Freedom

  She was scared. No. Scared was too mild a word, she was terrified, her legs quivered like they had been sucked dry of their sustenance, she had emptied her bowels twice already on herself. Her lips quivered and let out a whimper that was itself a ghost of the wailing her had just done. She is folded in upon herself in a fetal position, arms wrapped around her knees which were pressed to her chest. The tears which had flown freely just a while before had been exhausted along with her will to live. Her throat was sore, made so by the pleas she had screamed till her voice had become hoarse. But still he came.
  The door creaked and shook under the repeated hammering it took from the man outside as he used his weight to try to force it open, but it held for now. She knew what he’d come for, she’d known even on the first day he had come, bearing no semblance of craftiness or deception. Her stepfather had been drunk when he’d come (as he often was during the past year or so), he had laid down atop her while she slept, effectively shutting down any resistance she might have mustered. She had screamed for help, she had begged him to stop, he hadn’t. He had torn the buttons off her shirt as he clumsily attempted to take it off and forcefully pulled off the panties she had been wearing.
  That had been the first of many such nights. The vicious cycle had been completed time and time again, the drunkenness, the rape and finally her mother coming in to cry with and “comfort her”. The spineless bitch. She would weep with her daughter’s head in her hands while she whispered her drivel, how it would soon be over, how they needed him to survive, how she was working on an escape route. Drivel. On those occasions, only the despair and the trauma stayed her hands from wrapping themselves around the bitch’s throat.
  This time though, she was exhausted and she was angry and she was terrified. She had heard him coming and had bolted her door and now stayed at the far corner of the room while the beast of a man tried to break down the door and soon, she realised he was making progress.
  The first crack on the door beside the latch sent a crack through her heart too, like twin fingers of despair poking at her resolve. The tears that seemed to have finished came back in a flood as did the scream which had lost itself in her throat. She heard him hit the door again, with more vigor, realising that his prey was not so far anymore. A third hit elongated the cracks and sent little splinters flying, the fourth finally broke the door open.
  Her stepfather stood in the doorway for a moment, savoring his victory, his eyes were and angry red, made so in equal parts by both lust and intoxication. He wore a white shirt which had a violent red stain on one of the shoulders, the one he’d used to break down the door, she could see the bulge in his trousers, visible as it always was. She knew today’s session would be much worse than any of the previous ones, it was the first time she had put up any meaningful resistance and he would not be too pleased about it. She shifted as far back into her corner of the room as she physically could. There were no pleas anymore, no need for them, she was helpless and hopeless.
  He walked towards her until he loomed over her small frame and then smiled a drunken smile. He extended a hand towards her breast and she pushed it away. His face suddenly grew dark, the action had displeased him. He swung a fist at her head, catching her just below her cheekbone and the force of the blow made her head to swim. Her vision distorted but even then she could make out his shape as he reached down to his zipper. What little vestiges of hope that she had left vanished as she finally accepted the inevitable. But just then, just as the beast was about to begin his assault, his body jerked violently like lightning had struck him. She had begun to see spots in her vision but she could just about make out the form of a female police officer as she dropped the taser in her hand and rushed towards the increasingly limp figure of the girl. She saw the police woman’s mouth move to make out words but she didn’t hear them, all she could register was the sweet feeling of freedom.

Advertisements

1 thought on “Freedom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close