What Was Stolen from Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A young girls suffers through rape at the hands of her father.


Melissa walked towards the kitchen, she always found it the loneliest place in her house, her Mum would only cook there, than once preparations were complete, no one ever felt the need to enter it.  When she entered the kitchen the cabinets were filled with dishes, cups and bowls on one side and assorted herbal teas on the other side of the counter. Her Mum was tilted towards the sink doing the dishes she was to the right, below the cabinets. The sight of her face appeared lost with exhaustion. 


The thought entered Melissa’s mind, When’s a better time to tell her than now? She’s usually always doing something and at least she’s in one room. Before she opens her lips to spill her dreaded secret, she sits at the table and asked “Mum can we talk.” Her Mum then looked at her with a calm smile and stopped washing the dishes. It then hit her, her confession would change everything.


Her Mum was young, light brown skin, with a fair, calm face, whose lines spoke repression. But there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away at Melissa.


I am ready, Melissa thought. She then said, “Mum, I need to tell you something about Dad. He touched me,” she whimpered. She began to sob and those feeling of anger, pain and isolation left her body.


Her normally calm and pleasant demeanor slowly changed and her face twisted in anger. Her Mum then looked at her and screamed “Liar. How dare you? He’s your father. You must go on your knees and pray. Pray for forgiveness for being a liar.” Her nostrils were flaring, her mouth quivering her hands closed into fists and she leaned forward, daring Melissa to repeat once more the words that had torn her heart into remains.


She didn’t listen to me; she didn’t even hear me, entered Melissa’s mind. Her Mum was deaf to her words and forced her to kneel. Melissa had to repeat the words, “O my Jesus, forgive me for my sins, save me from the fires of hell, and lead my soul to heaven, I am in most need of your mercy.” Her chest swelled as the misery built up. However, upon seeing her Mum’s stressed features, she willed herself to repent against herself. Melissa tried to ignore the ringing in her ears, the heat coming from her cheeks as she felt the need to scream in anger for her Mum to just listen.


But after an hour of asking for forgiveness she couldn’t do it anymore. The thought of living under the same roof as her father was worse than her nightmares. She begged her Mum to listen. But her Mum wouldn’t even look at her let alone hear what she had to say. The pain was devoured her, until the point that she couldn’t do it anymore, and anger took over her body. She then clenched her fists so hard, her nails dug out into her palms causing a drop of blood fall to the floor. Her body began to tremble, and her hands became numb.


A scream escaped her trembling lips. “Look at me; I am your daughter. Just look at me, Please! Mom I was only twelve, I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t want to,” she pleaded.


Her mother then froze and stared at the floor her face turned red but not a word escaped her lips. Her cheeks flushed as the blood inside her began to boil. Then she clenched her fists and whispered in a sharp sibilant sound, “You pathetic girl. Liar. May God have mercy on your sinning soul. I will not put up with this anymore,” she said angrily. Then she calmly whispered “Maybe if you stopped dressing like a slut, then he wouldn’t treat you like one.” Then turned away and left the kitchen.


Melissa then felt the air leaving her body as though she couldn’t breathe, the feeling of being powerless overcame her just as someone slipping under water exhausted. The vacant stare and the look of despair had entered her eyes as her coursing blood felt cold under her skin that it filled every inch of her body.


Melissa was then left alone in the kitchen. Loneliness bit her to the bone so she left to the one room that gave her the sense of companionship. When she entered her bedroom, Melissa jumped into her bed and laid with her body clinched tight within the sheets of her blanket, quite motionless. Under the sheets she wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a hug as she gently rocked back and forth. Her cheeks were bright red as the pain consumed her; she was left to be surrounded by the four walls of her bedroom to shatter all her pain.


That night she laid in bed, eluding thoughts of what had happened. She thought about what she lost how she couldn’t bare the sight of her body in the shower. That she needed to close her eyes. In her bedroom the lights were off. I am scared by the sight of my body. My body is the image he must have seen. My body is what he stole and I now look through his eyes when I look at myself. I don’t want to see what he saw, she pondered.  


This place was her home. In the open window, in her bedroom, she stared out with the scene of trees that held the colorful autumn leaves that fell with a gust of wind. Looking out there was a scene above the horizon that glowed. It was like seeing the edge of the earth burning with the last light of day, with colors bright red and orange, she thought. She remembered that her Mum always said God shined from within the sunset.


She rested on the cool, comfortable sheets. Her mattress sagged between the planks while the images of god couldn’t escape her mind. Her Mum always said, “God works in mysterious ways.” She once believed her. But now she hated him, she didn’t believe God was the person she grew up knowing. She didn’t understand how he could sit above in heaven, and watch what happened to her watch everything.


She then placed her feet against the wall, slowly banging them to play a slow beat of music, she wanted to be out of her head, and she needed an escape. She began to look around at the familiar room, surrounded by the memoires of her childhood. When she looked towards the wall that her bed leaned on she was reminded of her old life as the family photo stood above her bed. In the picture her Dad and her Mum’s faces poured with joy and happiness. She stared at the photo with her Dad hugging her Mum while she rested on her Mum’s arms as a baby. Melissa thought, the picture doesn’t mean much anymore, just a faded memory from a distant past.


Back then her life was okay, normal. She was born in a mid-western city where her family consisted of Mum, Dad, and her. She grew up in a very small town, one that easily protected a bubble-like atmosphere. Crime was not an issue at least Melissa didn't think it was. Until that one night when she was 12 years old, things changed.


She was 13 now, and the nightmares came back every night. She was reminded that she was brutally stripped of her clothes, dignity and innocence. Her nights were filled with terrors, terrors of sitting upright in bed to see her father standing in her bedroom doorway. At night her heart raced and she could feel her hands shaking on her body. It felt so real, she thought. But at night every time she’d try to wake herself up she would jam her fingers into her eyes to see if her eyes were actually open. But the moment she realized they were really open the true terror began. If they were, she couldn’t tell herself that it was only a dream; she had to relive it, relive the nightmares of her naked body spread on the bed with the wrinkled cotton sheets drenched with blood, sweat and tears.


When she woke from her thoughts, she could hear the front door open then slap shut. Her body reflexes reacted from the noise. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing when she pierced her ears through the bedroom doors; she realized Mum was talking to Dad. She heard Mum say, “Sweetie, I heard something today, I don’t believe it but you should deal with it.”  Melissa could hear his anger in his voice as he shrieked. Then she began hearing stomps heading towards her room quickly getting louder.


Then her father slammed into her room then he struck her. The pain she felt was torture as she grasped her cheek in shock and pain as tears fell from her eyes. When she looked into his eyes she could tell his hand stung from the impact. The look felt more painful than the slap as the look of hated blazed through them. “Go to the kitchen with your mother, it’s time for dinner,” he demanded. Then turned and smiled at her Mum, it wasn’t a smile of relief but the face of someone who felt powerful.  “You made up wicked lies,” he stated. Looking back at Melissa he released his fist then began giving her a death stare. His eyes were bulged out with a vein throbbing in his throat. His jaw tensed.


Melissa composes herself although she feels physically ill to her stomach. As she descends the stairs she turns directly into the kitchen with her mother following behind. In the kitchen her Mum stood in silence. Then she looked up at her in anger, her upper lip curled to keep herself from speaking. She looked blank but Melissa knew her mind was whirling with thoughts of what he said. Jealousy spiked, and resentment arrived. Her Mum felt Melissa she had asked for it.  Her eyes then went dark, and her mouth became a straight line. “I don’t know why he would want you over me, you stole him from me” she indicated with her voice seething with anger. Turning away her mother looked at her father walking down the stairs and grabs the gun from his hand. BANG!


Little did Melissa know that she walked into her execution.

Submitted: December 08, 2014

© Copyright 2021 fatima abdi. All rights reserved.

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Ben A Vanguarde

Great storytelling and you handled an emotional subject with great aplomb. The twist was unexpected - I like that. Thanks for publishing and sharing.

Tue, December 9th, 2014 12:09am

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