Punks Not Dead

Only Women Bleed

•Maxi's POV - Flashback•

Summer of 1975

The evening had been a cool one, you could feel the chill of the gentle breeze in the air. Sid was gone on tour with Nancy and The Pistols, and they wouldn't be back until October. I had decided to stay home to continue my job, not that it was exactly what I wanted, but I needed to help my dad, who was barely scraping by. During the time that I didn't spend working, I hung out with Lilith. We mostly spent our time together wasted drunk or high on whatever drugs came our way. 

On this day, I had been at my father's apartment and I felt a little uneasy. My father was drunk, which was typical, but unlike his usual drunken self, he was miserable because today marked the three years that my mom had left us. As melancholic as it was, I found myself not really caring about my mother at all. She had been the one who to walk out on us, on Christmas of all days! She obviously did not want anything to do with me if she could just easily get up, walk away and leave me there. My drug problem only got worse after the day she ran off.

Now, since Sid has left with Nancy and The Pistols, I've been doing a lot better...

♠ ♠ ♠

I was just about to leave my father's place, when he called me into his bedroom. My heart began racing. My dad was very drunk by now, and although he was usually good at keeping his temper, I knew the liquor could quickly turn him into a raving mad man. I remember a time when I was a child, my father's drinking had become incessant, my mother would always be the victim of his drunken rage...It was horrible. On those nights, hidden in the depths of my closet with tears streaking down my cheeks, I wished it would just stop! My mind raced over theses thoughts as I made my way to him.

I finally got to my father's bedroom. He was sitting on the bed, his face expressionless as he watched the new T.V. he had bought just days prior to this. His favorite drink in hand, Wild Turkey, he motioned by patting the empty space beside him, for me to come join him. I went against my gut and decided to do what he demanded. As I was unaware of his current mood, in turn making me afraid of him getting violent. All I really wanted was to go back to my own apartment, safe and sound. My father put an arm around me and pulled me in closer. I shuddered slightly, the retched scent of old whiskey and stale cigarettes on his breath.

"Wot? Don' like cuddlin' with yer dear ol' dad anymore do ya? What happened? Ya too old fer that now?" He was very intoxicated by this point, and was slurring his words and jabbing me in the chest with one of his meaty fingers.

"Ya know, ya look like yer mother when she was yer age. She was quite the looker." he took another drink, and pulled me in even closer, if that was even possible, for I was basically sitting in his lap at this point.

Without warning, he pinned me to the bed with his whole weight and began kissing me furiously. I couldn't believe what was happening. I tried my best to keep my face away from his. It was almost impossible, and I just started to panic. I began to flail my legs and arms, in an attempt to shove him off of me. I let out a loud wail. "NO! Daddy, No!" He quickly slapped his bear-sized hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. Struggling beneath his weight was beginning to be more difficult. My father no longer cared what happened next. Like a wild man, he began tearing off my t-shirt, and my pants quickly removed as well. During my struggling attempts to get free, the only thing running through my mind was, "Why Daddy? Why...?" Tears pooled down my cheeks as he continued stripping me of my clothes.

I got the upper hand slightly for a moment, as he was busy unzipping his own trousers. I kicked him in the groin, and pushed away from him. My father, caught off guard, howled in pain, and I grabbed my clothes quickly. I knew I didn't have much time before he was up again. I ran out of the room, and into the kitchen. Unfortunately for me, there were many locks on the door. While still panicking, unlocking them became a challenge, which resulted in my father grabbing me by the hair and throwing me across the room. My head smashing against the edge of the over. Fiery pain shot through my head and I reeled, trying to regain an upright position.

As I hadn't gotten dressed during my escape attempt, he now had full advantage over me. Without a shred of remorse, he thrust himself deep inside me. I cried out in pain. I tried my best to bite him as he clamped my mouth shut, but all I could do was cry as he thrust viciously into me. This wasn't supposed to happen. My own father wasn't supposed to rape me. "Who's Daddy's little girl?" He continued to repeat, chuckling softly, as he deflowered and defiled his own daughter.

Finally, whether it was an hour later or 10 minutes later, I did not know, but he finally came to a grunting halt. After another forceful kiss, He left me on the floor, bleeding and broken and walked out of the house without another word. I just laid there crying, unable to contain myself, unable to make sense of what had just happened. Hours later, I finally gained the courage to get up, get dressed and go to the hospital. When I was there, I told them I had been mugged and raped, for reasons unknown I protected him from what he had deserved. Suffering. Endless pain and suffering.