Message-ID: <4626eli$9710061244@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/4626.txt> From: ate06@aol.com (Ate06) Subject: Freedom by Raven Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-Id: <19971006041101.AAA07592@ladder02.news.aol.com> Freedom by Raven Reproduce this file if you feel like it - just don't change it. If you think it should be changed, talk to me. Maybe I'll like your idea. But please don't alter my words without my express permission, and leave this notice attached. --Raven ate06@aol.com =========================================================== He chose the wrong night to try anything more with her. Her tears had finally worn themselves out after hours spent thinking of the last time. Her mother wasn't home - at work, as usual, no time for her baby daughter. No time for the child she once held gently on her lap while saying she could be anything she wanted to be, the little girl whose haunted blue eyes stared out of her many childhood photographs. Blue eyes seeing much, much more than they needed to... Her parents split up before she was born, and the man that her mother married next was, to put it bluntly, an abusive prick. Emotional, physical, sexual - the man was an expert at all kinds of abuse. One of her earliest memories of him was when she was thrree years old - him quietly sneaking into the room usually shared with her sister, laying down beside her in the small bed, whispering in her ear to "Shut the fuck up" or he would kill her, a hand between little-girl legs, fingers stinging, hurting her, too large for the oh so small opening.... crying herself to sleep, the repeated threat of death... These images were all too common for the next six years. Suddenly, inexplicably, he stopped. No apparent reason; he just stopped. Unfortunately, the only the sexual abuse had stopped... The screaming, shouting and beating continued in the three years where the sexual abuse didn't. She grew to hate him more and more each day, letting the hate fester inside. It made her feel good to hate him. It made her feel good to make him angry with her. She nurtured the hate through her mother's broken promises of divorce, the empty words "I love you," and wondered how anyone so close to her could have been oblivious to what had happened. Then, as suddenly as it stopped, it started again in the fall of her twelfth year. Not as frequent now... But just as awful and painful as before. She just considered herself lucky that he had never actually raped her, and let the hate grow some more... She discovered self-confidence and became more outspoken in her hatred of him. But she never spoke a word of the "other" things he had done to her. She believed his threat, that he would kill her. Finally, she managed to get the courage to tell a few select people, people she trusted. The hatred grew on and on and on. It became a death wish for him. She planned it in her mind, seeing him die, replaying it over and over.... She wondered if she could ever actually do it.... He chose the wrong night to try anything more with her. She was fifteen. She hated him more than ever. Her tears had finally worn themselves out after hours spent thinking of the last time. She sat on her bed, staring at the knife that she held to her wrist, watching the way the light reflected off the blade sometimes throwing strange lights onto her walls.... He opened her bedroom door. She just stared at him, hate and fear glowing in her eyes. In a sudden motion, he threw himself at the bed, pinning her to it and sending the knife flying from her fingers. He used one hand to hold her arms over her head, the other was between her legs, removing her shorts and panties. She knew better than to scream. He began unbuttoning his fly. She gathered up all her courage And rammed her knee straight into his crotch. He collapsed on top of her, freeing her hands. She spotted the knife near the edge of the bed. She seized the opportunity. The knife plunged into his back again and again and again. She rolled him off of her and drove the knife straight through his throat. She climbed off the bed to stand on shaking legs, clad in only a t-shirt. Tears and mascara and blood ran down her face. She stared at the body on her bed. She was free. She began to laugh..................... End -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /