This Blood On My Hands

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

[ Warning: Sensitive subject material ]

I'm 15. My parents let me drive their car. I don't have a license, but I have a permit and they make me go to the store for them to save them the trouble. It probably isn't very responsible for upperclass suburbian parents, but what no one knows won't hurt them. They only send me out at night anyway and I make sure I go to the south side of town where no one will question it. Things are cheaper there anyway.

Maybe I was just naive, being a 15 year old girl without much life experience. Maybe it was just bad luck on my part. Maybe it was my parents fault for not being responsible adults. The fact of the matter is I was stupid and too naive for my own good. At least I learned a vaulable lesson from it.

 * * *

Pulling out of the parking lot, I began my drive back home. A simple 15 minute drive from the start of the south side of town back to the quiet north suburb, not that I had a time limit. Maybe that was why I stopped. There's a particularly foresty part when swtiching from South to North, and he was laying on the side of the road as if he were dead. I felt bad for whoever he was.

I pulled over, mistake number one. There wasn't another car in sight. When I got out of the car he just laid there, his clothes were tattered and dirty and he didn't say anything when I stood over him. "Hello?" I asked, holding my hair out of my face taking a look at his oil smeared brown skin, and close shaved hair cut. He had to have been my age or a little older.

He rolled over to look at me, and just as my mouth opened to ask if he was okay he rolled to his feet and grabbed me by the back of my head, his fingers grippng in my hair painfully tight. Slamming me into the car, I tried to scream but his other hand rammed up against my mouth shoving a dirty bandana between my lips thats tasted of sweat and dirt and muffled my screams.

His hips pressed into me from behind, and I could feel his body looming over mine, suffocatingly close. I couldn't move. He was a lot bigger than me; his hulking frame covering mine, holding me still and silent. Even though I was just a sheltered 15 year old, I knew what was coming next. It had too. That's the way the world worked.

His hand manuvered behind me and I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled down. My eyes shut tight as I kept trying to scream, holding onto some hope that I would suddenly be heard. So pointless. Then came the creeping sensation of his hand at the front of my pelvic region. I squirmed, screaming and struggling against his oppressive body before his mouth was by my ear whispering sweet threats without any regret. "Keep quiet, bitch. Or I'll take more than your precious virginity," he snickered, and his hand yanked at my pants before pulling them open, "You are a virgin aren't you?"

Sucking in air through my nose before helpless whimpers spilled from my mouth once more, no longer screams. I twitched my body as much as possible while I felt his slimey hand dragging down my pants and underwear. My breathing grew ragged as I knew that inevitable moment was drawing closer. His fingers dug into my hair, ripping my head back and making me cry out from pain, "Stop moving or I'll gut you like a fucking fish."

I froze instantly, my heart hammering in my chest just moments before I felt that sharp tug and breach of my most personal of spaces. There was a moment of instantaneous pain, and silent tears began rolling down my cheeks, fighting for each gasping breath that couldnt come quick enough through the bandana shoved in my mouth. Breathing through my nose was not an option, my nostrils withheld me from taking in enough air, but the banadana restricted almost the same amount I needed to take in.

It wasn't over near as quick as it began. Scenes like this are portrayed in mere seconds in the movies. For me it was an enternity. The constant non-rythmic thrust of his hips hitting my backside lasted forever, each time slamming into me with enough force I knew I'd be bruised tomorrow. A lot of things would be bruised tomorrow.

Why was this happening? Why me of all people? What had I done to deserve something like this? I had never been a bad kid. I obeyed my parents even at their worst, I worked hard in school, I never caused trouble for anyone. I was a rule follower. A sheep among the flock. So why had I been chosen for this?

And that was when I lost my faith. I had never been really religious to begin with, but something in that instant just so profoundly screamed at me that there could be no all powerful, loving creater when he let his children bear this kind of torture. Maybe it was a weird thing to think about at the time, but I just felt so suddenly broken. My mind had formed a sort of hazy barrier between me and the real world. So while I knew something horrible was actually happening to me right now, I couldn't seem to focus on it.

I don't know how long I was held against my parents vehicle and violated by some greasy thug, but it was over with and he was letting go of me. Stepping back as I just sagged against the car with my pants around my ankles. I think he was actually starting to panic then, I didn't see his face but I heard as he began to stumble backwards, muttering rapidly to himself. He had just scrambled into the woods when I realized there were lights glaring in my view, drawing closer.

I shrank down just before they reached my car, my brain kicking into gear with a start as I heard the vehicle race past me, followed by three others. I was gasping for breath, pulling the bandana out of my mouth with trembling fingers. And then I was screaming.

I shrieked into the darkness, sobbing with echoing wails that taunted me as the trees threw them back in my face. Tears, cold and wet, rolled down my cheeks as they made my eyes become red and swollen. I couldn't see through the blurriness, but I clenched my jaw to try and keep from my loud sobbing while I pulled my pants and underwear back up, sliding them over aching flesh with timid movements.

I stood, my knees going weak halfway through and making me collapse on the ground with a hopeless wail. I let go of my jeans which were unbuttoned still and used my hands to steady myself, first using the tire to pull myself up, then the side mirror. My hands fumbled together as I tried to pull the zipper up, slip the button through the hole.

There was a hitch in my breathing as I stumbled around to the drivers side, using the hood of the car to hold myself up with arms that shook and quaked. Somehow, I made it into the car. Somehow, I made it home. And somehow, I managed to do both things without falling apart until I got home, where I set the groceries on the counter and slip back into my room before my parents can notice I'm back.

And when I was in my room, alone and isolated, I began to sob all over again, clutching a pillow to my chest. Wails racked my chest as I vomited them into my pillow, letting the cloth absorb my noises and mask them into oblivion. Till finally I fell asleep on the floor, unable to forget how the man felt behind me, inside me, covering me.

* * *

I am 18 now and I am dying. I'm dying because I cut.And I cut so I can feel.

What a shame.