TRIGGER WARNING. THE WRITING IN THE STORY INCLUDES TOUCHY AND GRAPHIC TOPICS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ________________ Lisa’s, pigtails. Chapter one. Innocence. If I remember correctly, it was a Monday morning. I was supposed to go to school that day, but I was told to stay home; bribed with spending money. I miss him, my old man, my papa, my daddy, my father, my rapist; oh how he loved my sweet little head. I can still remember the smell that resonated off of his dirty, wrinkled shirt- Booze. Every Saturday night, daddy smelt like this, most likely because mother had passed away. I remember the feeling also, oh... the feeling. I can remember the cold trail my tears left against my soft, no longer innocent cheeks. Even the sounds, from the dead man that had lain upon me. “I’m just breaking you in sweetie.” daddy always repeated. He was right, he was breaking me. I am broken, and will always just be broken. A piece of meat for his use, I am just at his dispense. I was daddies little Lolita; of the age of 7. I guess daddy just wanted to feel free before his own passing, wanted to eat from the forbidden fruit tree, he wanted to sink his teeth into the apple. Every night daddy would make me fulfill my nightly duties, before I could sleep. I was always tired by morning. Shortly, only after few months, he passed away; suicide had taken his empty life. It’s possible the guilt of tainting his own creation, watching his sweet Lisa lay there paralyzed from the pain and shock of being stolen over and over by the man she once saw as her hero, pushed him to the edge. Or, maybe it was almost getting caught; that was the day a lot of things changed for papa and I. See, how it happened was simple; I was in school and he had requested to sit in my classroom, to watch me, make sure I do my work and stay awake. My grades had dropped from the long nights of no sleep, and this was the only solution my principal had come up with, it was that or summer school. Around 2 PM, it was recess time, though that day, I wasn’t able to play with the other kids. Daddy kept me inside, he told me that he wanted to give me a present for paying attention to my studies. It was a terrible present, a painful one. I struggled; I told him that I just wanted to go play. I can still hear is raspy, terrifying voice. “You are going to be playing sweetie, playing with your papa. Remember our silent game?” he reassured me and patted my head, in a silly attempt to calm me. That… That was when he grabbed me by my blonde pigtails and bent me over a wobbling wooden desk. I tried to drown out the feeling of him ripping my school skirt and underwear down; I stared out the big window in front of us, watching all the other kids, kick a red ball around on the basketball court. His hand reached around my small and defenseless form as he placed his hand over my mouth. The next second was a blur, I saw black, but felt skin tearing. Other than the pain, which seemed to last for hours, I only really remember daddy moving away from me, as a small child; Kyle, I think was his name, looked up at the window. I heard father’s gasp as he pulled me from behind to the ground and told me to pull my skirt up. This was when he did the same, redressing, and he left school that day. The rest of the day I couldn’t sit without tears bubbling up in the corners of my eyes. When the bell rang on that Tuesday evening, I stood up slowly only to look down at the small puddle of blood, smeared against the blue colored school chair. Daddy killed himself 3 weeks later.
Posted on: Fri, 01 Aug 2014 03:12:26 +0000
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