Author Topic: Revelations  (Read 2471 times)


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« on: February 03, 2005, 01:52:29 AM »
Sixteen years old. She was bright, bouncy, always good for a laugh. Her 'friends' always knew where to find her, running to her when they had a fight with their parents, or had a broken heart. She was there to cheer them, put a smile back on their face, and a ray of sunshine back into their lives. She was their solace. She led a perfect life. How they wished their parents were like hers.

 So why then did clouds of fury shadow her blackened eyes when her father spoke to her in a hushed whisper? She must have no respect. Her father was fun, lenient and loved his little girl very much. He must, for he loved all children. They'd seen how he carried Hannah, his niece, the others flocked to him.

 She turned and ran into the house, long, tightly curled hair flying behind her like a cape as she scrambled up the steps and let the screen door fairly slam off it's hinges. He turned to them and told them, with an exasperated sigh, to go on home...he had to deal with it.

 She was spoiled, they often said. That's what it was. Her father was too kind, too loving. She got everything she ever wanted, obviously, and thought she could get away with murder.

 But these girls lived on the other side. What they didn't know was that as soon as they walked away, muttering and shaking their heads at her naughtiness, her father would find her, and her spoiled princess life became one of utter hell.

 She'd made her way into her bedroom, swinging the door shut so hard behind her that it reverberated off the walls. She tossed her Nike backpack onto the patchwork quilted bed, then did the same with herself.

 Sheets clinched tightly in her fists, she fought back the tears of anger...unadulterated rage. She'd worked so hard to get that B average...she'd studied, she'd taken extra credit...she'd done everything she could think of. She had been so relieved...she'd finally found a way to make him happy, make him love her.

 "A B? Do you know what B means? Above average. That's all you are. ABOVE AVERAGE. That's not even're JUST A LITTLE ABOVE AVERAGE!"

 She rolled onto her side and sprang out of the bed like a tiger released from it's cage.

 There was no fighting the tears this time. It was too much.

 " I DID IT FOR YOU!! YOU SAID IF I DID WELL YOU'D BE PROUD OF ME, BUT YOU NEVER ARE!!" It was as if a dam had broken, and the tears fell in a heated, terrible fury.

 He leaned  back against the flat shelf of her dresser, wicked smirk edging across his face.

 "Any child of MINE would have done well. YOU made B's!" He scoffed sarcastically, "Maybe you aren't really my daughter at all!"

 The tears stopped as suddenly as they had begun. She simply stood, staring at him, the transformation in her features becoming clearer by the moment. No longer was she the weepy teenager, in dire need of love and attention. She was now a frozen block of nothing. No smile, no frown, and worst of all, no fear.

 She saw a flash of something in his eyes...vehemence. He was disgusted by her ability to shut him off when he so wanted to tear her down.

 He spat in her face.

 She remained, unflinching...sedated.

 "You'd better back down from me." He spoke through gritted teeth.

Cold. Even. Flat.

 "When did you stop loving me?"

 There was that smirk again. He still had the upper hand, after all.

 "When you weren't a little girl anymore. When you turned into a worthless piece of sh*t, started getting underfoot, always in the way. Thinking you had a right to feel something. You think you can piss around and not even try and I'm supposed to love you? You SCREWED UP, you didn't earn my love, so it's gone!!"

 She brushed past him on her way out the door, receiving a sudden shove from behind, causing her to nearly tumble into the paneling on the opposite hall wall. She paused, but only for a moment...and continued out the door. She walked until she'd reached a friend's house...but instead of knocking on the door, seeking solace for herself, she went around to the big willow tree nestled at the back of the house.

 She sat, back leaned against it's weight, and pulling up the edge of her blue and yellow plaid skirt, punched her left leg as hard as she could.

 Bad girl. Never good enough.... She had lost another.

 Ten years later. Her father has been gone for four years. Upon hearing of his death, she'd once again become the solace to others in pain. She had, once again, been the stoic, solid wall of nothing. She'd fought with him tooth and nail over those six years. Never again did he say he'd loved her. And never had she been able to be the good girl he wanted her to be.

She is older now, but doesn't feel it. She is as saddened and tearful as the eighteen year old who lost her first love to a vicious, rampant disease. She is just as confused and frightened as that sixteen year old was, standing in her bedroom while that knife was twisted into her very soul. No less frightened and unsure of herself than the six year old who could find no one to save her from the monster who raped her at his will.

 Someone took her father's place. She'd asked this person, called God...for someone to simply take her under his wing and be what her father never was...what she so needed him to be. He'd come to her when she'd least expected it...she'd set up a messenger on her computer because a long time friend in Philadelphia sent her an email asking her to, so they could keep in touch more easily. The first day she'd turned it on, up popped a message. How was she to know it was him?

 They talked almost daily. As the weeks turned to months, she began to realize that the warmth she felt in his 'company' was so much more than a mere acquaintance, and something deeper than friendship. Eventually, she'd let him into her real world...beyond the playful brattiness she so often exhibited to encourage friendship from others.

 And one day, her dreams came true. He took her in, tucked her under his wing and held her there, telling her how he would someday teach her to fly.

 But her own wing is broken.... and only time and love can help it heal.

 The only man who'd ever held the job of teaching her the ways of the world had given her up when she didn't do well enough, and she now lives in constant fear that this man will do the same. He has many expectations of her...what if she fails?

 The fear of losing him crescendos to the point of giving up. She spent the weekend purposefully doing things she knew she shouldn't.

 But did he walk away? Did he tell her she was no longer his?


 But she was afraid, nonetheless, as he instructed her to lie face down on the bed, giving her a folded brightly colored sleeping bag in which to bury her face and muffle her screams. She was very vocal when being punished. Punished? No, wrong word. Punish was something her father did. Payback for screwing up.

 This was discipline. She was to learn from it. It was not a diminishment of his love, it was not an expression of his anger and frustration.

 Frightened as she was, she finally let go of her death grip on his arm, and laid down to await her discipline.

 He began the list, telling her ahead of each how many strokes she would receive.

 The first began with the coat brush.


 The sting was overwhelming. It seemed she had become even more susceptible to the burn of the implements in recent days, and she immediately rolled to her left side, scurrying to the safety of his legs at the side of the bed.

 He stood quietly for a moment, then spoke softly, "Get back into position, young lady."

 Over and over he swung the brush, crop, slim, and belt with a steady, calculated purpose. She could feel her nether region reddening with each and every landing upon her defenseless cheeks, taking many breaks to regain control of her near-hysterical sobbing.

 The stinging was horrendous, and she begged and pleaded, kicked and squirmed, and said she was sorry in the broken voice of a petulant little girl..over and over. He spoke reassuringly to her, and no matter how badly she wanted to run, she knew he would simply reapply her to the bed, and swing harder as her reward for defiance.

 A line of cool cream trickled down her left bottom cheek, then her right, quickly followed by a large, warm paw, gently massaging the deceptively algid mixture into her trembling posterior.

 He stood back, and she held her breath as she waited for whatever may come.

 "And now, young lady, for speeding, and for (your behavior) this weekend".


 The first stroke of the switch ignited a line of fire across the already peppered mounds and she screwed her eyes shut against the flow of tears soaking her face and the blanket against it. She wailed unmercifully, once again a bawling, repentant child.

 When he was finished, he applied one more layer of the wretched cream, as a stinging reminder through the following day until he saw her again. He laid down beside his sobbing girl, and gathered her into his arms, cradling her with a loving touch she had never known. He whispered gently to her, telling her she was forgiven, and reassuring her that his love for his baby sister had not diminished because she had misbehaved. She slept contentedly that night, safe in the knowledge that this time, she only had to live up to her own who he knew she could be. Herself.


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« Reply #1 on: February 03, 2005, 09:08:26 AM »
She slept contentedly that night, safe in the knowledge that this time, she only had to live up to her own who he knew she could be. Herself.

Great ending. Even though the story is quite shocking because it made me feel like I was living it, the ending kinda crowns it. Can't explain what I'm thinking any better than that.

Thanks for posting it babybutz :hug:
May the tawse be with you.


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« Reply #2 on: February 03, 2005, 02:08:25 PM »
Have said it before and will say it again...

WOW - what an excellent piece of writing BB!
Times change, and we change with them


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« Reply #3 on: February 07, 2005, 01:24:17 PM »
Woa, BB, that was powerful, touching and breathtaking. Felt I was there. A lot to be learned from this one. A sad, moving story with a lot of hope attached to it. Thanx for sharing! :)
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« Reply #4 on: February 18, 2005, 02:26:44 PM »
I agree with the others BB.  Wonderfully written, moving story.
I'm glad you found someone who cared enough about you to make you care about yourself.