Hillary_Flesh and Blood (10 page)

Yes, Hillary is a filthy liar...of course it
’
s absurd! Of course I believe you...yes, yes, you
’
re right, there
’
s something really wrong with Hillary for her to say such a thing....

Kathy hoped that she wou
l
d be asleep before Michael arrived home. She didn
’
t know if she had the strength to face him. She was shaking uncontrollably and had an overwhelming urge to throw up. Her conscience nagged at her to
do what she knew she should do…
what any reasonable mother would do. Yet, she wasn
’
t reasonable, she was a weak soul. Added to the nausea was the intense pain from her clenched stomach and bowels as her heart battled her encumbered soul. Her heart didn
’
t have a chance. Running to the bathroom, her mind was made up, and she knew one other thing without a single doubt: she hated herself.

Rebuked, Hillary stared into emptiness wondering how her life just managed to go from bad to
worse. She had stopped crying. S
he just felt numb. She didn
’
t even care that her father would be storming into her room soon to do further damage to her body, mind and soul. She sat there in the darkness, empty and broken, only scarcely aware of the moment that her heart had hardened and turned
black
.

~3~

For months following her rejected revelation, Hillary seemed to transform into a quiet, sullen version of her former self. She resumed school but no longer participated in any extracurricular activities. She completed her homework assignments and prepared for exams but did only the bare minimum to pass her classes. Her friends tried tirelessly to figure out what had caused her to become so withdrawn. At her father
’
s urging, she sometimes smiled just to appease them, made up excuses for her behavior, explanations for their taxing questions. Mostly she grunted monotonous short answers or shrugged them off altogether. Many of her former
“
best friends
”
had given up on her, offering little more than a wave as they passed each other by in the school halls.

Yet, she had a handful of die-hard friends who refused to give up so easily. They had no intention of abandoning a friend in such apparent need. Each time Hillary tried to persuade them to move on with their lives, they reassured her that they would always be there for her. Each time she tried to ignore them
they became even more persistent with their efforts. Her attempts to alienate herself were met with
unannounced and unwelcome
visits to her home
.
H
er insults only served to renew their resolve to help.

The former Hillary would have been moved by their loyalty and steadfast camaraderie. The tainted Hillary detested their good-willed tenacity. She cursed their efforts, their concern. Couldn
’
t they just mind their own business? Didn
’
t they have anything better to worry about? They were so intrusive, inviting themselves over to meddle in
her
affairs. They brought unw
anted
gifts...stuffed toys, bouquets of flowers, candi
es and treats...what was she, a
n infirm patient in a hospital? It aggravated her immensely. Yet, the more she protested, the harder her friends tried to
“
help.
”
Until she became physical....

Her
longtime friend Jacqueline, “
Jax,
”
showed up unexpectedly one night toting a DVD and a bagful of microwavable popcorn and movie theater candy. Hillary was outraged.

“
Just leave,
”
she said, clearly agitated.

“
Nope, we
’
re gonna watch this first...you
’
re gonna love it,
”
Jax said, waving the DVD in front of Hillary
’
s face.

“
I
’
m not kidding, Jax...you need to go,
”
Hillary warned. She could feel her anger elevating with each passing second.

Jax stood there, smiling, still waving the DVD in front of Hillary
’
s face, tauntingly.

“
Why doesn
’
t anyone hear me when I speak?
”
Hillary shouted loudly,
“
Am I speaking a foreign language? I said
no!
”

With a quick and mighty swipe of her hand, Hillary knocked the DVD out of Jax
’
s hand and onto the floor. In the process, her nail grazed Jax
’
s left cheek. Tiny beads of blood surfaced over the three-inch scratch on her face. Jax gasped as she palmed her face.

Hillary frowned. She didn
’
t mean to scratch Jax. She just wanted to be left alone. She opened her mouth to apologize but shut it and crossed her arms in front of her instead. She eyed Jax with an unfamiliar loathing.

Jax, growing increasingly uneasy in Hillary
’
s presence, said nothing. She was both shocked and hurt, believing that Hillary purposefully scratched her. She bent forward, picked up the DVD and walked out of Hillary
’
s room.

Hillary knew deep down that she should be upset, that she should follow Jax and apologize for her outburst and inadvertent violence. Yet, that spot deep down, the spot where her conscience used to dwell, was
nearly
a dark void
now
.

Instead, Hillary smiled. I
t was a tiny victory for her, a small accomplishment in her mission for solitude.
It was a fleeting smile. S
he didn
’
t feel like smiling...why should she? She wasn
’
t happy. She was numb to everything around her, going through the motions of life...waking, eating, going to school, returning, eating and sleeping. Except on those nights when her sleep was interrupted by her father
’
s perverse visits to her bed.

Mr. Greyson would scold Hillary for not participating in his sick romps.

“
Don
’
t just lie there,
”
he
’
d whisper angrily,
“
you know you like it.
”

Hillary would ignore him until, in frustration, he
’
d become rough. He
’
d thrust himself deep within her until she cried out in pain. Or he
’
d grab the inside of her thigh and squeeze until she moved in sync with his rhythm. Or he
’
d pull her hair until some sort of sound escaped her lips. Hillary
’
s cries, moans and whimpers of pain excited Mr. Greyson. To him, they were pleasurable sounds coming from his daughter...she was begging for more.

Hillary
’
s hatred toward her father festered uncontrollably into a malignant venom that tainted her self-esteem. She hated herself nearly as much as she hated the man who abused her. She felt small and weak and worthless. Several times she had thought about killing herself. It seemed like the only way to end the nightmare. She had also thought about running away, but she had no money, where would she go? What would she do? She knew how runaways often ended up
—
addicted to drugs, turning to prostitution. She didn
’
t want to go from a bad situation to a worse one.

Once, Hillary even thought about calling the police. Surely they would listen to her, unlike her own mother. They would intervene and help her. Yet, what would they do? Remove her from the home? Arrest her father? Her family needed his income to survive. Her mother worked at the library and brought home enough to pay for the monthly groceries and little more. Plus, her brother Joshua worshipped their father. He was
nearly
three years old
now
. He needed a father-figure, didn
’
t he?

Hillary often wondered whether her fat
her had ever touched her sister
Caleigh. Hillary was thirteen when the abuse started happening and Caleigh
had just turned
thirteen
a few
months
back
. She was just as developed as
Hillary
and nearly as pretty. Yet, Caleigh seemed way too happ
y to be going through anything
so traumatic. She was the editor of the school newspaper and part of the debate team. She had just joined the soccer team and loved it. She had man
a
ged to climb the ranks of popularity and had accrued more friends than Hillary had at her age. There was no chance that she was being molested...yet.

Hillary used to feel protective toward her sister, always watching for the signs, listening closely for noises in the night coming from her room across the hall. Then, as Hillary
’
s heart blackened, her concern for her sister dwindled until one day she realized that she hated her sister just as much as she hated her father...just as much as she hated her mother...just as much as
she hated herself. Her sister,
with her perfect, happy life. Why did she get to go on being a fun-loving, carefree teenager when Hillary had to suffer? Maybe if their father would rape her too, Hillary wouldn
’
t have to take care of his sick needs so often. Why couldn
’
t she share the burden? Hillary found herself wishing that her father would move on to her sister and finally leave her alone. One night she had even suggested it to her father.

“
Can
’
t you leave me alone tonight?
”
she complained,
“
Why
don
’
t you go and bother Caleigh?
”

“
What?
”
her father asked, appalled.

“
She
’
s old enough now isn
’
t she?
”

“
How could you say that about your sister?
”
her father asked, clearly disgusted by the thought.

“
Well why not?
”
Hillary persisted,
“
she
’
s
just
as
old as
I was when you first
—”

“
Shut up!
”
he commanded in a hushed but firm tone.
“
I don
’
t ever want to hear you say anything like that again.
”

“
Why not? Is she too perfect? Too sweet? Too
—”

Hillary didn
’
t see the slap coming. She felt the sting across her face even before she even noticed his hand move. She shut her mouth but did not cower. She glared at him, her eyes gorged with hatred.

“
Now take your clothes off,
”
Michael said sternly,
“
you
’
ve wasted enough time.
”

One day
I
’
ll
hurt
you
,
Hillary thought angrily. Her fists were clenched. She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.

“
Hurry up!
”
Michael urged impatiently. Hillary was dampening his mood and he had no intention of leaving her room unsatisfied.

Holding her venomous gaze as long as she could, she began disrobing.

As their bodies joined, she reached the limits of her hatred and she knew
somehow that
this was the last time her father would rape her.

You know what you have to do....

What does he want me to do?
Hillary thought furiously.

She waited for her father to repeat himself, but he was too busy grunting and grinding.

It has to be done....

Hillary watched the beads of sweat forming along her father
’
s furrowed brow then lowered her eyes to his mouth, hanging agape. He was ready to explode. As was his routine, he abruptly pulled out of Hillary, positioned his gushing penis between Hillary
’
s breasts and massaged himself while he emptied his drippings upon her. He strained to muffle his outcry.

Hillary could feel the muculent slime ooze down her chest toward her abdomen.

You can do it....

“
What?
”
Hillary asked, annoyed.

Recovering from his orgasmic exhilaration, Michael looked quizzically down at Hillary.

“
What did you say?
”
he panted.

“
Nothing,
”
Hillary said glumly. She just wanted her father to leave her bed and her room so that she could clean up and get some sleep.

“
Next time you
’
d better get into it, you
’
re worse than your mother,
”
he snapped.

There won
’
t be a next time....

Hillary flinched. It wasn
’
t her father talking. Then who
was it
?

She stared off in a daze, barely noticing Michael leave her room. She felt dizzy. By now she wou
l
d have the gooey mess cleaned off of her. Instead, she lay motionless on her bed staring up at the ceiling, waiting to hear the voice again. She didn
’
t have to wait long.

Make him suffer,
it said,
he made you suffer...it
’
s his turn now....