Genevieve Anderson, the girl that had been left behind and forgotten.
In a town where everybody knows everybody, meaning that no one goes unnoticed. Nobody just grabs a bag and leaves in the middle of the night, without someone seeing something. No...
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Chapter Thirty Four - 2 years ago
"How could someone that I had begged to love me, do something so cruel? He was supposed to be my father. He had forced the courts to give me to him, while my brother took the rest of them. Yes, I saw the court papers from years ago. My father fought for me, against my own brother, just to ruin every single birthday I ever had"
My 15th birthday, had just been ruined by my father. This wasn't unusual. Laying beneath him, as his belt buckle came undone and he pounded into me. None of this was different, only that he entered me this time, instead of letting it sit there. He took the one thing that I thought I had, and let it sit there, on my 15th birthday.
He told me, for the first time, that he was proud of me. That I was worthy of this. I knew I wasn't. I knew that no daughter had to give her first time to her father. I knew the blood on the floors was the evidence of that, as my father laughed at me, threw his empty beer bottle at me, which had been the start of it all, as I just lay there, paralyzed.
I didn't want to move. I felt numb. My fingers, my toes, my body was not mine. It was someone else, laying here, as I watched from above, hoping that I never had to go through that ever again. Hoping that I wasn't scrambling for some form of dignity left in me, but there was none left. There was nothing there to start with, but my father had still taken it.
He had gone searching for it, and found what he needed tonight. All the other women he had fucked, wasn't enough for him. I had been enough for him. I had pushed him over the edge, as he slammed his door, continuing to laugh at what he had just done. To his only daughter, when all else he had, was sons.
Sons that had run away from him because of this. Because of what he did to people like me. The vulnerable people that he threw around, getting what he needed from them, before he left them on the floor, trying to pick up the pieces. I wasn't sure how I would be able to, but I gathered my jeans from underneath me, and then sat myself up.
The room spun around me, but that didn't stop me. My father could come out of that bedroom, and be ready for round 3 or 4. Yeah, he hadn't let it be once, but twice. He told me in that moment, that he doesn't do anything half assed. Making sure the coast was clear, I ducked into my bedroom, making sure it was locked.
I pushed my desk up against it, but that wasn't enough. Nothing was enough to protect me, even being in my own house didn't stop the predator from being locked inside with me. Nothing was enough to protect myself. I cried, as I slumped to the ground, keeping my sobs smothered by my hand, as I crawled under my bed.
My father had ripped me from my bed tonight, so I didn't trust it. I felt safer, as I was huddled under my bed, clinging to whatever dignity I had left, which felt like nothing. I had nothing left to give my father. Nothing. There was nothing else he could take from me, than my life altogether. I reached for a pair of pants I had stored under my bed for whatever reason, and slipped them on, feeling warmer already.
