Pain

Reads: 49  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Trigger warnings, trust me.

What’s going on?

Your mind’s cloudy; fogged from a subtle waking. You feel something brushing; no squeezing your ass. 

What’s that noise?

You begin to turn, but realization hits like ice in your veins. You pause.

How naive you were.

Why didn’t you say anything when he sent you those weird messages? It was a flirting emoji.

Why didn’t he tell your mom about him stroking the back of your neck? How it made you feel wrong and scared. Why didn’t you tell her?

Stop. Please, someone stop him!

Just keep moving. Almost like a second voice, so clear. Telling you to just roll in the blanket. There’s a lump in your throat. Your chest is tight. You can’t breathe. Heart’s in your ears. You can’t scream.

He’s hurt you before and your mom. He’d hurt you again. Maybe even kill you. You can’t scream. 

Just move. Keep twirling. Don’t let him do this.

You shouldn’t be out here. Normally, you’d be in his bedroom with your brother and the door locked. But your brother slept at a friend’s and your step brother took the room.

Is this why he was begging you to sleep? Your mom had been asleep for hours; so why did he stay up? 

Just keep moving.

His hand’s like a spider creeping up your thigh. Just keep moving. The noise is louder. Don’t let him touch your vagina. His hands speedily; desperately squeezes at your privates. His breath fast. He’s enjoying this. You wanna scream; puke. Die.

The noise grows louder. You didn’t know what it was at first; or maybe you didn’t want to admit it. You weren’t entirely naive. You’re sixteen. You’ve had video chats with guys. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s going Faster.

And your mom’s right there, passed out. You could scream and she’d hear you. He’ll kill her.

This can’t be happening. He’s supposed to be your father; a protector. 

Please stop this.

Your mother begins to stir, as he races toward the back sliding door. 

You lay still, heart racing. You can’t breathe. You might faint.

“What are you doing?” Your mom’s voice is groggy. 

He mumbled something about his computer, walked and kissed her; told her to go back to sleep. 

Blood rushed in your ears. You can’t breathe. You leap from the reclining chair and immediately get on your laptop. You sms as many as your friends as you can but none offer any real help. Just apologies.

You don’t go back to sleep. You can’t. Your mind’s going over everything. When you were fourteen and woke up with him on top of you, riding you but your clothes were on. His hand on your breast and his fingers in your mouth. You’d blocked it out. But now, it stuck in your mind like tar. You recall every moment he made you feel wrong and scared. Everything you feel now, anger, hatred, shame, sorrow, disgust, fear; all in one and you’re drowning in them all. You want to run away. But you’re trapped. 

Finally, golden rays stretch through cracks in the blinds. You find yourself driving. You’re going to pick up your brother. You’re wailing, the pain inside you like chains tightening inside your bones. Your brother takes a glance at ya and just knows something happened. You tell him through a clogged nose and tear filled eyes. He says to tell mom.

But you don’t want me to tell her with him there. She stays the entire day you’d normally be back at your apartment, but not today. No, instead every second feels like an eon. You don’t want to eat. You just want to leave. 

Almost bedtime; finally home. It takes a moment for courage to break through this abyss of pain. You tell her, with your brother’s support.

She doesn’t ask many questions. “Do you want to tell the police?”

“I don’t have proof.”

Relief as you buckle your seat. You’re going back home; to your grandparents. You sleep. She believed you.

Awake. Mom asks if you want to stay with your grandparents or go back to the city. 

You want to stay home. The only place you ever felt safe; loved every single day. Where you were free. You wanted life there.

You’re broken now. They’d have so many questions. They’ll bully you again. You don’t want that. You can’t handle that.

And you're in the vet-tech class. You’re so close to achieving your dream. You don’t have a future down here and you know that. 

So you return, told that you’ll never see him again. You’re numb, not processing what happened. You haven’t really slept. It’s been days. 

Your mother is weak. You love her, but she never loved herself. Never thought she deserved anything more than a psychopathic pedophile. He’d beat her, but she went back. Hurt us, and just went back. He molested you, but she went back. 

“Stop lying.” Her words cut like a flaming sword through your soul. You stop breathing. Stop eating. Stop trying. You messed up as a teenager, lost control like so many do. You made mistakes and because of that she will never believe you. She hates you.

You’re getting in the way of her happily ever after. We can’t all live together if I say he’s touching me. That’ll ruin their perfect little life. You’re just a liar, he’s the man you should give a chance to.

You and your brother go hungry. She leaves cans, expired food; while she eats with him.

Your brother distances himself. It’s your fault. You’re going crazy. Your best friend has a solution. He always did when everything was too much.

You write censored stories as your mom insists on screening everything. She thinks your dumb enough to write your true feelings in things she can read. Still, it’s an escape. 

You try not to think about her kissing that monster. About that moon she gave, as though you were the perverted monster. No love there, just disgust.

And it was to you. So you write, to not feel ashamed. Maybe if you’d only worn long pants, no tanks. Maybe if you hadn’t just let him caress the back of your neck. Maybe you shouldn’t have smiled. Maybe you shouldn’t have hugged him. Maybe you shouldn’t have sat beside him. Did you make him think you wanted him?

You write for a year; numb and empty. Nightmares begin. Him after you with shadow creatures and fire. Sometimes they still happen…

Eighteen. She brought him to your graduation; the overflow room. But you didn’t want him there. You confront her. 

“Just stop, you wouldn’t have even known if we didn’t say anything.”

But you knew she would do that. Because she doesn’t love or care about you. He’s the only thing that matters to her. 

You’re about to start college. You know you’ll fail. You can’t handle math or science. Your boyfriend just left you. You’re empty and alone. You just want to go to sleep and never wake up. You have those pills.

Seven years.

You chose to leave college. You can’t finish. You don’t have the funds and switching majors to what you actually want to do; it wouldn’t have changed that. You thought you found love, only to find your real one years later. 

You don’t know if you’re grateful that your best friend saved you. You love your one. You love your kids. 

But life is so hard and your mom…

You blocked her out when she got pregnant again. How that stung; like a glass in the heart. Your soul shattered entirely that day. Especially when you found out she wanted it to be a girl.

A boy they received. You still love your mom, even though everything she does with him hurts you. You fear for her and your baby brother’s safety. But what can you do? She doesn’t believe you and you have no proof. 

So you write. Because if you felt that pain you’d crumble to dust. How your mother’s distrust and disgust lies only for you. That she can kiss a creature who touched her daughter. Her baby that she’s supposed to fucking protect. How she could fuck the monster that destroyed the last bit of innocence you were desperately attempting to cling to. That little bit of light in you that could've saved you from getting so low. How almost everyday, you still feel like dying because all this pain just won’t go away.

So you just write. Because you believe in a better life. Because you believe you are worthy of a good person; a real love. You believe you can heal. 

So you write.

Just write.

Survive.



 


Submitted: May 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 kiara brae. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

More Non-Fiction Short Stories

Other Content by kiara brae

Book / Literary Fiction

Miscellaneous / Other

Short Story / Non-Fiction