A little love goes a long way

2

Living it the attic did a number on Sophie's growing brain, as there were memories in the attic that her Parents most likely forgot about, and since Sophie wasn't allowed to ask questions, she learned to find the answers on her own. She vaguely remembered the times her family was a happy one, one not ruled by fear or pain or insecurity. Since she couldn't remember, she searched through boxes, oh so many boxes.

There were mouldy boxes, riddled with holes and tears - she left those for when her parents were out - boxes coated in cobwebs - they stayed right where they were - and there were boxes coated in so much dust that the dust is practically the box, fused together to become one mega-box. These were her favourites, containing memories of Nana Rose and Grandpa Brian mainly. Old paintings, pictures, dolls, dresses, suits - you name it, she kept what seemed the most sentimental, hid them securely in the rafters above her head, a few below her feet, just in case.

Once, she found an old album. Not ancient, maybe started when she was born - definitely started when she was born. The first picture labelled as 'Sophie's first steps,' a grinning Mother with outstretched arms, a baby Sophie with her arms haphazardly in the air, one chubby leg suspended in step, a Polaroid. There were hundreds of photos, the second half of Jake and Sophie, the third titled 'Joseph' with only an ultrasound residing in the blank, leering pages. She kept this album under her pillow, certain photo's on her person at all times.

Mornings were the same for the soon-to-be nine-year-old: Wake up at 6am, make Mother and Father's tea, bring it to them, set the table, make breakfast - mind, she had gotten better in the kitchen than she was at six years old - bathe, get changed, eat whatever is left from breakfast, feed Ludo, clean up plates and then wait for further instructions. Just like a good little robot. Jake normally saves a slice of toast and an egg for Sophie, as often as he can without being caught.

It was a month before her birthday, the day, she knew to stay in the attic and make no sound, unless she wanted to be screamed at, told that it was her fault she didn't have another brother, and not the fact her mother was older than average when she gave birth - Sophie knew to hold her tongue either way. During the day, sobbing could be heard through the whole house, stopping for a brief period of time when the door opened, only for the sobbing to get more intense as more people joined in. it was heartbreaking, and if her Mother wasn't who she was, then Sophie would have thought she deserved some sympathy.

Jake sneaked away during the sob session, he wished only to join his big sister and maybe look through the photo album again, he had no recollection of a time of happiness in the family, other than when he was with Grandpa Brian or Nana Rose or Sophie, his parents brought him no real joy, he was just a tool to hurt Sophie with, and even with his seven-year-old brain - he had only been seven for less than a month, mind you - he knew he hated being a tool, treated as something other than a son.

Well, his plan was to sneak away and see Sophie, yet he was interrupted by a large man, stature and width, standing in the bathroom doorway, next to the ladder to get to the attic, he couldn't risk getting Sophie hurt, that was his only concern, so he acted as though he was waiting to go to the bathroom, but the man did not enter, only stared at Jake.

Though their parents were not good people, generally speaking, they drilled the importance of stranger danger into the minds of their children, and Jake knew to trust the hairs on his neck and move away from the big man, who followed him, down the long corridor, and followed him into his room, the attic directly above, he came into the room, so Jake screamed, loud enough for Sophie to hear and stomp above his head, it scared the man off, and that was all Jake wanted.

The month following trickled in, day by day, they got longer and longer. Birthdays were nothing special for Sophie, maybe a bit more humanity from her Mother, a few more words from her Father, and secret visits from Grandpa and Nana, as her Parents left for a dinner with Jake, Sophie didn't mind, she always had Grandpa and Nana, a home-cooked meal, a cake and a small present. They knew nothing of the abuse, or if they did they said nothing, but that wasn't how they were.

This birthday was different. The meal was eaten, candles were blown out, Grandparents sent on their way before the Parents got back, all the usual, and yet this year there was a new visitor after Grandpa Brian and Nana Rose left. Half an hour before her Mother and Father normally returned, there was a soft knocking on the door, more of a rat-a-tat-tat with something that wasn't a knuckle. Opening the door cautiously, there stood a burly man, large in stature and girth - Sophie wouldn't know, but this was the same man Jake encountered the month before - in his left hand lay an umbrella, no rain, not even a cloud in the sky.

*First warning, this may be uncomfortable to read for some, skip to the underlined bold for the end*

He was dressed head to toe in a winter styled attire, scarf over the lower half of his face, gloves, thick boots, a woollen hat and a thick black coat - in the middle of summer might I add - he barged past her without a word, she assumed he was looking for her parents, so she headed upstairs to let him wait for their arrival.

She heard the door shut and then stairs creak behind her instead. She picked up her pace, he copied, Sophie felt trapped, and she knew she couldn't fight, she was naturally weak due to an insufficient diet, naturally thin build and even if she could fight, he was easily five times the size of her, and double the height, his eyes crinkled in a way Sophie didn't like so she ran, not getting very far before he gripped her arm and dragged her into a room - the bathroom - and shut the door, leaning against it to prevent her escape, there was nowhere to go, take three steps back and you hit the tub, four steps to the side you hit either the sink or the toilet, either way, his eyes crinkled again and laughed. To the present day, that laugh haunts her.

*Skip to the next bold if you feel like this may trigger/make you uncomfortable*

He shot his arm forward, keeping a vice-like grip on her shoulder, any harder and it might have shattered. She struggled against his other hand which was slowly lifting up her shirt, his hand moved from her shoulder to her mouth quickly as she started to scream, the other on her waist, she tried to bite him, but there was too much flesh, he just laughed that it tickled. Salty streams ran from her eyes to her chin, a snotty nose. He started pushing her to the toilet, putting the lid down and taking a seat, his hand still gripping her waist he pulled.

Falling limply, she barely caught herself, there was no point though, he moved his other hand to her worn leggings, tearing them down quite easily, he laughed victoriously as he unzipped something, Sophie shut her eyes so tightly she saw another dimension, of swirls and fun patterns, anywhere but there. She was sobbing, hiccoughing and shaking so badly she would have fallen if it hadn't have been for the disgusting man opening her legs and sitting her on his lap.

It hurt. So badly it hurt, she couldn't scream, he had put three fingers in her mouth; the sick bastard enjoyed her suffering, he tried to coax her to open her eyes, she wouldn't. She wanted to leave, to go somewhere else that really wasn't here, she was nine, he was well over nine, this wasn't right, she didn't know what it was exactly, but she hated it, more than she'd ever hated anything.

He moved, Sophie almost threw up it was so disgusting, he laughed again, and moved more and more, faster and faster until he stopped, it was warm, she hated it.

*it's over.*

He left abruptly, still laughing as he left, she heard zipping again, but Sophie just lay there, crying, half-naked on the bathroom floor, one thing circling around in her head consistently, it wouldn't leave her.

This was the worst birthday, ever.