Breaking the Rain
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,194
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,194
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.
Thunderstorms
Title: Breaking The Rain
Chapter: 3 Thunderstorms
Warning: Memories of Rape
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fiction, no truth implied.
********************************
The food was delicious. As she stood in the shower, warm water beating upon her back, she attempted to remember the last time she had ate that much. When you beg on the street, your pickings are slim, and no where near as yummy as that.
Pouring the shampoo into her thin hand, She felt the shiver slide up her back. Lathering her hair, she begin to hum. Anything to stop it from coming now, anything, as the bubbles ran and the hot water rinsed her hair, just to have conditioner dumped onto it. She shook her head slowly, whispering the words of a poem she heard once before. A while ago..
"Come the break of day, I'll wonder
Where you are, am I in your thoughts?
When tomorrow comes, I will be miles away,
Off to start a new life without you.
But you will be in my thoughts and only you
Will hold my heart forever.
Last words said bring tears to my eyes,
Knowing that I was leaving the next day.
Was it wrong of me to just up and leave
And not say a word to you?
The words spoken yesterday tell me that
it will all be okay,
That you won't miss me at all.
But still I wonder if it was wrong of me
To know I was leaving and not tell you.
Not even a word of how I felt.
But with the break of day, it will be
too late to say what tomorrow brings." **
But the words didn't shake away the memories, the pain. She felt the bottle slipping from her hand right before the darkness came once more.
*******Flashback/rape(from her point of view)********
"WHY? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A WHORE?" The voice bellowed through my mind. It didn't matter how hard I struggled, his grip just became tighter.
"Please. You know I am not, just let me go. Please.." A mere whisper. I knew he was drunk, he always did this when he was drunk. A few hits, pushes and shoves and he would leave me alone.
"Slut. A WORTHLESS SLUT!" Then came the first blow, harder then usual, right across my face, knocking me backward, stumbling through the doorway leading to the bathroom. "You hear me, Leigh? You're a damned whore! Everyone else's whore, but not mine. WHY NOT MINE?"
I glanced up right as his hands reached my body, trailing up my stomach slowly, over my ribs and to my breasts. I jerked back, falling over a towel in the floor and slamming my head onto the window seal. "Please. please just leave me alone," sobbed words. I'm so pathetic when I'm scared.
.
"You shall be my whore too, Leigh. You mother, that little skank, she's off with her boyfriend, you know. She won't put out anymore. One of you might as well. You're just like her, a fucking whore. I'm glad you're not my child. I'd kill you. You and her both." His hot, sweaty breath was brushing my face, my eyes shut. This wasn't happening. He did not have a hand up my skirt, sliding into my panties. For goodness sake, I am only 16. Sixteen. Someone stop him. But no one is home. My mom isn't home. "Put your hands on the back of the toilet, Leigh. My little skank."
I shoved against him, fighting him, pounding his chest with all I have, but nothing happens. He spun me around, slamming my head into the wall, the pain overtaking the pounding. I hear his zipper, the unmistakable sound of pants hitting the ground. His hands gripping my butt tightly, spreading me. No, anything but this.
And then the pain. Pain so horrible that I saw stars. You know in cartoons they see stars. You can in real life too. Stars covered everything. My whole body reeled from the pain, the flesh tearing. I could feel my skin moving inside of me, the blood dripping down my leg. I know I'm screaming, crying, begging him to stop, but my ears can't pick up the sound. Only his grunts, his balls slapping my body and the pain. This isn't real. This can't be. I'm only sixteen...
*****End Flasback******
****************Author's notes once more****************
The poem she was speaking to herself is one that i wrote a few years ago. It is copyrighted through poetry.com and myself.
Chapter: 3 Thunderstorms
Warning: Memories of Rape
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fiction, no truth implied.
********************************
The food was delicious. As she stood in the shower, warm water beating upon her back, she attempted to remember the last time she had ate that much. When you beg on the street, your pickings are slim, and no where near as yummy as that.
Pouring the shampoo into her thin hand, She felt the shiver slide up her back. Lathering her hair, she begin to hum. Anything to stop it from coming now, anything, as the bubbles ran and the hot water rinsed her hair, just to have conditioner dumped onto it. She shook her head slowly, whispering the words of a poem she heard once before. A while ago..
"Come the break of day, I'll wonder
Where you are, am I in your thoughts?
When tomorrow comes, I will be miles away,
Off to start a new life without you.
But you will be in my thoughts and only you
Will hold my heart forever.
Last words said bring tears to my eyes,
Knowing that I was leaving the next day.
Was it wrong of me to just up and leave
And not say a word to you?
The words spoken yesterday tell me that
it will all be okay,
That you won't miss me at all.
But still I wonder if it was wrong of me
To know I was leaving and not tell you.
Not even a word of how I felt.
But with the break of day, it will be
too late to say what tomorrow brings." **
But the words didn't shake away the memories, the pain. She felt the bottle slipping from her hand right before the darkness came once more.
*******Flashback/rape(from her point of view)********
"WHY? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A WHORE?" The voice bellowed through my mind. It didn't matter how hard I struggled, his grip just became tighter.
"Please. You know I am not, just let me go. Please.." A mere whisper. I knew he was drunk, he always did this when he was drunk. A few hits, pushes and shoves and he would leave me alone.
"Slut. A WORTHLESS SLUT!" Then came the first blow, harder then usual, right across my face, knocking me backward, stumbling through the doorway leading to the bathroom. "You hear me, Leigh? You're a damned whore! Everyone else's whore, but not mine. WHY NOT MINE?"
I glanced up right as his hands reached my body, trailing up my stomach slowly, over my ribs and to my breasts. I jerked back, falling over a towel in the floor and slamming my head onto the window seal. "Please. please just leave me alone," sobbed words. I'm so pathetic when I'm scared.
.
"You shall be my whore too, Leigh. You mother, that little skank, she's off with her boyfriend, you know. She won't put out anymore. One of you might as well. You're just like her, a fucking whore. I'm glad you're not my child. I'd kill you. You and her both." His hot, sweaty breath was brushing my face, my eyes shut. This wasn't happening. He did not have a hand up my skirt, sliding into my panties. For goodness sake, I am only 16. Sixteen. Someone stop him. But no one is home. My mom isn't home. "Put your hands on the back of the toilet, Leigh. My little skank."
I shoved against him, fighting him, pounding his chest with all I have, but nothing happens. He spun me around, slamming my head into the wall, the pain overtaking the pounding. I hear his zipper, the unmistakable sound of pants hitting the ground. His hands gripping my butt tightly, spreading me. No, anything but this.
And then the pain. Pain so horrible that I saw stars. You know in cartoons they see stars. You can in real life too. Stars covered everything. My whole body reeled from the pain, the flesh tearing. I could feel my skin moving inside of me, the blood dripping down my leg. I know I'm screaming, crying, begging him to stop, but my ears can't pick up the sound. Only his grunts, his balls slapping my body and the pain. This isn't real. This can't be. I'm only sixteen...
*****End Flasback******
****************Author's notes once more****************
The poem she was speaking to herself is one that i wrote a few years ago. It is copyrighted through poetry.com and myself.