Short Stories

Vulnerable

I awoke, feeling as though I was suffocated, oxygen continued to escape out of my frail body, as I felt a hard, masculine hand wrapped around my throat. My feet left the ground as I was lifted up by one hand. My shaky hands tried to pull the rough, wrinkled rope off me but it tightened only making it worse.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk...does it hurt?"  

I couldn't move, not with the grip that held onto me. A hot tear rolled down my salty stained cheeks, I felt my face heat up as the oxygen began to drain out of my lungs.

"Please..." I choked.

"Please?" He mimicked.

 "It's your fault." He deeply chuckled, sending a shiver inside of me.

"The little skank who took away my only source of life!" His grasp tightened and my eyesight was coated by clouds.

I was thrown onto the cold surface beneath me, wishing it would just suck me in so that I could escape the wrath which hadn't yet started.

I felt a hard kick on my stomach, I struggled to breathe and more hot tears pour down my cheeks. He sat on a chair before me as I remained still on the ground.

His face was wrinkled and rough as he poisoned himself with the alcohol he kept in his crumpled hands.

 His round bagged grey eyes stared down at me and forced a smile that could kill you at the very sight. It scared me. I knew what was coming. He grabbed the long and hard leather whip that laid beside him. I crawled back knowing it won't lead me anywhere but to a corner. He walked closer and closer, my body started to tremble and my breathing began to go rapid. I heard my heartbeat in my head.

The beast lifted up the dark, long strip which now restEd in his rutted hand only taking a second before he threw it in the air, back down making contact with my skeletal back.

I am slapped back to reality.

"Not real...not real." I whisper to myself.

But I go through this torture almost everyday it feels as though it takes place everywhere. I take in deep breaths to calm down. My frail body shudders, cold sweat slides down my thin neck and I cover myself with the duvet...my only source of warmth and hidden guard.

The door slams, a loud drunken voice erupts, and it sounds as though it's a wounded banshee. I cover my ears to take away the ringing that erupts in my ears.

Father.

The truculent beast who bought fear inside of me at the very sound of his heavy footsteps. He is callous. No remorse. No heart. His love was pain. Seeing me in agony. That was his entertainment, the only way he managed to cajole himself. He didn't feel any regret when the whip was thrown against my skin, leaving a red, blooded mark. A brusque Neanderthal would only laugh at my thin feminine self.

Is this what you would call a man?

Is this how men are respected?

Is this why so many innocents are kept hidden away?

It flatters me how much it can mean to a 'man' who enjoys seeing despair and here I am left incapable of doing anything about it.

What a weak, lethargic, petite git I am.

If this is what young girls like me go through, still in this day and age then I hate this corrupt society and the cruelness that it holds within.

 Men are valued for showing power and control. What kind of power is being shown if they are allowed to misuse us like objects?

"Choose wisely." I recall. That voice that lingers through my head only gives me more heartache. Remembering the one who sacrificed herself leaving me alone to suffer. Her hazel eyes, brown, wavy hair, the pretty feminine rose. She was like a star that shined so bright you would fall. The one who gave all a reason to live.

But she brought hope.

As a result, she was tortured until she took in her last breath. But that was because of me. I pushed her too far. That's why father blames me and that's why he vents it out on me. So I ask myself...is he really to blame or am I the cause?

I am the cause.

I hear the sounds of his stomps come nearer; I freeze unable to think of the present and try to think of something else before the trauma comes back, before it sucks me right through and forces me to face grief over and over until satisfied.

The room closes in and the frame of my once happy family stares down at me. The remembrance of my loved one brings back the once happy family I had. The smiles fade and changes to loathe. Their eyes change to hatred as though it were my fault. The beautiful shine the pretty feminine rose held, holding me tight with warmth in her arms.

 Knowing that no one can help me. I begin to sink into the depths of my shield before it can arrive. My vision blurs with the tears that form and escape staining my cheeks.

Terror rises, fear builds, I shiver but remain tranquil.

I cannot hope.

I cannot dream.

I cannot love.

I cannot believe.

It will only lead to misery, melancholy and despair.

My anxiety builds and again I unable to control my breathing. I feel my face heating up and hear my heart in my head, it aches.

I am machinelike. I am controlled and left isolated suffer. I am inaccessible; no one can fix me now. I am immobilised, left in the corner to build with dust and grime.

 Left alone and it will only lead to destruction.

But I am left with no choice.

 I will be tortured until I breathe in my last breath.

That's how it is and that's how it must be...

This was my short story assessment 1000 words... hope you guys enjoyed. If you read my story Mine you'll notice that this story has some of this in but not exactly the same.

Skyler