Family Ties

Chapter Three

TW; There's some dark content in this chapter, and I'd very much advise against reading this if you aren't feeling too great and don't want to feel worse.

She hesitated, a certain look of smugness reflecting in her eyes as she smirked wider. She turned her body to face mine, taking my hands into her own.

"Well," she chuckled dryly as she continued; "You love your family, don't you, Lemon?"

I already knew where she was going with this, and I glanced towards the stairs, hoping very strongly that Soda couldn't hear us from his room. After a short period of silence where I tried to think of a reply that'd get me out of this situation, she spoke again, in a flirtier tone.

"And, you've already said you think that you're old enough. How would you feel about having another more.. adult experience?"

She pulled me closer to herself, pressing our bodies against each other lightly. I swallowed hard, shaking my head and stepping back. I did my best to keep a smile on my face, though I was still very clearly uncomfortable with everything.

"Mom, I have work soon. And.." My smile faltered as I looked back toward the staircase with a worried expression. "..what about So-"

She pushed herself back against me, and I couldn't leave as I'd (literally) backed myself into a corner of the kitchen. She had her index finger pressed against my lips as she ran her other hand down my body.

"Shh, sweetheart, you don't have to worry about him right now. Not him, or anyone else. It's just you and me at the moment. Look at me." Her voice was sultry and uncomfortably close to my ear where she had stood up on her tiptoes and pulled me down some.

Well, my mother couldn't have been any more incorrect. I always have to worry about Soda. He's the entire reason why I'm still alive, anyway. He's my whole purpose. And at this moment, he's right upstairs. How could she expect me to just stop worrying about him? All so I could entertain her? And, what about her husband-- my father? If he ever found out about any of this, he'd have me hung and skinned. I'm certain he thinks that I'd make quite a lovely car seat cover or something. Yeah, no thanks.

I pulled her hand off of my mouth softly, along with the hand she had so very kindly helping me with taking off my belt. I'm not very interested in continuing my role as a literal motherfucker, thank you very much. "Could we please do this another time, mom? I'm tir-"

She quickly took the knife from where she had been chopping vegetables off from the counter and pressed the blade against the skin of my throat. She must have sharpened it before she used it to cook; because even just from that gentle touch I could feel a small drip of warm blood running down my neck. She had her free hand continuing to take off my belt, and when she finally had, she just tossed it aside onto the kitchen tile. As if having to retrieve it from the floor after she had her fun with me wouldn't be the degrading cherry on top of this whole situation. The knife was enough to get me to finally be quiet as she continued.

"If you're really that worried about your brother catching us, why don't we go to the basement?"

I felt nauseous. Like I was seasick. I hated that basement. But, clearly, I didn't hate it as much as I could've, as I would much rather go suffer down there in the dark than risk Soda hearing us. I mustered a shaky, quiet; "Okay.", trying to keep my throat from pressing against the blade any more than it already was.

She smiled, satisfied with that answer, and she proceeded to grab my hand and drag me over to the door that went down to the basement. She opened it and continued to lovingly shove me down the stairs. It must've been my lucky day, because I managed to catch my balance, using the help of the rail, and I started to walk down after, feeling even sicker than before as the realization started to catch up to me. The only thing keeping me from giving up here was the thought of Soda. All of this could be much, much, worse. I'd much rather it be me in this position than him. So, at least there's that. When I'd finally reached the end of the stairs, she spoke again.

"Go ahead and sit down, love!" The cheer in her voice made me feel like I was going to vomit.

I took a deep breath, deciding to at least try to convince her to let me go one more time. "Mom, plea-" As I turned to face her, my eyes widened when I realized that she was holding a baseball bat-- no, not just holding, swinging.

When I finally came to again, my head was pounding even worse than before, and I was horrendously dizzy. I was laid down in the basement, on my back, entirely naked besides the thin t-shirt I was wearing, ropes holding me from moving any, and a cloth tied as a gag in my mouth. I tried to scream as I got more panicked, but the gag served its purpose in keeping me quiet. My mom smiled, giggling as she positioned herself over me.

"You remind me so much of your father, sometimes."