Excellent, please do more.
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Excellent, please do more.
Really good..Please do more!
excellent! please do more
Great :D more soon please
Her bedroom door opened suddenly and yellow light spilled in from the landing. Kat glanced towards it and saw the outline of someone standing there holding onto the doorknob.
"Dad?" she said uncertainly.
That moment, when she had thought it was her father standing there, would stay burnt in her mind for all time, although she didn't know it just then. It was what caused her to get that weird, nervous feeling whenever Dad entered her bedroom, even when she was 35.
But then her eyes got used to the dark and she realised it was him. Her body seemed to tighten and she froze. What did he want? He was drunk, whatever it was. He was hanging onto the door as though he might fall. What was he going to do to her? She swung her legs off the bed, wanting to get out, but he moved towards her. He was practically swaying - how much had he been drinking exactly? And what had it done to him? She felt a sudden flash of real fear, cold and numbing. Alcohol did things to him. It stopped him being her uncle, that man who she loved and who had helped her with her homework and pushed her on the swings and comforted her when she was hurt.... it turned him into someone she didn't know, someone who did things to her she didn't understand, someone she was scared of. And the worst thing of all was the realisation that these two people were one and the same.
He tried to grab her arm but it was the same place she had the bruise, and she yelped in pain and twisted away. But he was too strong, and he caught her and pushed her against the wall. He was close to her, uncomfortably close, and she could smell stale booze on his breath and foul sweat. His hand was going somewhere it shouldn't and she was struggling but he wouldn't stop. She was crying and she didn't even realise until her face was wet and her mouth tasted of salt. He shoved her onto the bed - it was still warm from earlier, but had lost all of it's comfort. He was doing something but she didn't know what and then he was on top of her and he was trying to kiss her, his mouth was all wet and blubbery and yuck and she was crying and trying to twist her head away. He pinned her down and he was trying to force her legs apart and all of a sudden she understood, it seemed she understood everything, and she had never felt so desperate and panicked as she had in that moment. She never would again.
And then there was a terrible pain and she was crying and whimpering like a rabbit caught in a trap. It was awful and she was dying inside. She twisted her head to the left, face wet with tears and snot and his spit, and saw the moon. It was floating there, a huge white circle, not moving, mocking her as she lay there weeping in pain. She could see the face in the moon, its eternal grin, and hated it. It was supposed to look after her, it was supposed to... She was biting her lip so hard there was blood on her mouth, trying not to cry out, and her hands had clenched themselves into fists and her fingernails were digging into her palms painfully. She didn't even notice.
She watched the moon smiling down at her and suddenly her hate for it transferred onto her mother. Mum hadn't believed her, she had hit her upside the head as a punishment for telling the truth. Mum had promised her that the man in the moon would never let anyone hurt her. She had lied. Her mother had lied to her. Why would she do that? She doesn't love me, Kat thought. She doesn't care. Well, serves her right for not believing me.
Kat squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see any more, but she couldn't shut her ears and the sounds her uncle was making couldn't be escaped. The only thing she could do was pretend it wasn't happening. She needed something else to think about or she would go crazy. Nine times two is eighteen, she thought desperately. Nine times three is twenty-seven. Nine times four is... is... Times four by ten and takeaway four. Thirty-six. Nine times five is forty. Is it? No. She couldn't think straight. She was breathing hard and her lungs were whistling like a kettle when she breathed. The panic was making her throat go all tight and close up. It hurt less now, but she could hear his breathing and feel that thing that was hurting her. She wanted to die.
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more soon, sorry for depressing you all on a Sunday evening :(
wow this is so good! masap!!
Dont worry- you havent depressed me!
I keep realising that it's actually Kat I'm talking about here :crying: It's weird
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Kat lay in bed, trembling. Harry had left her bedroom a few minutes ago without a word, but he had thrown her a glance that said something she didn't want to understand. She hadn't moved since he had climbed off her bed, and now she was lying there on her back. She was afraid to move. There was a horrible hollow ache down there, where he had done that thing to her. She seemed to hurt all over. She had some idea of what it had been - Kelsey and the other popular girls talked about it in hushed voices, giggling like loons, while smoking and trying to look cool and grownup. Kat wanted to be neither of those things. She wanted to be a little girl, going to the park and playing on the swings, and eat ice creams and believe in silly, childish things like the Tooth Fairy and so on. But apparently she couldn't do those things anymore.
She had a terrible thought suddenly. What had just happened, what Kelsey's gang whispered about, had really happened. From what she had heard on TV and from her mother's magazines, once that happened you weren't a kid anymore. Kat stared up at the ceiling in horror. She wasn't a kid now? Was that true? So now she must logically be a grown-up. No, she didn't want to be a grown-up... Grown-ups did stupid things. They smoked and hit people and got drunk and got put in prison.
What if he told her mum? What if Harry told Mum what she had done? He might tell her what had happened. Kat gasped, scared again suddenly. Mum would throw her out, she would hit her again. She would be mad at Kat because Kat had done something that had caused Harry to do something bad, and Kat had ruined the family. Kat's thirteen-year-old logic worked this way. If she had been older, she might have realised. But she was thirteen.
Kat had never felt like this before. She felt soiled and dirty and disgusting. She wanted a shower. She could smell his sweat and booze on her, in her bed, everywhere. She felt contaminated. Suddenly she jumped up out of bed and ran to the bathroom, where she threw up for so long she felt empty and drained afterwards. There was that sour taste of bile in her mouth but she didn't rinse it out. She tried to use the toilet but it hurt to do that. She didn't know why. Down there was painful. She glanced at herself and saw ugly red marks on her thighs where he had shoved them apart. She stared at them, and then started to cry. Wracking sobs shook her and tears fell onto her lap. But she tried to be quiet. She didn't want to wake anyone up.
Awwwwww,great writing but its so sad! I love the flashbacks,more soon please :D
2005
Kat woke up with a cry, torn out of sleep by her nightmare. She had been dreaming about what had happened on that night when Harry had came into her room. She was shivering, although it wasn't cold. she registered that her cheeks were wet and realised she'd been crying - in her sleep? Was that even possible?
The room was pitch black save for a thin sliver of light coming through the curtains. It was silent. Kat could only just hear Mo's quiet breathing if she listened hard. Freddie made a snuffling noise.
Kat rolled over onto her side and pulled the covers over her. She realised she'd been doing that thing with her hands again subconsciously while she slept - there were bright red fingernail marks in her palms. Damn. That hadn't happened for years. She felt oddly disappointed in herself, as though she'd wet the bed or something. She had thought she'd trained herself to block those memories out. She had built up a wall between them and the rest of her mind. But who can decide what they dream?
When she had been with Alfie, if ever she had a nightmare, he would be there to hug her and comfort her when she woke up. He'd stop her being frightened. But now she was in bed by herself in the ebony night and there was no-one to tell her things were okay, that everything would be alright. She was scared. But she'd never, ever admit that to anyone. Except Alfie.
She wanted him back. She really did. Especially at times like this. And it was torture seeing Mo's baby. That was an entirely different thing, but still... On that night she had split up with Alfie, before Billy had grabbed the mic and said those damning words, Alfie had asked... he had asked... it hurt to even think about it. It was all she had ever wanted, but now she couldn't have it. If that stupid secret hadn't come out just then, they would have gone home later and got started on trying to make a baby. It wasn't fair. Right now, Kat thought, I could have been lying in Alfie's arms wondering if I'd got pregnant or not. All she had ever wanted was a baby... not just any baby, either. Alfie's baby. Now she'd never have it, or anyone else's for that matter. She didn't want any other man's baby. Just Alfie's. You're going round in circles, you idiot, she told herself.
But it was over now and she had made her choice. Her sister was more important than her husband. If she had made that choice, why couldn't she feel more happy about it?
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I've got that lyric "but who can decide what they dream" in my head now, and I don't know where I've got it from. :hmm: Help?
awwwwwww more soon!