Scars (Part 2)

Continued from part 1.                                 



If you missed part one, click  here




I fear that I let them do it to me.  I fear that I gave them avenue to use me, to hurt me.  Deep down in my heart a voice says "no you didn't "



     Bill says "no you didn't "



     But it's obvious, isn't it? 



After mum remarried when I turned fifteen,  that was when the self stabbings and cuttings started. 



I think I gave them the cue. 



Mum, a career woman was rarely at home. According to her,  she remarried for me. So that I can have a man figure in my life.  I was always left with mum's husband and my step brother. 



That was when the blood began dripping and the smell began seeping out.  I bet they could smell it. 



  Dad,  as I had to call mum's husband,  raped me.  It didn't seem like a rape to me though. Somewhere in my mind I had anticipated it,  schemed and made the setup. And it seemed he had 



walked into my trap,  even when he thought I had walked into his.


Michael, my step-brother, was the devil. He'd taunt and curse me while we made love, and mocked me about doing both father and son.  He made it seem like my fault. I still think it's mine. 


He'd pull me by the hair and call me "slut". I'd cry and threaten to run away and never come back. He'd laugh and say I couldn't. 


I was the good girl in school. Although an average student. Nobody got to know the real me beneath my mask and clothes. I couldn't tell anybody of my painful pleasures. Although I had the feeling people already knew but were scared to confront me about it. How couldn't anybody see it? How couldn't they notice how I sat carefully for the pain in my thighs,  between my legs and my behind?  



And how couldn't they notice how I looked at the guys with needy eyes. How I hid my smile when the teacher lied about some facts on sex and pregnancy. And how withdrawn I was?

How couldn't anybody see it?  They sure did,  already know.  The smell was unmistakable.



I fell for my tutorial tutor. That was when the dizziness began. 



We had sex every chance he got. When he met my stepbrother and my dad,  the real horror set in.  They formed a box and locked me in. 


I'm still crying in Bill's arm. We missed our wedding night.  It's morning now.  I don't want to hurt Bill.  I don't worth him.  He is a replica of my father. The only good men that happened to me. 



The scars form a map in my mind. It seems to me that I must keep going round and round and round. Hurts are the bus stop. From one hurt to the other,  never ending.

 I wonder how many other young girls are going through same shameful hurts. Silently savouring every drip of pain. Silence is the worst death sentence.


Story written by: Revealtor (Ghost Writer) 


About Author 



Revealator is a ghost writer and works with Sleek_flint. He has interest in advocacy for child and woman abuse (especially women in abusive relationships).


Story Modeled by: Nimi Ngiangia