Wednesday, March 7, 2007

   Story???
The early morning sun had just barely come over the horizon, shining through the window of the decrepit old house. The birds outside sang happily, greeting the new day as a day of new beginings, of seond chances. Inside, the small girl sitting in the corner closed her eyes, not wanting to see light enter the room again.
To her, the light only meant another day of pain, another day of being captive inside the dark house. She couldn't do anything about it.
What little happiness that she used to get out of remembering good times with her street dwelling friends had long since lost its luster. Six months of pain with only the next day to look forward to, had done that to her. It had stripped away her happiness, just as her clothes were every day.
She opened her eyes, tears flowing again, and she hugged her knees to her chest. The tattered legs of the jeans hanging over her bare feet like a gown, an old pink shirt hanging over her shoulders, shadowing her thin and hurt body.
The door clicked, and she looked up quickly, her grey eyes filling with fear. Peering through her dark brown hair, she could just barely make out the door.
The door opened, and she just yet again was forced to wait for the man to enter.
He came in, quiet as a shadow, and approached her small form, which was huddled in the dark corner of the old room. His hand gripped her wrist, pulling her up, and he pulled her not so gently towards a bed on the far side of the room.
The bed was the only peice of furniture in the room, It's large, oak frame taking up alot of the space in the small room.
He held her in front of him, her head aimed down towards her feet. His hand gently lifted up her chin, forcing her to look into his face. His evil green eyes met with the soft grey eyes of his prisoner.
A grin crawled along his face, the white teeth slowly showing themselves again, for what seemed like the thousandth time to her.
He knelt down, and pulled her torn jeans off of her legs, than her blue boxers. He stood back up then, pulling off her pink shirt and then the old bra she had on.
Standing naked now, her hands her arms at her sides, she waited for his hands to pull her onto the bed, touching her in places that should only have been touched by a husband she didn't think she'd ever have.
She heard the sound of his own clothes hit the ground, her hand gently tracing an old cut that still hurt her.
Then his rough hands shoved her on to the bed, and his body crawled on after her.
Her screams and pleadings for mercy rang through the empty house, but there was no one to hear her. No one to help her.

Yeah. Disturbing. But I was high on Vicadin, don't blame me!

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