A story where a boy meets a girl. Where secrets and lies are always exposed and where the past comes out to play.
*****************************************
"Alexandra, were you just checking me out?"
"I'd much rather shit in my hands and clap."
****...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
If the man you loved most did the unthinkable, what would you do? What could you do?
In my case, I ran. Far, far away. I ran to the furthest little town away from home, leaving all my family behind. Not that they'd really care.
With the help of my grandmother's money that she left behind for me, I bought a two bedroom apartment, ready to start fresh.
To the residents of the town, I was nothing but a stranger that would realize the mistake she's made and run back home, begging for forgiveness from her family. What they didn't know was that nobody from back home cared. I hadn't been in school for the last five years so I didnt really have any friends. The only people who mattered to me was my brother Toby, my late grandmother and my daughter, Francesca.
I came from a broken home where Dad would bring home a new woman almost everyday. It became a routine. He'd go out and come back with a new lady who could spread her legs wider than the previous one. Mom had died when I was eleven. The police reports claim it was an ''accidental overdose''. There was nothing accidental about it. She died leaving behind her three children with a man who would beat us mercilessly. Basically, we were fucked.
So fucked that my abusive father welcomed a myriad of strange men into my room at night and do the most incomprehensibly disgusting things. Things a thirteen year old should never experience. Ever. One night, and I remember this as clear as day, the man that I seeked solace in, the one that vowed to protect me against the man I called dad, came into my room. Whispering comforting words in my ears, he begun undressing me. My father's bussiness partner and the man I looked up to as my parental figure was doing what all the others did. Am I just flesh used to entice and fulfill your deepest dirtiest desires?
My throat clogged up with tears and my eyes burned and prickled with the unshed tears. His fingers on my body felt like millions of tiny spiders crawling over my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck raised and my stomach dropped. I swear I remember asking him to stop, but I guess it was just a figment of my imagination because...he didn't. I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Down, down, down and never to be seen again. I was tainted. Scarred. I was just an empty shell of who I used to be.Just another victim who was too afraid to do anything to help herself. I was humiliated and ashamed into silence.
The pain I felt between my legs was nothing compared to the shattering of my heart. I would wonder if my older sister got the same treatment when she lived with us. Probably, which would explain why she was such a raging bitch. Always hated me. She would treat me like dirt and blame things on me so that I would get the beating and not her.
Two months. For two months, every Thurday and Saturday night, Anthony would come into my room and repeat his actions of the first night. Every night he'd come in bearing gifts. Mac books, chocolate, promise of international trips, concert tickets and alcohol. The alcohol was probably to drown my sorrows in, which is exactly what I used it for. None of these gifts would replace the void that I became. Numb to emotions.
Toby was only 11. He would lay himself in front of my door so that people couldn't get through. He was always protective of me even though I was older. What young, sweet little Toby didn't know was that you can't prevent the inevitable. He would fall asleep within the first 20 minutes of being posted outside my bedroom and Dad would just pick him up and put him in bed.
Three weeks had gone by and I began feeling increasingly ill. It started with flu-like symptoms, to nausea, then headaches and back pain. I began noticing a change in my body too. Weight gain and swollen breasts.
Turns out, I was pregnant. And Anthony was the father.
I would often watch the show Sixteen and Pregnant and find myself judging them because, how could you be so young and have a child? Well, here I was, even younger than the cast of the MTV show and expecting. Funny how the tables turn.
My father's immediate response to the news was to reject it all. How could he allow this to happen? Well Dad, thats what happens when you become a pimp to your thirteen year old daughter.
Dad took me out of school almost immediately, giving the principle some bullshit excuse, like, we were moving because the memories of mom were becoming too overwhelming for me. I couldn't care less.
We didn't move. Dad just enrolled me in an online school. Grandmother would help me prepare for the baby. Teaching how to hold the baby correctly, burping stratergies and what being a real mother would be like. In the time that I was pregnant my grandmother fell incredibly sick.
She was diagnosed with stage 4 Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. She didn't even make it to Francesca's birth. That's actually where Frankie got her name. I named her after my grandmother.
I wish she never had to go. She was my best friend. I guess all good things come to an end.
After Grandmother's sudden passing her will was read to the family. She left all of her money to Toby and I. Half for him and half for me. She also left behind a letter addressed to me. In it she apologised to me for raising a deadbeat such as my father and told me to leave as soon as I could. This cause uproar amongst my family members. Dad was probably the most pissed. But instead of throwing his fists against the wall, I would become his personal punching bag. Not that I wasn't already used to the abuse. I will never forget the desperation in Gradmother's letter though, telling me to ''run'' and ''go'' sooner rather than later.
And that's exactly what I did. On the 29th of July, two days after my birthday, I left with Francesca. Toby was the one who helped me pack without dad finding out our great scheme. I promised I'd go back for him, but he promised he'd be okay for now. After four painflly long bus rides, losing luggage and nourishing ourselves solely on gas station refreshments, we finally found our new home.
A quaint little sea-side town known Hellingtown.
What I didn't know was that a storm was brewing beyond the horizon.
