must be getting old. Or you are worse than the others, or fucking something. But, I can't keep doing this." Then John cleared his throat. He was standing in the bathroom doorway. "Oh, but you will Doc. Raven isn't going anywhere. Are you sweetheart?" And his eyes were hard and cold in the mirror. i shook my head and went to him, and he popped a couple of Daddy's Little Helpers in my mouth. i dry swallowed them and found my clothes and got dressed. Trying to forget the momentary surge of hope i had felt.
George and i were never alone together again. Someone else gave him his service fee. George tried to talk to Edward about me, i was pulled out and inspected again. At 5'8" and 98 lbs i was a fright. Edward finally accepted defeat on my shape and decided to feed me a bit more regularly. George made the argument for selling me, that i didn't fit into the house well, but Edward wouldn't let me go. Probably because of Mr. Catlette. Five months later, i would leave forever.
Not all of my clients were horrible. i had some that were interesting, and a few i even enjoyed. The most memorable of the latter group, was Jamal.
Jamal was in medical school. He was 24 years old, hugely fat, and rather awkward. His uncle took a fancy to me at a party and contracted my services for his nephew. Both men were extremely nice to me, and my time in his uncle's apartment usually included a meal. The first time, Jamal never even fucked me. He said he just wanted to get to know me.
We talked books at great length. And, he gave me a copy of his favorite asking me to read it. i gave him gentle advice about his appearance and talked him into getting his huge goofy afro braided. Jamal has a brilliant sense of humor and a gentle but insistent nature that i'm sure has made his wife a very lucky woman.
His uncle was only four or five years older than Jamal and occasionally would send for me when Jamal wasn't at home. He used me forcefully and delighted in my pained reaction... but was so kind to me outside the bedroom... i actually enjoyed this a good deal. Actually, now that i think about it... Marty may have been the first person with whom i ever figured out pain could feel quite nice.
In short, i enjoyed these two very much. They purchased me for their enjoyment... but were good to me and made me enjoy it as well. Eventually Jamal got a girlfriend. And, i was very happy for him. Marty bought me occasionaly right up until my escape.
Jackson had a half brother with down syndrom. Everytime i think of this boy i burn hot with shame. Geoff was about 3 years older than Jackson, and thought Jackson had hung the moon. He had the mental capacity of approximately a 7 year old. He also had an extra finger. Jackson thought that the fact that Geoff could never have sex a horrible shame. And, so, he provided him with sex. me. i cannot tell you how horribly ashamed i am for basically molesting a young man to avoid a beating. i never had to actually take my clothes off, a hand job was all it took. But, i always felt the most horribly dirty afterwards. A party would have been a better option. The guilt was crushing. It still is. And, i often wonder... how badly did that screw Geoff up for the rest of his life? And, once i got away from Jackson... who did it for him?
So... i just wanted to apologize to all the people i worried by just pulling up stakes and running off. i panicked and used poor judgement. i'm very sorry. i certainly didn't mean to scare people. i'd also like to thank Lili for helping people find me, and for answering emails from folks i scared. And thanks to GP for saving my archives for me. You two are wonderful, and i appreciate you.
And, thank you to each and every person who worried about me. i am touched beyond words. You folks rock.
So, at the moment i don't want to work on Edward's place. At least for a week.
And, my grandfather is just too much to deal with at the moment.
So where does that leave us?
Well, i suppose we'll start with JH.
JH always made me feel so bad because it felt like a betrayal of Vanessa. i knew i should fight harder, throw a fit, something because he was Vanessa's husband, and she was so good to me. He played on this a lot. He would often ask me, braced over me as he fucked me, "What do you think Vanessa would think if she saw you now?" It never occurred to me that she would kill him for fucking her 10 year old sister. It was always that i had betrayed her. i should have stopped him somehow. Eventually, long after J made him stop, i would figure out that JH himself created most of that guilt. It kept me silent. i eventually did tell Vanessa about JH. When they divorced, he filed for custody of their daughters. i didn't want him to have them. So i told. He ended up backing down, and i never had to go to court and point the finger at him. But, i would have, for Iris and Jenny. When i told Vanessa, she went insane. This man had held her in bed while she cried when she was going through the process of stopping my grandfather. And, all along, he was fucking me. She couldn't handle this betrayal. She ran over him with the car. Twice. The dickhead didn't die though.
So... due to stupid drama i had to move. Here i am in my new home though with no real remaining problems. i hope my great readers manage to find me here. i hated pulling up stakes like that, but i felt my family was in jeopardy. So here we are.
Return to regular posting tomorrow. Thanks for following me.
The house was huge. To me it looked like an exotic castle from the east. A home suited to a sheik or something. The word that echoed over and over in my mind when i saw it was opulent. It had taken us about 2 hours to get there, and we were far from anywhere i knew well. John fed me a few more tic tacs from his palm then came around and got me out of the car. He held my hand tightly, and i have no doubt next to his giant frame i did look rather small and weak. i weaved and staggered, but he managed to guide me up the lighted walkway. A young man met us at the door and sent John away. He was told to come straight in the back door when time was up and get me. Mr. Catlette had a way of loosing track of time the young man said. John nodded, patted my ass and was gone. "You don't look Father's type," the young man told me. i shrugged and followed him. He took me through a nice dining room, down a long hall and to a door with sticker ballet shoes on it. He opened this door with a key, because it had a padlock on it. He shoved me unceremoniously into the room and slammed the door behind me. i heard the lock being engaged. i looked around the room. It was large, and brightly furnished with sunny yellow ruffles and white whicker. At the vanity i found pictures of a girl of about 13 years. She was posed with friends, posed in her cheerleading uniform, posed with a gorgeous horse. In every picture her eyes were dead. The lips smiled brightly, with beautiful teeth flashing, but the eyes were old and cold and dead. i backed away from the vanity, and the living dead girl pictured there. i backed over to the bed and sat down. Dreading what was to come, but wanting to be done with it. i've always hated waiting to suffer. Let's be done with it already. Some time later, i was getting dangerously sleep and had laid my head against the post of the bed and was drowsing when the door burst open. It was the old man. He grabbed me off the bed and slapped me smartly across the face. "You can't get away from me, you little bitch. Nothing can save you. Not even death." i had no idea what he was talking about. i hung limply as he shook me like a ragdoll. Looking at that enraged old monster i blessed John and Benny. i felt so numb and removed. That blessing lasted through being thrown to the floor. Through watching him drag his belt off. Even through the beating. Through the bites, but it began to fade by the time he opened the drawer and pulled out the knife. It faded more as he pulled my nightie off and began to poke at my tits with sharp point of the knife, causing little rivulets of blood to flow. When he leaned down and licked at the blood with his disgusting old tongue my cloud of numbness abandoned me altogether. i began to whimper. "Ahh, yes, my sweet. Cry for me. Scream. Moan. But, utter a word I don't ask for and I'll cut your sweet pink tongue out." What he was doing was so reminiscent of my grandfather, his tone so like his, i knew unequivocally he was telling the truth. So i kept this warning at the forefront of my mind. And, i held on. i held on through his light stabs to my pussy, and licking of the blood. i held on as he wiped my blood into his palms and made me crawl across the room licking it off. i gagged and choked and nearly puked, but i held on. But, when the noose went around my neck, suddenly all i saw was the dank dirty and dark basement of long ago. And, as i tried to balance on tiptoe so as to choke less, i heard another old gravely voice call me cunt. And, when the noose pulled me off my feet, i found the hole in the wall in front of me and escaped.
i don't know what young part of me was left with this monster. i know that they must have told him quite a bit because eventually after several more visits, i was no longer taking to the room of his daughter, but to my own room, which lead to a basement. In the end tasting my old pain would be even more delicious than reliving what he did to his daughter. Who i eventually learned committed suicide at 13.
Benny let me drink rather more than i should have, and gave me one of his own morphine tablets on top of the already massive amount of narcotics John had given me. By the time John returned to the back basement room looking grim, i was nearly gone. Everything is in flashes after that.John showing me how to use the steel wool to scrub the inside of my vagina so it would bleed easily. Benny walking away in disgust.The sweet little pink nighie that was too tight across my tits and had to be exchanged for something with a chartoon character on it.John brushing my hair so gently.And, finally, the lines of coke so i would wake up a bit.Then we were in the car. John looked over at me and sighed."You be a good girl now. Be a real good girl and this will be over in a couple of hours and I'll give you a treat."
