How often we see on the news or read in the paper of a body found somewhere, maybe in the bushes or in the woods. Some stories are about adults, some are about children. It isn't considered unusual anymore, either, when we learn from the piece that there is evidence of abuse, sometimes sexual assault.
Although news like this can still cause us to feel disgust and anger, to shudder in disbelief and sadness, we sometimes find that such news isn't all that shocking anymore and we move on to other things. But, remember, for each and every victim there is a story; a story that leads up to the fatal end, whether the details are ever known or disclosed. Think of that the next time you learn of another discovered dead body because more outrage and action is needed if this type of violence is ever going to end!
This could be a person's story. This is just a story...
Walking in my nightgown, rubbing my eyes, and my father is sitting on the sofa with his friend. He pats the seat in the middle, I sit. Shivering from the cold, he hands me a quilt.
"Jessy, you love me, don't you?" I smile, "Daddy, you know I do." He smiles at me, he smiles at his friend, and his hand creeps toward me.
His friend takes one of my hands and looks me in the eyes. Daddy's hand is creeping up my nighty. His hand is so cold. I try to push his hand away but he is too strong. They look at one another and they nod.
I feel my palms sweat. Daddy's hand is under my knickers. "Daddy, I'm going to bed. I want to go to bed, " I say. But both have grips too strong for me.
Daddy's fingers are touching me. His friend leans close for a kiss. Why? His tongue moves inside my mouth and I am crying now. Daddy pushes the quilt to the floor. I try to break away, but I'm not fast enough. "Oh, Daddy, please stop! I love you, Daddy, please let me go!"
The friend pulls off my nightie, Daddy pulls off my panties. His friend pushes me down to the floor, my Daddy pins my hands down. I squirm, but Daddy's between my legs and it hurts so much! I cry, I scratch, but I can feel my skin rip. I plead, "Daddy, no, you're hurting me!" But, Daddy laughs. His friend laughs, too.
Daddy's friend pushes himself toward my face and, before I know it, I am gagging and can hardly breathe. What is happening to me? Why are they doing this? Who are these men? Where is my real Daddy?
Finally, they get off me and go back on the sofa. Daddy helps me get up and helps me put my clothes back on. He tells me how much he loves me and tells me to go to bed. "But, Daddy, why did you do it?" He repeats that I need to go to bed.
I lay in my bed, hugging my doll and sobbing. I have blood on me and I hurt so much. Daddy is still on the sofa with his friend and they are talking. There's a question, 'what if Jessy tells somebody?' They can't let that happen; they have to do something. But, maybe everything will be alright.
Two nights later, Daddy's friend is visiting again. Daddy comes and gets me out of my room and drags me by my hand to the sofa. I am crying and pleading, "Please, Daddy, don't make me do this!"
Daddy tells me everything will be all right because he loves me and his friend laughs. This time Daddy's friend goes inside me and Daddy keeps his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I am crying and shaking so hard.
As soon as Daddy and his friend move away, I jump up and run and I'm screaming as loud as I can scream! Daddy catches me. "What are we going to do?", he asks his friend. "She's going to tell somebody", his friend says. Daddy grabs my wrist and his keys. He tells his friend, "Come on."
I'm in the trunk of the car. We are traveling somewhere and it seems like such a long ride and I can hardly breathe. It's so dark, I am so scared!
The car stops. The trunk opens. Daddy takes me out, takes me by the hand, and pulls me through the stone wall and into the cemetery. He tells me how much he loves me, tells me how sorry he is, and kisses me on my teary cheek. Daddy backs away. I see his friend standing there with a baseball bat in his hand. He raises the bat, I see the bat coming, and ......................................
I am now in heaven. I am not hurting or scared anymore. But, Daddy, why? I thought you loved me.
9 comments on Just a Story (Thank Goodness!)
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Yes, there should be those reactions whenever anybody is a victim. It's important to remember that those who have died at the hands of a killer are victims of the most violent crime and, as human beings, may have been subjected to other violence/abuse as well. Don't discard emotions and outrage just because a victim may be a stranger because it is no less hideous than if the person is an acquaintance or loved one.
You had me gripped in that story. It's time to write a few and send them off the the easy reading mags. They are alway's looking for good short stories. SERIOUSLY! This could be a money earner for you
Well, I don't know about that good enough, money earning stuff, but I thought it was a good way of presenting a point.
If you don't try you'll never know
You know, you're right! I sometimes dont try because I figure I'll fail and I hate living with rejection, criticism, and disappointment. But, then, if I don't try, I'll never know if I would have ever been successful at anything, so I really should try, shouldn't I?
Hi Donna , I am getting your replies, but the personal messages are nice.
With reguard to others making you feel like a faliure just cos they may not like something about you, or something you have written. Stuff them. They mean nothing! If one article does not fit, then do another. As long as those closest to you keep on loving you, then no one elses opinion matters. Try Donna . YOU HAVE A GREAT SKILL!
I agree with all the above!!!!
Jackie, you are always so kind and encouraging. Thank you.