Fear

          She was there, she did not move at all. Not even a minor glitch. Her mind was flashing about what happened a while ago. It never ends and it will always come again. IT. She recalls the occurrence scene by scene. It flashes through her mind, frame by frame sitting beyond her eyes. She stared blankly in despair. 

Horrified and paused.

          She gently moved her wounded body. She stroked herself with the tips of her fingers. Starting from her bruised breasts, she circled her finger tips around them. She took a look; she saw her breasts black and blue, filled with marks and tiny scratches. She pressed her palms on her badly swollen nipples, trying to comfort the vigorous swell. Like a mother whom sings softly to her ill baby. She continued to stroke her body, all around with her finger tips. As she strokes, she looks. She saw marks, tiny scars, bruises but the most clear was dirty hands all over her. She couldn't see them. She felt it. She can visualise it with disgust and as if her brain remembers every single painful touch bestowed on her vulnerable body.

          She slowly moved her fingers to her stomach, she couldn't bear sliding her finger tips over it. It is so painful there. She took a look; there is a map of bruises all over. She can see foot prints on her fair white skin but now so red and purple. Just like blood waiting to rip out of her stomach. She slowly took a hold of her hips. From there she strokes and slides with her finger tips, passing through her vulva to her mons wounded but bedded with hair. She then glides over to her clitoris, it was swollen and silently weeping with little drips of blood. She wiped away the blood. She tried to stop her bleeding like a disturbed mother keeping her baby from crying and screaming. She then glides over the inner and outer labia. Just gently but like an agent handling an important inspection. It was wet, wounded and battered. 

She knew where it would hurt the worst. 

          Today her stomach got hit pretty badly but what hurts the most is her heart. She took one of the shredded cloths lying all around the space. It was her dress but now tore into shreds. She gently moved her body closer to reach the cream-coloured cloth stained with ripples of blood. She grabbed one of the many pieces and gently wiped her thighs. Her thighs, her soft thighs were stained with blood. Ever so lightly she used the cloth to cover her vaginal opening. She shut her eyes and let out a little moan, she wouldn't dare to make a sound but the pain was unbearable. She quickly covered her mouth with her other hand. She opened her legs wide and took a look, with the cloth covering but not quite on her vaginal opening. As she stared at her pain, she silently sobbed. Soon her face was in tears while the creamy cloth slowly soaked with her blood.

Two weeks has passed and gone, the taste of fear became more intense and bitter. She thought she would be better off dead. Dead. Dead. Dead...


          At that dark corner, mysterious and exudes an extreme chill to the bones. A set of watchful eyes were hungrily staring at its prey. A movement was made, now a little out of the darkness; lights slowly whimpering its way into this dangerous blackness. The watchful eyes now can be seen; yellow, desperate and danger. A tall, creepy shadow was clearly projected on the wall. Hungry, lean fingers slowly show through the shadow. Just like a predator waiting and knowing that its prey will be his. Patiently waits for his prey, so ever confident. If he were to attack now, it'd be a success. Yet, he chose to watch first. The more he watched, the hungrier his desires grew. Watch and wait. Wait...


          A sudden pound landed on a fragile body. His hungry, lean fingers forced its way into her skin, causing her screams pierced into the walls on the room but none made it through far. His yellow eyes; like a mad's man, eyed on her body greedily. She decided that she couldn't let it happen again, no matter how much she has failed before. A slap landed on the greedy face of that predator, a sign of fight made him furious. Furious but infatuated by her struggles; just infatuate, he won't let it dwell any longer. It made him hungrier than before, he ripped off his trousers. A sight of something she never wanted to have her eyes lay on. Without any delay, he vigorously penetrated her with his mighty weapon. It is a weapon that sent her confidence back to the grounds. She let out a thunderous scream; he liked it so much. 
          This time, the scream is so loud, it made its ways through out, outside of the house. He felt so victorious, he roughly slide his penis in and out. His face was expressed so dirty and laughs were teased out loud. He enjoyed the whole process of the torment; he liked looking at her poor face. He robustly felt he won, he always got what he wanted with force. That was exactly what he was good at. 
          Strange enough, he didn't need to take his weapon out of her like he always did; to stuff his glory into her mouth and forcefully lubricating for smoother movement in his pleasure. He opened his mad eyes to catch a look. She has stopped screaming for awhile now, her body was motionless and lifeless. He slapped her and demanded her to make noises for him and be cooperative. If she doesn't, he shall hit her hard; teach her a lesson, like he always did. His yellow eyes switched attention and her eyes fearfully followed. He was looking down, while his penis was still in her vaginal opening; he saw blood. She weakly but angrily said, "I had a baby." He stopped and threw her a side. He walked towards her and kicked her on her back. "What did you say?!" his face was eager for an answer. Taking a moment, he realised that she was pregnant and she was having his baby. He questioned himself; he tried to resume what happened few weeks before when he had her. Images flashed by, he was rougher than usual and suddenly the flashes stopped. It stopped at one image, he was kicking and stepping her stomach repeatedly. His eyes were staring into space blankly. He was as still as a deceased.


There were sounds of the police car and an ambulance; loud and clear.


          On the next day, the newspapers hit the news-stand. The headline reads: Step-father kept daughter as sex slave in his own villa: He is convicted of murdering an unborn infant and repeatedly raping a girl who was under age. He was also found guilty for a series of other charges.


Months have passed.


          She looks different, her bruises were fading and her wounds were almost healed. There her hair, her beautiful long hair, shiny and thick. Her face always had this natural glow, milky and soft skin; so white and pure with features that compliments that face. Her eyes would make your knees weak, her luscious lips that would make you fall when she smiles, her nose; bulby but adorable and not too sharp and her cheeks lightly tinted like blushing wine decorated with freckles. A little too skinny and scars slightly protruding through her body. Her face is pale but healing. Her body is weak but still fighting. Winds were slowly breezing in from the windows. Her hair floated like seaweeds under the sea and her soft purple dress; flapping rhythmic in sync with the wind. She took a deep breath, the wind given her the lift she needed but the fear in her; firm and strong. Like a warning, constantly reminds her to be aware. She decided to put a stop to that. After all, she could now and must start over. It is just the beginning of her new life yet to commence.

`the end

NOTE: This is a fictional written piece.
Date of start: 21st April 2010
Finished on, 23rd April 2010

AUTHOR: MICHELLE S