The Pain that Made Her Beautiful

PMHB ch32 (Pic of Brenden)

Avel was praying the same phrases, over and over again, “Lord, keep Neorah safe. Let your will be done, but, please, Jesus, watch over her.”

He was transferring from the first phrase to the next when he heard the shriek. It was deafening. It was… it was Neorah! She was in danger! Avel tried to pound down the door with his fists only succeeding in getting splinters and bruises, along with coarse shouts from the guards in the hallway to be quiet or they would quiet him themselves. Avel sank to the floor next to the door and listened to the guards make vile and crude jokes about the shrill screams coming from up the hall. He also listened to the sadness that they carried with them. There was a severe brokenness in the shrieks that held a haunting quality. They shook Avel’s very world and drove his very soul to cry out as tears rolled down his cheeks.

There was something wrong with a man who would consciously hurt a girl who was as good as Neorah was. There was something wrong with their heart to have such cruelty with any woman. It just wasn’t right.

Avel turned his head up to the ceiling, blinking tears, and whispered, “Why, God, if you are a God of love, the Forgiver of lost souls, the Sheppard of lost sheep, why would you let something this violent and cruel and—and just downright wring happen to a girl who loves you as much as she does?”

His answer came immediately, “I turn evil into good and I alone know how it will blossom into that which is good. I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

The man, better yet, beast, responsible for this monstrosity did not know the Lord of the ages ye, and, therefore, had blackness still engulfing his soul; he did not have the ability to see that what he was doing was wrong. Either he knew it was wrong, or his conscience had been trained otherwise.

The shrieks changed to shrill yells; then to loud sobs, then whimpers. Neorah had given up. She was a broken spirit. She would never be the same again.

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Neorah had tried to push him away. She had tried to close her legs. She had tried, but nothing happened. Brenden had been brutal with every stroke of his sword. There was a sharp pain with every beat. There was something wet and hot coming out, when she later looked, it was blood. There was so much blood. He wouldn’t be told what to do. He wanted a woman but he finished with a broken soul. He wanted a child, Neorah wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to have children after this.

It took her a time to accept, but after she did, Neorah knew that after this experience, and whatever was to come, she would never be the same innocent, unsoiled dove again. Everything was gone that she had treasured.

Neorah was finally able to start to understand the hopelessness that ruled in Nayeli’s life so prevalently. There really was nothing to come from men or their touch other then pain, degrading exploitation, and—and nothing good at all.

After that thought, Neorah almost bit her tongue, as her mother had often told her to do after a snide remark, when she remembered Avel’s tender eyes looking back at her. There was no one she wanted at her side right now than Avel, in fact. Neorah felt safe around him. She knew he was honorable and kind and, and, everything that Brenden was not! Oh! Her poor soul, she had lost her most prized possession and, hadn’t just lost it, or freely given, but it was taken from her with as much cruelty and vulgarity as possible.

Up down, up down. It was a motion that seemed to go on for days. She had seen Brenden come toward her. He had ripped off his toga, then hers. She had kicked, scratched, hit, shoved. Anything she could do just to get him to leaver her alone. Nothing worked. The monster was immovable. He would not leave her. He possessed her body. With his own, Brenden made Neorah’s body dirty, unclean… soiled.

After her whimpers had subsided into silent resentment, Neorah had simply looked at the ceiling, internally praying, “God. Please, God. Why have you not delivered me from this—this monstrosity; there is no way to cleanse myself bodily, now, from this impurity that has just entered, and shattered, my very soul. Help me, Jesus. Please.”

There was nothing but a simple answer, “I turn evil into good. Let me remain as your Rock. Neorah put your trust in Me.”

It seemed as though it had been days when there was a warm flow. Then the pain subsided, slowly. Brenden left as quickly and harshly as possible. In response, Neorah could not help but shriek.

Brenden sat on his knees as Neorah pulled hers into fetal position. He eyed her greedily and said, disdain dripping from his words, “German whore!”

He then reached for her feet to pull them down and out. Neorah held on tightly. As one hand grasped each foot, Neorah shook her head, eyes wide with fear, and begged, “No, no, no, please, my lord, no!”

Brenden just smiled a lustful and exploiting smile. He was pulling her legs. Neorah would have fought, but she had not the strength. Brenden pulled them out so she was lying flat on her back. Neorah crossed her arms over her chest to give her a small moderation of modesty.

“Why would you do that, my love? We have already consummated our marriage, have we not?”

“What marriage!” Neorah was furious that he had the nerve to say such an enraging thing, “We never got married, remember! You decided to attack me!”

Brenden’s eyes flashed fury at her insubordination. He looked at Neorah and said, “Wife, do not be so quick to accuse me, as I am your husband.”

With that, Neorah opened her mouth to speak another snide remark. Before she could even form a single syllable, his mouth touched hers. She dared not impugn on his right as her, so-called, husband. Neorah wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t, she had to play along, as best as she could. Soon after, there was a large shove.

Neorah gasped in pain. Her vision went white with trauma. Then the rhythm started again. The tearing before was made worse. More blood ran. With every beat, Neorah sobbed loudly. When she tried to close her eyes and look away, Brenden yelled, “Look at me! And don’t stop!”

She opened her eyes to look upon the cruel face of Brenden. Every beat brought a shock wave of pain that racked through her body with a paralyzing force. Every stroke sent a new wave of tears streaming from Neorah’s eyes. The worst part was, every time she would close her eyes as a reflex, Brenden would shout, “Look at me!”

When Neorah looked at him again, his next blow was even more severe than those before, and, as a response, Brenden would smile malevolently in her pain. It was that much more painful this round than the last because of his mere enjoyment of this excruciating experience.

Blood trickled slowly, now, down her leg, as he continued to pound his mallet.

Then there was a slow pick up of flow down her leg as Brenden stopped and looked at Neorah. His eyes were wide and he slowly pulled away.

“Martha, Bernice, come and clean up this mess!” Brenden said loudly as he walked away from the bed, naked. In his nudity, Neorah saw that there was blood spattered down to his mid-thigh…my blood.