TW SEXUAL ASSAULT
Marriage for a women was not for love, lust or anything in between. It was for political gain, a woman's job is to stand look pretty and give birth to healthy sons. They have no way to make money for themselves, even if there was a twist of fate where she was given hundreds for pounds the second she got married everything would belong to her husband.
Before marriage a girl should be taught all that is thought for a girl to know. The people that decide what a girl should know is decided by men, insecure men who will never allow anyone to be better than them, especially in their eyes the weaker sex.
All a mother should know is, how to cook, read, and sew everything else is a bonus. Belles education was rather different, her mother had insisted she was taught Spanish, french, Latin, mathematics, and of course to read and write. Her mother had hired her a tutor at the age of six, which meant now at the age of nineteen Belle was extremely intelligent.
Girls were also expected to stay virgins and pure until marriage. A proper girl would be pure, a whore would not there was no in between no exceptions, those were the rules. Belle had kept to those rules, but that did not mean she knew nothing about sex because that was simply not true. From the books she read she understood that she had a good idea of what happened, but still staying to the rules.
Currently Belle was sat underneath a large tree seeking shade from the sun. Above her sitting on a stable branch on the same tree was Lord Mathew Robertson, her friend they had known each other a long time he was the same age as her. Mathew was a poet, and a talented one, Belle was always amazed by her friends gift often he would read her his recent poem and she would sit and listen for hours as he explained them
"Is that a new dress?" He asked looking down at her.
"Not really I just don't wear it often." She says referencing her light pink dress she wore earlier, she had now added the matching gloves and hat to the set.
"Take off the hat." He asked, she immediately removed it from her head.
"Much better, I can see your hair now." He said referencing her wavy curls.
"I agree." She said back, not sure if she did agree but feeling the need to please him.
"I wrote a new poem the other morning." He said holding a piece of paper in his hands.
"Oh please read it to me." She said excitedly. He jumped down to the ground not being that high up, sitting next to her with his legs to his chest. Belle lied down head on the green grass and blonde hair spread across the ground, ready to relax and listen. He began to read.
"Oh my darling, how I love you. In my deepest thoughts you are more than just a friend. When we are alone I resist the temptation to touch you, how it ages me. In my dreams you love me in all the ways a woman should love a man. My beauty, my golden aura, when we are alone all I think about is you and me." Belle immediately became uncomfortable, sometimes Mathew would read a poem to her that was so clearly wrote about her. Sometimes it would be about her body or other things, she had told him countless times how uncomfortable it makes her but he never listened. I mean for fuck sake her name meant beauty in french.
He began looking at her in a way that made Belles skin crawl. He looked like her like an animal ready to pounce, she was frightened which happened so rarely. Because of the way Belle was lying he was above her looking down onto her.
"You really are beautiful Belle." He said not looking into her eyes but her chest, she did not speak but she did sit up hating the sense power he now had over her. But the second she was sat up right again he pushed her back down again, him going down as well so he was hovering above her body.
"Mathew please, stop." She said.
"Why won't you let me kiss you?" He said next, Belle had an awful feeling in her stomach. He leaned into her neck and started leaving soft kisses on her.
"Stop, please stop it." She said feeling tears in her eyes but pushing them away.
"Shhhh, it's alright you want this I know you do." He said trying to create a false sense of safety in this situation, trying to make him innocent. She tried to push him off of her but he just pushed her arms down being much stronger than her.
She couldn't let him do this to her, he always done this to her. He knows she doesn't want it, he knows she doesn't enjoy it, he knows her boundaries but continues to do it. Treating her like all she is, is just a body to fuck, an object. She hated him like this.
"Mathew!" She shouts using all her strength to pull away from him and stand up. He immediately jumps off her and stand as well.
"God Belle you are so stubborn." He groans.
"You can't do that to me Mathew!" She says strongly and confident. All her confidence is immediately defeated by a sharp and hot pain to her right cheek. He had slapped her.
"You can not talk to me like that!" He says furiously with rage in his eyes. She was terrified.
"You little bitch! Who do you think you are? I"ll tell you who you are, a useless little girl who denies love from the one person who cares for her! I am the only person who cares about you! Me all you have is me! God your mother would be disappointed in you. There you go crying! Grow up!" Belle was most definitely crying now, how could he do that? He knew her soft spots and insecurities. How could she let him?
Walking away from him she felt so powerless and weak. She hated him, she truly did. But no matter how many times he had done this in the past she would always forgive him.
"Fuck you Belle!" Was the last thing she heard before creating a far enough distance between the two.
She constantly wiped her tears not wanting anyone to tell she was crying, she never let anyone know. It was always her fault, god this was so embarrassing. Her speed picked up as she needed to go to her room, to let it all out as she had done so many times before.
Once she had reached her room she collapsed. On her knees in the centre of the room. She was hysterically crying now, struggling to breath from the amount of effort it was to push the tears out. The hot boiling tears that felt like a never ending flood.
Would her mother be disappointed in her? What could she of done to make him so mad? She must of put this on herself. Should her dress of ended at her toes and not ankles? Was the sight of her neck to much for him? Was just some of the questions racing through her brain, she always blamed herself.
hey guys,
sexual assault has always been a dangerous and life ruining threat throughout history, no matter what you wear it is NEVER your fault. for example when this is set women wore dresses down to their ankles and it was still happing and so often overlooked. you are not the problem it is them, if you are suffering from ptsd from a assault please seek help, there are some amazing clinics out there.
- the author <3
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