"Sorry sugar, I just cashed my last rain check." He didn't even give me time to wrap my mind around the prospect that he is actually doing before he flung himself into me, the force leaving me breathless. I screamed. The pain was unbearable. Each thrust felt like a knife penetrating my lower half and mauling everything that stood in it's way.
Tears soon began to flow out of my eyes at an alarming rate but I don't think that Gerard noticed. His eyes were shut tightly and his face was adorned in a look of such pleasure that evil contorted his features. In. Out. The movement of his hips increased pace and he buried himself deeper into me each time our bodies collided.
After I realised that he wasn't going to stop until he was done, I stopped screaming. The strain on my lungs became too much and it seemed to be doing more harm than good since he moaned deeply everytime I screamed. I could soon feel the blood pooling around my waist. That fucking maniac must have definitely punctured something.
"Fuck Frank, you feel so good. Take it. Take it like the whore you are. God... gah." I felt dirty. He was congratulating me in some fucked up way. I didn't want this, I never did, I just wanted someone to be there for me. His thrusts became more frantic and I was soon awakened from my attempt to escape into my own little world by Gerard exploding into me. I whimpered as he forcefully released me. He stood and tried to catch his breath. I closed my eyes, thrilled that the torture was over. Soon after, I felt a stinging sensation on my backside that shook me to my core. He slapped me so hard that I couldn't contain the fresh tears that erupted from my eyes and the blood that once again began to make it's way down my legs and onto my bed.
"Now, why couldn't we do that earlier? I sure as hell liked it, how 'bout you?" He leaned on one of the posts of my bed, grinning like a maniac.
"Fuck you." I managed to mumble, the sheer effort of talking left me breathless. His smile faltered a bit and he began to shake his head.
"Frankie, it's not nice to talk like that to your master." Gerard turned away from the disaster that was my bed and began to gather his clothes. He put them on painfully slow, making sure to catch my eye every time a garment was replaced onto his vile body. It was like he was putting on a show for me, letting me know that he could do this again anytime he felt like it. He turned to leave. If he left, I would have no means of escape. I was too exhausted to try to free the belt that was holding my arms above my head.
"Are you just gonna leave me like this then?" I asked incredulously, praying to anyone that was listening that the monster I used to love would suddenly grow a conscience and at least untie me. I quickly proved to myself that no one up there cared for me when he nodded and walked out of my bedroom, leaving me helpless.
The events of the past hour overwhelmed me and a bout of tears once again traced a path down my battered face.
I was awakened from my pain induced slumber by my drunk father kicking in my seemingly locked bedroom door. He stood in the doorway, swaying slightly with a empty bottle of Vodka in his hand.
"Why was the door locked? What the fuck happened to you, boy? One of your fucked up sex games gone wrong? It's fucking disgusting!" His eyes were bloodshot and his hair in disarray, the alcohol he consumed must've gone straight to his head. My father shook his head and grimanced, looking away from the war zone that I used to sleep on.
"Dad, please, help me." I began to cry once again, feeling embarassed that my father had to see me like this, almost ruined beyond recognition. He sneered at my pleading and stumbled his way to the side of my bed. He leaned over and began to stroke my tear-stained face.
"Fuck you kid. You probably deserved it." His grip on my face tightened and he forced me to look at him. "Seems like he didn't finish the job, eh? Allow me." I didn't know what he was talking about, but I soon understood, as his hand left my face and made it's way down my body, stroking my skin with a featherlight touch. I began to cry heavily. This couldn't be happening again. Not now.
"S...stop," I begged as I try to move away from his vulgar touch. His gaze snapped to my face and fire seemed to blaze in his cold, brown eyes.
"Shut up!" He brought his fist to my jaw with a suprisingly strong force for someone as intoxicated as he was. I got the message soon enough after that. 'Shut up and take it.' I feel like that is starting to become my motto, with all the men in my life ending up hurting me one way or another, often beyond repair. My father resumed groping me, feeling his way over the bruises and wounds Gerard had inflicted.
"He really did a number on you, didn't he? Was it the same guy as before? That Jared guy that lives next door?" I nodded meekly, not wanting to attract too much of his attention, hoping he'll soon get bored or pass out. He paused momentarily before he burst out laughing. He thinks my pain is funny? What a fucking surpirse.
"When you see him next time, tell him I congratulate him on his effort. Seems like he fucked you hard enough, but he didn't really beat you hard enough. That's how you're supposed to train your whores; so that they listen to you and do what they're told." What is he talking about? The man who is supposed to look after me, love me and protect me from harm wants me to be a whore? What the hell? I can't believe he would do something like that. I soon became jealous of my mom for dying. I felt like dying right now, to escape from all the fucked up things in my life. Suicide feels like the only way out. I can't handle it anymore. Fuck them all.
"You're supposed to be my father! You're going to hell, old man. I hope you fucking burn!" I spit in his face. I was amazed that I mustered the courage to lash out, all the while hoping he would put me out of my misery. My father froze and looked up at me, astonished.
"What did you just say to me?" His gaze fell to the empty bottle in his hand. He stared at it for a brief moment before looking back at me. "Congratulations son, you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to the afterlife." I scrunched up my face in confusion and I tried once again to struggle against my restraints, hoping that they would loosen up. No such luck. The sound of glass breaking brought my attention back to the situation at hand. My father now stood towering above me with a jagged piece of broken bottle in his hand. He smirked at the fear that poured out of me.
"Goodbye Frankie." He stabbed the sharp glass into my chest. Pain once again filled every pore in my body and my screams cut the air. Blood speckled the filthy sheets and my father's sinister laugh told me once more that he never loved me. No one did. At least he granted my wish. My breathing became laboured as my lungs began to collapse, the makeshift dagger doing more damage that I thought it would. My pulse became erratic as my heart tried desperately to pump blood around my broken body. My vision began to falter as my oxygen starved brain slowly began to shut down.
Everything went black.