Untitled #1

They say first-time writers usually write about incest. Check. They say writers should always write about what they know. Check.

Now that I re-read this, I feel sorta embarassed especially at some of the words I used, but then again I'm high and it doesn't matter. Originally written somewhere in September/October of 2002 over the course of one night. Couldn't sleep :p First posted in BF on the day it was finished. Minor edits (grammar/spelling) performed but this will never be re-written again, because it's my baby and I love it the way it is. Posted for posterity.

Untitled #1
The sky was turning pink, with orange and purple hues on the sides of the canvas. The sun, a deep reddish orb, had completed its course for the day; it was now sinking, signaling the imminent darkness.

Stumbling through the doorway, I scraped my arm on the metal bolt. It didn't hurt. I touched the abrasion, smearing the dark red liquid that had begun oozing out. I needed a shower; the blood in my mouth was kick-starting my gag reflex. I never could stand the rusty iron-like flavour of my blood. As I made my way to the bathroom, I wondered if all humans tasted the same. I didn't know; I've never tasted another person's blood before.

Walking into the dingy room where I had spent the last six months, I slowly picked my way to the small, claustrophobic bathroom. Dizziness assaulted me in waves. I would be walking just fine, when suddenly the floor seemed to come up to my face. The feeling of my chest tightening returned, reminding me of when he had his hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing the air out of me. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the sensation, the memory.

I looked into the grimy mirror, caked with dirt on the sides, and a face stared back at me. Ignoring the permanent dark rings under my eyes, I saw that my left eye was swollen, purpling into an ugly bruise. A trickle of blood snaked its way slowly down from my nostril. My lip was bleeding from where it came into contact with my teeth. There were cuts on my cheek. I blinked. My neck was black-and-blue. I opened my hands and gripped my own throat lightly, the marks matching, to some extent; my hands were not as big as his.

A single tear rolled from my eye down my cheek. Bolstering myself, I closed my eyes and fought the urge to cry. I had been crying for no particular reason lately. I focused on the sink instead, on turning the faucet. There were suddenly two rusted iron spouts, double images telling me my dizziness had returned. I closed my eyes to steady myself. Water was gushing out from the faucet. I scooped up the water and splashed it on my face, feeling a sting as sharp as razor blades as the water hit my open wounds. Looking up, I stared at the mirror again, diluted blood dripping off the angle of my face. Water, blood and tears.

I pressed a finger pad softly against the pulpy bruise around my nose. My brain had captured every nuance of his beefy arm, balled into an angry fist, as it came into contact with my flesh. I heard a crack, I felt a crack. I could still feel his scent on me, his sticky essence, his weight, his grunts echoing in my mind. It reminded me of a time I had buried deep in my subconscious. Gripped by a sudden panic, I ripped off all my clothes violently and clawed wildly at the shower knob. Bills fluttered from the pocket of my dress and settled on the cold tiles; I ignored them. The full force of the icy water hit my body and I screamed aloud, recoiling from the blast.

Steeling my nerves, I forced myself to stand under the torrent of ice-cold water as it cascaded down my body, cleansing me. Fingers quivering, I reached for the bar of mushy soap to scrub myself, ignoring the sears of pain as water and detergent met raw flesh. I had to scour the remains of his filth off my body.

Shivering, partly from the icy coldness, I remember a day almost two years ago, when I had tried to clean the blood and mud off my soiled body. My fingers were numb then, they were numb now. I closed my eyes, willing my mind to forget it, to forget everything, but the feeling overwhelmed me, leaving me helpless.

It had been a beautiful day. The sky looked like it was painted by an ethereal hand, a beautiful blue that I still can't describe, dotted by clouds of white and silver candyfloss. The heavens beckoned invitingly, and I wanted to soar amongst the billowy clouds. It was a childhood dream, to lose myself amongst the fluffy cotton-candy amidst the backdrop of a blue sky and just fly away.

A wreath of daisies adorned my hair, as I hummed to myself and meandered around the grassy meadow, gathering flowers. I was aware of a shadow falling over me, and I was jerked bodily off the ground, a huge hand across my mouth, almost crushing my jaw in a bid to keep me from screaming. I struggled, but was no match for his brute strength. Helpless, the flowers I had gathered fell from my arms onto the green grass beneath my feet. I remember looking at them as I was dragged away, a forlorn posy of milky white.

As he pushed me down onto the ground, I knew what was going to happen. Scratching and clawing wildly, I managed to rake my nails across his face. The backhand dazed me. There was liquid in my mouth; the tangy rust telling me it was blood. I had probably bitten myself. My mind froze, and I stopped struggling. His rough and calloused hands caressed me, coarse fingers running through my long hair. I felt him press his lips against my neck, his bristly beard scratching my soft skin, and I fought a shudder of revulsion.

Eyes closed, I concentrated on the beautiful sky, on the pure white daisies with the golden hearts, and the silvery castle of clouds I would live in. The ground was soft and muddy; there was a hard lump near my backbone. 'It was probably a stone', I thought as a saw a small bird up in the sky. My sky. I closed my eyes, I didn't want to look anymore, and felt the buttons of my dress popping, his hands on me, on my bare skin. He was speaking, his warm breath grazing my face, yet still I kept my eyes shut, my ears closed, my hands clenched, my brain sealed. In comforting tones, I could hear him try to soothe me; all the while his hands were gradually getting rougher in their quest to relieve me of my clothes.

With a sickening rip, I heard my rest of my dress tear. I held back a sob. He was becoming increasingly impatient at my unwillingness to ease his progress. I thought about the wedding, 3 months ago. Mother was lovely; she wore a beautiful virginal white gown. He looked his usual self, dour, hard-faced and cheerless. I never liked him. My eyes flew open when I felt his coarse beard grate my face, his tongue pushing in my mouth. I saw the look on his face, the leer that would haunt me for months to come in my dreams whenever I managed to fall asleep. He left a trail of saliva and sneered, covering my mouth with his hand. Closing my eyes, I was tempted to bite him, to draw blood. Then he penetrated me.

My entire body spasmed. I tried to scream, it was painful, it was alien, his body jerking on top of me, moving against mine. Tears were escaping from the corners of my eyes, still squeezed tightly shut. Screaming silently for help, I blocked out the pain, his hand still over my mouth. My head was pounding. His body went still after a shudder, his grunts echoing in my brain.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. I laid there looking at the sky for a very long time, numb. It was so, so beautiful, pristine and unspoiled. I remember making my way back to the house, into the bathroom. I remember the big mirror, reflecting light from an open window, and I remember the person who stared back at me. She was ugly, bruises on her face, bruises on her body. She was dirty, mud, blood and grit on her body. Her long hair was matted, daisy petals tangled in between strands of once-shiny hair now slick with muck. She looked so bleak. I remember feeling sorry for her.

My throat restricted, I gagged and felt a surge of hot, sour liquid welling up. Bent over the sink, I retched, tears mingling with the blood and vomit in my mouth. Sobbing, I dashed to the shower, turning it on at full blast. I had forgotten to switch on the heater, cold water streamed out of the showerhead. It didn't matter.

Water sluiced down my body, washing the mud from my hair and the blood from my face. I grabbed the soap and started scrubbing; I didn’t stop until my skin was raw and pink. The water soothed the soreness of my skin, and the pain abated after a while. I picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing again, tears streaming down my face from the pain, both inside and out.

My eyes fell on a pair of scissors. I saw my hands, blue-veined and trembling from the cold, reach towards the gleaming steel blades. It felt heavy in my hands. Still staring at the mirror, I grabbed locks of my wet hair and started cutting, tufts of glossy blackness dropping onto the cold wet tiles. The feeling of the blades severing my hair felt good. Frenzied, I kept on going and didn't stop until I had sheared my head. With my hair gone, I placed the scissors carefully on the counter and looked in the mirror. A blanched face stared back at me, nose red and swollen from sniffling. I was mesmerised by the eyes, the dark rings around them made the eyes look bigger, and the tears cried made them more luminous.

By the time I got out of the bathroom, my skin was wrinkled and soggy, wet and sore. Standing in front of the open window, I felt a cool breeze chill my already cold skin. Looking out at the pale, incandescent moon glowing in the night sky, I cried. For my helplessness, for my weakness, my lost innocence.

Two months later I left home, vowing not to cry anymore, to be strong. I did nothing, told no one. And ended up here, still cold, still hurting, still in pain, still seeking salvation. Slumped naked on the frosty tiles of the tiny dirty bathroom, I felt subdued, bitter even.

Closing my eyes, I felt the tears come again; this time I didn't fight it.

-end-

Related links: Protect Yourself

Not that I'm assuming anyone is going to steal this, but in the event that you feel like it, please please drop me a line and ask, and I'll let you use it. Any other thing from this blog you can take, but this one is personal, ok?

In other news, I'm fine now. :)