Emotions

I was only ten years old when I was raped. I had easily decided that my life was not worth living, but I figured that if God didn't like me this much he would put me through this hell on earth, he would probably make the afterlife even worse for me. I didn't want to be in the same level of hell as my mother would surely be in. I resolved that I would damn myself by suicide. I will wait for death.

 

 

I had woken up on the floor completely naked. I didn't understand why the hell I was naked. I remembered lying on my bed staring at a glass of water the night before, but everything else was blank.

Had my mother hit me and I passed out? Or possibly I had slept walked and taken off my clothes... that could've happened.

I hadn't tried to move while these thoughts raced through my mind, but instead laid on the floor and felt the chill of the hardwood boards caress my cheek. My cheek felt oddly swollen and tender. I made the mistake of trying to sit up after that, and the immediate pain that launched through my body like a train made me lean to the side and hurl. I saw purple bruises against my skin and examined my body. The tiny, round bruises were traveling up my arms and against my stomach and thighs. I screamed as loud as I could, but nothing came in response. What had I been expecting? A mother that would have came running to me the moment I had screamed? No, of course I didn't.

 

I crawled to my bed and the weak power of my arms had taken their time getting me to stand up. I felt sick from the smell that my room was illuminating and all of my insides were hurting. I tumbled back to the floor and started to cry. I had been doing that a lot lately. Crying was never one of my strong points, but I couldn't deny that I was crying more often than usual.

I lifted myself in a hunched position and walked to my mother's room. I didn't know what was wrong with me or why I was hurting so much in specific places. I walked into my mother's room and watched as she slept with no clothes on and bedding tangled against her face. I saw every part of my mother, including the blood that was covering her mattress.

 

I was in shock while staring at my mother's blood. Her legs were covered in blood, even though I couldn't see any visible signs of wounds. I had a thought about me being naked when I had woken up, and I took a glance down at my legs to check for anything. What I saw was like nothing I had ever seen. My entire lower waist was drenched in dried blood.

 

I felt a warm liquid rising in my throat and I quickly ran into the bathroom. I leaned against the yellow toliet and puked.

I walked back to my mother and tapped her on a shoulder. I made sure that I stepped away before she tried to swing at me, but her response was a drawn out groan. I reached down to her and pulled away the blanket from her strangled face.

I was having a hard time judging whether that was my real mother or not. No, the woman that was lying on the bed couldn't have been my mother. This woman was beaten and bruised. This woman was bloody and blue. My mother had never looked that way before. She was always the strongest and always the bravest. She could pick up a truck if she wanted to; I knew she could do anything. The woman that was lying on my mother's bed couldn't have been my mother.

This woman was weak and lost. I didn't like this women. She looked innocent and confused, but at the same time she looked wise and sad. Where had my real mother gone?

 

I touched the woman once again to get a reaction, and with another groan the woman opened the only eye that wasn't black and I watched the pain radiating behind her broken disguise of strength. That was my mother. That was my mother when her mask was broken and worn away. That battered woman was the mother that doesn't hit her only child, but instead she loves her and gives her the affection a child needs. That was the woman who could pick up a truck.

 

 

I heard a gasp for air and a voice as light as a whisper come from my mother's throat, "Belle..." was all I heard. Her gaze on my face was not evil, but gentle. I didn't understand what motives she could have had by being gentle to me. I didn't want to find out.

 My only reaction to her calmness was silence. I didn't know what emotions I was supposed to have, so I chose nothing. I didn't have emotion when my mother tried to touch my face. Not hit, but rather touch. When her hand raised towards my face I took a quick step backwards and felt my my eyes flinch without command.

 

Her gaze didn't faulter, but her hand did fall back to her sides. She winced when she made an attempt at adjusting her position. I understould her pain. My legs were wobbling against each other while I was standing, but I wasn't going to get near her again. She was in obvious pain, and if she was in pain, she would make sure that I was too.

 

 

"Belle, come." I took a step toward her without any time to regret the action.

 

She pulled me by the arm and was placed leaning on the bed, face-to-face with her. Her breath was rancid, and her strength was obviously back from the moments before when I had actually almost felt sorry for her. She breathed against my face and whispered, "You tell no one what has happened here today." I quickly nodded my head and felt the release of my arm.

I stepped back from my mother and stared as I watched her wince and moan while trying to get up. I saw her completely nude, but the slash marks against her stomach and back were dominant against her paled skin. I showed no emotion.

Author's Note

Yeah, I totally know what your talking about Ashley. I wrote most of this late at night so I was tired, and I just wasn't careful ;) I'm going through and taking out the repetitive stuff. I didn't have time to read through it so I just kind of skimmed it last night and I still noticed all of the drawn out sentences.

Reviews

[ashley]

This is so good! I really like this a lot! One thing: you're drawing things out just a little too far. Like a sentence too long on each thought. The first paragraph, for example:
"I was only ten years old when I was raped. I had only been on this planet for a decade before I was sexually violated and defiled."
You really only need that first sentence, the second one is redundent. Just go through this chapter and look at all the ideas you repeat. I think if you delete the excess, you'll have a much stronger chapter. I really didn't see anything else wrong, this is a fantastic chapter. Great job!! :D

[Kenny L. Mitchell]

It's a work in progress so I won't judge you harshly. Having said that...I see GREAT potential in this write!

[Elizabeth]

Wow. The harshness with which you started this drew my attention immediately. It's unimaginable what parents can do to their children. When the nightmare of this girl's life became so hopeless, I can understand why she wouldn't feel anything at all. Trauma tends to do that; I became emotionless too from all of the violence in my home life. You write with a lot of power and it's truly captivating. Although this is a work of fiction, the story is too true. Great piece

[Livana Lowell]

There's a few typos such as "women" to "woman" I saw that a lot is why I'm pointing it out.

I had inferred this would happen and at first I didn't even want to read this. I feel strongly for Belle and the situation makes me squirm in my seat, which is a good thing on your behalf because I believe that's the emotion that someone is to get from reading something like this. The mask imagrey added depth to Belle's feelings between her mother.

The connection between a daughter and a mother is so dear and often betrayed because the mother realizes that the daughter has absolutely nowhere to go, no where to turn and plays upon that fact. I think you demonstrated that well in the previous and now chapter.

I don't know what else to say to be honest.

[Coyote Poetry]

The chapter is sad in a strange way. I know people can harden even at a young age.
Belle react with a calmness and movement of someone who lived in misery too long and had accepted it. You create a very good chapter connecting the other chapters. The chapter was powerful. You create a vision of baby girl living in a nightmare. A very good chapter.
Coyote

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

This story was horrific. I honestly dont think a scene of what happened in all of its graphic nature could have been more disturbing than seeing the aftermath of the innocence that has been lost. I think that you did a wonderful job of directing here. You chose the most relevant details to carry an emotional impact in a way that shock value that crosses the line just can not do . This chapter was hard for me to read, but a wise man once said that "We can not change a thing...unless we accept it." I did accept your words and they are a cry for help. We all say we want children to be safe, but we want to do it from the confines of your happy lifestyles. You have broken this barrier and put us into the shoes of a victim..in a politically incorrect way. Although, I am seriously disappointed for a child to be in this position, you have done what is necessary to eliminate token compassion. It IS necessary for us to feel disturbed by things like this. This scene was brutal, but even though I hate the situation...you have written with an incredible sense of empathy. You've used your talents as a writer to the best of your ability and you have developed a few new talents as well here. Your growth and potential that was met in this chapter deserves the highest marks available.

[A.Lee]

This is an excellent write. It takes a lot to wrap all of the emotion that comes with incidents like this and put them into a readable story. You did a great job. Looking forward to hearing more from you.

[Tina Kline]

What a nightmare!