Like many, I write erotic fantasy stories. Sometimes they are about females who undergo very invasive and frightening experiences. But unless otherwise labeled THEY ARE FANTASY.
It is my hope that those who are attracted to the young, keep their desires within the realm of FANTASY.
This piece is a slice of reality - a snap-shot of one young woman's life after the sexual abuse she suffered as a child. I strongly recommend that if anyone is contemplating initiating sex with a minor, they read this and take it to heart. It is true, every word of it. And if - after reading it - you can still contemplate doing this to a child, you have no soul.
I know a girl ... a young woman really, who was sexually assaulted repeatedly starting at the age of five years old. Her rapist was her own father. He would come to her in the darkness as she lay in bed. He was usually drunk.
He always said that he fell in love with her beautiful blue eyes. But he couldn't see her eyes in the darkness as he raped her, night after night.
And each night when he was done he would leave her alone in the dark - alone with her pain and her shame and her breaking heart.
She began to injure herself at the age of five. She would slam her fists against her body and cause deep bruising, not to punish herself, but to try to distract herself from her emotional pain by causing physical pain. And to prove she could take it.
As the sexual abuse continued, afterward she would lock herself in the bathroom and hold a cold wet cloth between her thighs trying to make the physical pain of her rape stop. Often the cloth was bloody when she was done.
When she finally disclosed, the news tore her family apart. And it tore her apart.
She started cutting herself - sometimes to dull the emotional pain, other times just to feel SOMETHING, and still other times to distract herself from thoughts of suicide.
As she grew into womanhood she loathed herself and felt shame for what had happened to her and shame for her continuing self-injury. In her mind she wanted to be small, to not be noticed, to shrink and disappear from the notice of others. So she began to eat less and less. Then she began to make herself vomit so she wouldn't absorb any nutrients.
She felt that she didn't deserve to exist.
She would panic even if she drank water for fear that it would make her bigger and then someone might notice her.
At times she would go for days without eating or drinking, to the point of hallucinating, to the brink of death. Family or friends would take her to the hospital where Doctors would try to force her to eat or hold her down and insert an intravenous needle in her arm to rehydrate her - to save her life. During those times they had to tie her to her bed as she fought them and screamed in terror because the fluid entering her body was making her bigger and if she got bigger she might be noticed.
They put her on strong medications to try and regulate her emotions. One of the side effects of one medication was that she developed Tardive Dyskinesia - a disorder that causes her body to suddenly contort and twist, jerk and shudder, grunt and cry out. Though they took her off that med, she will suffer from Tardive Dyskinesia for the rest of her life - it will never go away.
Her life-long dream was to be a nurse. She wanted this more than anything - to help people, to ease the suffering of others, to do something worthy and noble. Because of her Tardive Dyskinesia she cannot - her unpredictable full body spasms could injure a patient.
She can't even go to college because she can't hold a book still long enough to read it.
She cannot sleep on her back - this was the position she was placed in each time she was raped - if she does fall asleep on her back she has nightmares and flashbacks. Nor can she touch her own body with her own hand while she sleeps, for if she does she awakens screaming, thinking she is still that terrified five year old girl and the hands of her drunken father are on her once again.
She cannot go out in public without elaborate efforts to hide the scars from her years of cutting. And if her body spasms are bad that day, she can't go out at all.
She is slowly conquering her eating disorders, but her self-injury continues. She was recently very proud that she had gone ninety days without cutting herself. Then she had a bad night. When she was rushed to the hospital it took sixty stitches to close the deep wounds she had made in her thighs with a razor blade.
I know a girl ... who is beautiful, who has the sweetest blue eyes you've ever seen.
I know a girl ... who is such a kind and gentle soul that she aches to be able to relieve the suffering of others, but she can't relieve her own.
I know a girl ... who is an angel on this earth, and I cannot begin to count the tears I have shed for her.