| Don't Forsake Me Summary: My life, for lack of a better phrase, is f*cked up. My mother thinks I'm a mistake. My stepfather abuses me. There is nothing to eat in this house except alcohol. My little sister and I can't survive this for long. Please don't forsake me.. (Deals with Rape. If you are offended or sensitive about this topic, please do no read any further.) Author's Note: My first attempt at a dark fic/story. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * His fingers bite into my skin as he slams his hips against mine. I cry out in pain, and it only turns him on more. He's tearing at my blouse and ripping them away. His grip is like iron around my wrists. I can feel my fingers growing cold. Every thrust of his hips is pain. I cry for him to stop, but he doesn't. I should be used to this. It's not like this is the first time. I can feel his fingers worming its way to where we are joined. I don't want this. I don't. I chant it in my head, but my body betrays my thoughts as I convulse around him and hear him grunt and feel him spill his seed inside me. I want to vomit as he forces a hard, sloppy kiss on my lips and leaves my bedroom to go to work. As I hear his car drive off, I leap of the bed in search of mom- only to crumble to my knees. I'm so weak. I wince at the jolt of pain I encounter in every step as I limp into the living room and find that mom is passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of alcohol hanging from her limp hand. Why? Why am I here? Do I have a purpose? Am I just here for my stepfather's pleasure? What is my worth? Do I hold any value whatsoever? Am I wasting space in this world? Or maybe I am here for that very reason. Maybe I am here to fill up the empty spaces. Those little cracks and holes in someone's life. or heart. Or maybe I'm reading into it too much? Maybe there really is no such thing as "Everything happens for a reason." I realize that this could be true. My mother *did* say I was mistake; she says it wasn't her fault she forgot to tell her boyfriend to put on a condom during their throes of passion. My biological father. Well, I don't know *who* he is. let alone where. These bruises from my mom's husband have not healed, and my cuts are still bleeding. My. everything is still bleeding. I lean over a crib. And yet. my little sister thinks I hold some greater purpose. She wounds her chubby little hand around my index finger and looks up at me with those wide, bright, and oh so innocent eyes. She looks at me like I'm hope itself. Like I can change things. But silly me. Of course that's not true. My little sister is barely a year old. She knows nothing. She's probably just holding my finger because it's something to do. Or. Or maybe. just maybe she really *does* think I can change something as hopeless as our life- She tugs my hand to her mouth and begins sucking on it. Or maybe she's just hungry. I sigh and remove my finger from her mouth; then starts the crying. Her pink lips spread open into a perfect "o" and tears pour out from her questioning eyes. She thinks I don't want to feed her. I pick her up and begin rocking her back and forth, pressing kisses against her hair. Poor thing. It's bad enough that I can't feed myself. But I can't even feed you. There's no milk for you today, sweetie. there's nothing, again. Again, I'm sorry. Again, I wish our lives were better. Again, I pray that God will send someone to help us. To save us. Again, I beg. I beg to a God that I've screamed my pain to, that I've said things to that would make the devil blush. I beg to a God who I've cried out to but was never heard. And yet I find myself on my knees once more, clutching my little sister to my chest. With tears spilling down my cheeks, from hunger, from anger, from loneliness, from neglect, from weariness, from pain and suffering. I beg. Please do not forsake me. Please. ..Deliver us. ...And as I wait for something spectactular to happen. As I wait for some bright light to show itself, to tell me everything is going to be alright... All I see is darkness as the sun fades from view. And the only bright light that shines in my eyes is the headlights from my stepfather's truck. He's back early. He's in the room, tugging me to my feet and, thank God, gently laying my sister back into her crib without harm. He turns to me and gives me an evil smile. I want to scream. He tells me he's brought some friends who want to meet me. The headlights flicker as two men walk in front of them and enter the house. I send another cry to God as their fowl breath surrounds me, their grotesque hands pawing at me. Please don't forsake me. My stepfather unzips his pants, and the other men follow suit. Please don't forsake me, I beg as I take one of my father's friends into my mouth and gag, tears leaking from my closed lids. From my position, I look out the window to see any sign that He might have heard me. But all I see is the sun disappearing behind the mountains. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Reviews are welcomed. But please no flames. |