Just a random story about who a girl goes to when she is abused. Takes place in 1800's. Not really the best thing I've ever written, but I'd thought I'd post it for kicks. Enjoy!
of those arms that grasped me so tight I’ll be bruised in the morning. I am already in pain.
Pain on my scalp where he pulled me by the hair, on my back where he flung me to the ground,
and the worst of all; the pain in places I’m too embarrassed to mention, the pain that I know
will hurt the longest.
I ran all the way across Fodair, past the Turners’ farm and through the market and over
the pond. I couldn’t just leave, I knew that. I didn’t have time to pack; I just needed to get
out of there. I had no idea how to survive on my own. I was symbiotic, and without a host. I
wasn’t thick enough to refuse help, however. I had been through this sort of thing before,
albeit it had never come close to being this bad, but I had needed help. And by now I knew
just where to get it. I couldn’t leave. But I could wait.
I went to the only place I felt that my father wouldn’t be able to find me but Daniel
would’ve. The garden. The tiny stretch of land two miles away from my house. The oasis Daniel
had showed my brother and I so long ago, when I was nine. I smiled inwardly, remembering my
stubborn old self. Andrew didn’t want to take me here at all and ruin their fun, and Daniel
was reluctant, but I was indignant, not taking no for an answer. Who was I to be left at home
while they had all the fun? I had been so innocent back then. Pure. So much had changed. Now,
eight years later, I felt dirty. Like I wasn’t worth anything anymore. Disposable. Maybe all
those things my father had told me were true. I was ugly, and stupid. No one could ever love
“No,” I told myself firmly. You can’t listen to him. He just wants to hurt you. I knew
this was true, and sometimes I even believed it, but there was a part of me that believed him.
A part of me that believed that what he did to me was justifiable, that I did deserve it. No
matter what I told myself, this belief remained. It was impenetrable. And I was too weak to
I took a deep breath, and lay back on the grass. This was the most comfortable
position, lying down with my legs together and my arms out. I closed my eyes. It was dawn, it
would be day soon. Day—it sounded so inviting; I had never wanted sunlight more than at that
moment. I focused on everything but the most important thing; instead of thinking of what my
father said to get me into his bedroom, (“Becky, come here, I’ve got something to show you.”)
or of where he’d grabbed me and squeezed, hard, or the feeling of his breath in my ear,
telling me that I deserved this, that I should enjoy it because it was the only time I’d
ever…I pushed that thought away, concentrating on the feeling of the grass on my hands, or the
breeze whirling through my hair. And then, after three hours or three minutes, I wasn’t sure,
I heard footsteps and a stunned, “Rebecca?”
I opened my eyes and saw Daniel. My savior, my one hope. He was standing there with a
book in hand, just as I pictured he would be. His hair was brown and overly long, and his tall
form cast a shadow over my body, still lying limp in the grass. He was looking down at me,
with a confused look in his eyes that searched me, asking what the heck I was doing here. I
wasn’t quite sure what I was doing here either, except—
“I need your help,” I spoke before my brain could catch up with my mouth. I sat up
slowly, trying not to awaken any of the pain. I looked back up at Daniel, who was still
looking at the place where my head had just been. “What time is it?”
Daniel didn’t look up at me. “About ten-thirty.” I must’ve fallen asleep somewhere in
I gave him a few seconds and then he offered me his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me
up into a standing position. This was the way Daniel was; always processing, constantly
thinking. His mind was logical, and I guess finding me here in such an odd position and
looking no doubt like a wreck defeated all logic for him. He was having trouble coming up with
an explanation for this.
He let go of my hand and looked at me for real now. I felt rather awkward, and I looked
over his shoulder, into the forest in the distance.
“You said you needed help?” Daniel said casually, as if I made such proclamations every
time I saw him.
I bit my lip and looked at him. “Yes. I do. But I don’t know what for, exactly. I just
need… some company I suppose. Someone. Please. I’ll explain later.”
“Okay then ma’m,” Daniel said, processing my answer and replying in his friendly,
joking tone. “How can I be of service?”
“I believe I just told you Mr. Harrison,” I said, playing along with him. “If you
wouldn’t mind having an extra shadow today, sir.”
“Not at all Miss Stephenson. My pleasure,” he replied, and with a gesture of his arm, I
walked with him out of the garden.
That day was a relief. It was surprisingly easy to not break down into tears about the
previous night; as long as I was busy and Daniel was talking I could pretend as though I was
the same girl I always was; not broken like I felt. We stayed mainly around the garden and his
house, at my request. I didn’t want to chance any visit with my father. Daniel was curious and
asked why I wanted to stay in one place and I merely answered, “family troubles.” He seemed as
though he understood, the fact that my brother and I didn’t have an ideal home life wasn’t a
secret. There was no way he knew how bad it was though. And I knew, if I wanted a place to
sleep tonight, I would have to tell him. Not that I wanted to, at all. It was all so
embarrassing. We poked around the forest, read some Tom Jones, (unbelievably bad!), had lunch
at his house (we told his mother that I had come over to borrow a book and Daniel had invited
me for lunch.)after lunch we went back out to the garden and sat. We would talk some. And then
be silent. It was nice.
We were lying in the grass when it occurred to me that Daniel had work to do on his
farm every day. I immediately felt guilty. “Don’t you have chores or something? I don’t want
to keep you from your work, I’m terribly sorry if I am. Oh no, what have I done, I didn’t
think this through at all…I ‘m so sorry.” I sat up suddenly, forgetting the pain, and soon
regretting it.. I had been extra careful today, but as the day went on I felt worse and worse
and worse. I grimaced and had a sharp intake of breath. Daniel noticed this and sat up too.
“What’s the matter? Something scare you?” he smiled, joking. He was not
aware of the pain I was in… everywhere. My legs and arms were especially sore, from where he
tied me down. The wind blew just then, and my sleeve twitched slightly as a result. From that
one glimmer of movement I thought I saw something yellow. I pushed my sleeve halfway up my arm
and gasped in shock: along my wrist was one line of yellow bruising, where I struggled against
the restraints. Further up, there were four similar bruises, each one long and stretching
partly around my arm, like stripes; where my dad had held me down, those marks were from his
fingers. “Oh no, oh no,” I whispered to myself. Daniel heard.
“What? What is it?” I didn’t respond, but instead pulled my sleeve up further. The
bruising went all the way up. I checked my other arm. The same. I was facing away from Daniel
in the split seconds it took me to assess the damage to my arm. My breathing became heavy,
suddenly every other pain in my body became heightened, ten time as powerful. I became dizzy.
I was going into shock. How could I have ignored this for twelve hours?
“Rebecca, what is going…oh my God…” Daniel had stood up, then taken my hand and helped
me up like he did this morning. Then he saw my arms. My breathing was becoming labored, at any
moment I was bound to break…
“What happened? How could…who did this…?” Daniel’s eyes swept up my arms. “Hold on.
Uhh, I need to… would you mind if I ripped the sleeves off?” I wasn’t sure what to make of
such an odd request. I wasn’t sure what to make of anything at that moment. I couldn’t speak.
I trusted Daniel, he was going to school to become a doctor, his uncle was one and he knew
what he was talking about. I barely nodded my head in consent.
“Thanks, hold on,” it seemed as though Daniel had already processed the bruising and
was ready to act. He walked closer, and with both hands clutching some fabric, ripped the
sleeve right off. His fingers grazed my forearm as he looked and I grimaced in pain. He looked
speechless. I stretched my arm out in front of him, and for a moment stopped breathing
completely. The bruising was the same here but there was more. Scratches, covered the area.
Not tiny scratches either. The kind that literally pulls skin off. There was dried blood all
over. No. This is too much. I can’t do this. No way. The pain was worse than ever now, so
much so that it was difficult to stand. I wobbled, but Daniel caught me.
“Woah. Easy now. What happened Rebecca? He had his hands at my waist. The feeling
reminded me of a time that seemed a million years ago… at a church ball when I was fifteen,
and he was seventeen. He’d danced with me only because I had no one to dance with, but that
had made my day. That was the first time I really recall thinking of Daniel as more than just
my brother’s best friend. It all seemed like a fantasy now. “Rebecca, please. What happened?”
his voice was pleading now. I was looking down, wondering what the damage on my legs was like.
He took one of his hands and raised my chin to meet his gaze. I took a breath.
“Last night, after dinner, my mother wanted me to help her mend some of Andrew’s clohes
for a gift when he gets back,” I began, sitting back down in the grass. Daniel sat too, closer
than what was necessary. “I sewed for about an hour and then my father called from upstairs
that he needed me for something. I eas use to this; it’s embarrassing but I’m sure you know
that he takes to the bottle frequently. This wasn’t the first time he’s asked me to do some
pointless task he would’ve been able to do had he been sober.” I paused, and looked across
the garden and at the mountains. So old, and yet so beautiful still.
“And so he called me upstairs and I heeded him. He was in my bedroom, which did not
alarm me too much because like I said he was on the bottle and didn’t exactly have his wits
I walked in there and he’s standing all quiet. He looks at me and says…says… says ‘I’ve
got something to show you Becka.’ He walked over to me and hugged me and whispered in my ear
that I was a very pretty girl and that girls like me deserve to be…rewarded.” Daniel, who was
sitting close enough to me that our shoulders were touching, got very still at that moment.
“Oh god…” I heard him whisper under his breath.
I wondered at whether I could make through this story without breaking down. I knew I would
have to tell him, but I was still embarrassed, which sounded ridiculous, especially after
Daniel had seen the bruises. I just had to remind myself that it was okay, it was fine, that
he probably saw things through a doctor’s point of view, very clinical.
“And then he grabbed my arms so tight I couldn’t get away—probably where I got the
bruises on my upper arm from—and threw me down on the bed. He… kept his hand on my stomach so
that I didn’t have a chance to get up. He tied me to the bed posts—where the bruises and burns
on my wrist came from—and then he…”I had said this very straight forward, because I knew that
if I didn’t I would start to cry. I didn’t want to be weak. However saying the word, telling
the rest of the story… hearing the word aloud…rape. That would be too much. I could still
forget. Still convince myself it wasn’t true. After that word, all my hopes would be gone.
“Rebecca… you don’t have to say everything now. I can tell this is a lot for you… for
us to handle. Don’t rush yourself and don’t worry. You are safe. I will protect you. I will.”
It seemed that at the end he was telling himself just as much as he was telling me. Beside my
best attempts, a few tears ran down my cheeks. I looked away, into the horizon of the setting
sun, and finalized my destiny.
“He… he raped me three times, all with about an hour in between. I…I…”I couldn’t say
anymore. The truth was there, and it was my time to be judged. I sobbed a bit, but quietly. I
couldn’t look at Daniel. Then I felt his arms around me. I let myself be pulled into his
embrace, my head against his chest. He stroked my hair.
It would be okay.