Warning: NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED. this story contains contents that may mentally harm young people. Well, i'd think so. All copyright belongs to me. Any breach of laws and consequences wil be seen.

Thanks.






CONCRETE ANGEL!! MA+15 {1}


The first time I laid eyes on the monster, he was wearing a mask. From the outside, he looked like a typical middle aged man with grey at the sides, a beard, and glasses that took up half his face. Behind the spectacles, he had dark moss eyes that were the only gateway to his true self. He wore the average wife beater singlets, the jeans, the flannel t-shirts. He even had the beer belly.

so, I honestly don't think people could blame me for not seeing it at first. He didn't look like a rapist or a child molester. Which i guess is why he was a good one. It's like my father used to say: If you trust people on appearance alone, you'll most likely burn under them.

My name is Isabelle Lincoln. When I was fourteen, my step father molested me, attempted rape, beat me and tried to drown me in the family pool. I never told anyone. I never did anything about it. I never trusted the only people that could help me. i was a sad case. Which is exactley why i want to teach others to learn from my mistakes. Silence brings nothing but pain. Words speaks louder than cries. Actions speak louder than words.

Which is partly why i call myself a concrete angel. For the few weeks after the attack, i did none of those things above, but sunk down into my own self pity. I felt like I was made of stone. Unable to think, to feel, to cry. It's because of that, the consequences of my unspoken words were far greater than any pain I encountered.

But if your not convinced, i suggested you read on from the beginning. To fully understand one of the biggest mistakes in my life, i'll have to take you into it.
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It was a normal, spring hot day in Toledo, Ohio, when I was suddenly approached by my brother, Jesse, down by the creek. He looked hot, sweaty, and stumbled when he walked, like his head was a constant spinning top.

I groaned. "Jesse, please tell me you're not high."

"Of course not!" he slurred, throwing up his arms and almost falling head first into the water. I sighed, disappointed with my used-to-be-role-model, and continued looking in to the murky liquid for any sign of tadpoles.

There was a splash, a curse, and a small girlish giggle that shortly followed. Sighing again, I ripped off my clothes, stripped down to my underwear and ploughed into the creek. Jesse was thrashing around, crying, while I yanked at his collar and pulled him onto the edge.

"You saved me, little sister," he croaked, tears running warm down his cheeks. Only they were happy tears. "I love you. I really, really love you."

"Eeek!" I shrugged on my clothes. "What ever you're shooting, I don't want any."

"You're missing out." Jesse taunted. He used me as a cane, leaning his entire six foot frame of muscles against me, as we waddled up towards the house.

There was an unexplained red truck in the driveway. It was old and rusted, clearly in the need of some TLC.

"Is that one of your buddies?" I asked my brother, who was busy rambling lyrics at his shoes.

"Buddies?" he quirked, almost excited. "I have buddies."

"That's not what I-..." I shook my head. "Never mind."

Jesse tripped through the stale open door, giggling and muttering curses. I followed him, only stopping when a man, around his mid forties stood fiercely in the hall, blocking our path.

Normally my older brother would shield me away from the man and threaten to knock his block off if he didn't explain why he was invading our territory. This time, instead of a hero, Jesse extended his arms, as if giving the man a bear hug.

"Jesse!" I hissed. What if he had knife or something? Jesse would be dead right now.

The man raised a hairy grey eyebrow curiously, dodged my brother's attempt at an overly-friendly greeting and instead held out his to the sane person Aka me. His hand easily over lapped mine and I felt tiny compared to him. He almost shook my arm off.

"Sorry for the startle, kids," he grunted, still wary of Jesse now to butt clenches in the kitchen. "The names Hank."

"Hi, I'm Isabella. But everyone calls me Izzy."

"Hello Izzy," he smiled.

I nodded, waiting for him to elaborate why he was here, only mum beat him to the punch. She flittered from her room, all sweaty and messy. Her t-shirt sticking to her boobs, (no bra) and her naked legs glistened in the sunlight.