[F&R] Some people deserve to die.

It hurts, she thought, it hurts really bad, as the tears welled up in her eyes. She had them tightly closed, but tears of pain poured out, beyond her control, as her step-father raped her. His sweaty obese body pinned her to the bed, and she withdrew inside and waited for it to stop. The first few times he held his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream, and she tried and fought against him, but he was too big and overwhelming, so she learned to just lay and wait until he was finished.

He twitched several times, his fluid running into her, and she wanted to throw up. His hair was greasy, his body smelled ripe, then he brought his rotten teeth and alcohol flavored breath close to her face, and whipered, “I wuldn't hafta ta do dis if yor mom wasn't sush a stupid lush.” She knew her mom was passed out on the sofa in the living room, a fifth of vodka nearly drained, ignorant to the fact that her daughter was being molested. The one time she did try to talk to her mother about it she slapped her so hard across her face and left welts, and hissed at her NEVER to talk about Jack like that again. She rambled on in a drunken stupor about how Jack took care of them and put a roof over their heads, and about how ungrateful she was. Stung, Samantha could only wonder about the world in which she lived, the world she viewed, from the eyes of a thirteen year old.

She did the best she could in school, reading everything she could and getting As on all her coursework, and became known as the smartest girl in class. She kept to herself, and only made a few friends, but she never told anyone of the horrible secret she harbored inside. That was her life, tortured and mute, until she turned sixteen and met Philip for the first time one fateful day.

They bumped in the hallway at school, bustling along to their next class, and in that instant of contact she knew there was something different about him, something she felt. He paused, and smiled at her, apologizing, and she blushed at her own clumsiness.

“Hi, I'm Phil.”

“I'm Sam.”

“Uhm, would you like to talk sometime?”

She looked at him, curious, and nodded.

They chatted for a few more moments, setting up the spot to meet after school that day, and as she walked off to class she wondered what had just happened.

They met, and talked, and become friends instantly, Philip easy with his words and smile, and Samantha feeling comfortable sharing her thoughts. The honesty he provided was refreshing, and he told her that he was gay. She felt safe with him, and as their conversation continued, she finally felt the courage to tell someone her secret. He hugged her, and as she cried she held onto him.

“Sam, you must tell the authorities,” Phil stated softly, “He can't get away with this any longer.”
She recoiled with fear.

“No, I can't. I don't know how.”

“I'll go with you. We'll go together.”

“You'd do that for me?”

“That's what friends are for.”

He took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. She felt that she could trust him, and for the first time in years she felt alive again. They talked about going to her house, getting some clothes of hers and a few belongings that she wanted to get, and then they woud go to the police station to file a report and then he'd walk her to a nearby shelter while the police went over and arrested Jack.

When they got inside, her mom was snoring on the couch, and Jack wasn't anywhere to be seen, so they walked softly to her room where they could gather here things. Phil helped her load her most precious posessions into a couple of pillow cases, and as they were exiting from her bedroom, Jack appeared from the bathroom, his bulbous shape staggering, and he spotted them, peering drunkenly at them while he leaned against the wall.

“Hey,” he roared, “What the hell is going on here?” Her mom on the couch quit snoring and rolled over, oblivious.

They had stopped in their tracks, and as Sam looked at Phil, Jack started talking again.

“Waaait jus a secund. It's that da Mckensie boy?” Jack roared with laughter.

“I knowed about you boy, youse a faggot. Your paw down at da shop is real ashamed of you, and we tease him alllll da time about his [snip] son. Watcha doin in my house, wit my dotter anyways?”

Jack frowned his eyebrows, thinking. His demeanor changed to anger.

“Oh hold on now here,” his voice climbing, as he started stumbling towards them.

Sam and Phil took off towards the kitchen through which was the exit door. Jack bellowed like an elephant and came charging at them. Sam ran to a drawer and got a butcher knife, as Jack grabbed Phil by the front of the shirt and snatched him into the air.

“You aint goin nowhere, missy, and speshally not wit no fag boy.” He flung Phil against the counter, and Sam watched in horror as a gash appeared in his temple and he fell against the ground, unconscious and bleeding.

Something turned on inside Samantha, and as her step-father approached her she held the knife in front of her and rammed it into his chest. He gasped with pain, as the knife punctured his lung, and he flopped over onto the floor, the knife still sticking in his midsection.

“Oooh, you've done it now,” he spat at her as he tried to get back up, “I'm gonna keel you now.”

Samantha attacked him, filled with rage and hatred, and she pulled the knife out of him and raised it in the air above her as they struggled on the kitchen floor. It came down again, into his throat, and then again and again while she sobbed as she watched the blood splattering them.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she said with every blow, then suddenly she jumped off him, totally reviled. She looked around at all the blood, and spotted Phil, still bleeding. She rushed over to him, and used the edge of her shirt to wipe the blood and check the wound. It wasn't deep, so she shook him back awake.

“Phil, wake up,” she cried, “Wake [snip] up.”

“Ough. What happened?”

She started sobbing as Phil looked around and saw the blood, and the lifeless slug that used to be called Jack.

Phil walked her to the police station two blocks away, and they explained the story to them, and the police went to the house with her mom still passed out on the couch. They woke her up, and she went hysterical, and far as I know she still under sedation in the local loony bin.
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“Hi, I'm Samantha, but you can call me Sam. Josh has reminded me that I need to write about my thoughts more, and so I am. I'm a complicated girl, having seen more in my life than most do in several, and Josh is helping me to see myself again. It's complicated how it works, so I won't begin to try to explain it, but it's a good feeling to know that Josh is there when I need him. To finish off the story, the rape kit verified my life, and Phil stood beside me the whole way. That is, until I found out I was pregnant two months later, and Philip my best friend, took off and left me alone.”

Sam pauses for a minute, regaining her shielding.

“Ok, Josh, that's all you're getting for now. The session is over now anyway.”

You know what i think we should do, ( even though I sound pretty cold hearted to say this about my own generation). Upon the age of 16, you have to take a somewhat basic aptitude test, if you pass, you get to live, if you fail, you don't. that away, all the people in schools who never paid attention in class, wasted taxpayers money, and wasted the knowledge brought to them, would either have to learn, or die. would cut a lot of the true idiots down, that are to run this world after the last generation dies off. And the taxpayers money wouldn't be wasted, and it would slowly cut down on the overpopulated 7B that we have already.

Yes, that is harsh. Ouch.

I think it would lead to rampant cheating on the test. I'd help my own kids cheat, for sure, to ensure their survival.

Originally posted by Alchemicflames

You know what i think we should do, ( even though I sound pretty cold hearted to say this about my own generation). Upon the age of 16, you have to take a somewhat basic aptitude test, if you pass, you get to live, if you fail, you don't. that away, all the people in schools who never paid attention in class, wasted taxpayers money, and wasted the knowledge brought to them, would either have to learn, or die. would cut a lot of the true idiots down, that are to run this world after the last generation dies off. And the taxpayers money wouldn't be wasted, and it would slowly cut down on the overpopulated 7B that we have already.

That is not how life is lived, its how life is controlled.

Text: 1984, Fahrenheit 451, Enders Game, Brave New World

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Synopsis:

I tried to depict an individual scenario here, of a common occurrence here in the USA that is also a rampant travesty in other countries such as India and Vietnam. Rape is not an easy topic to discuss, and yet it happens. All the time. This story presents a stereotyped situation that is not really far from the norm. It's not a pretty subject, and I figured this would not get far as a story in a contest, because people tend to look the other way, and refuse anything that doesn't intimately affect them.

In this scenario, there is no forgiveness. The step-father had exceeded his moral bounds, and deserved to die by the hands of his victim. Why not let him die a slow death of cirrhosis of the liver? Because the abuse would've continued, if not with Sam, but with another.

I wrote this one from the perspective of a patient going through therapy. I'd like to think she has more to confess.