Seren's Story

I don’t know how much time had passed when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We need to take her now.” The accompanying voice said.

I looked up and recognized a paramedic. My father stood in the doorway, his eyes empty this time. I stood up and walked to my room without a word. I felt numb. I felt as if I didn’t have any emotions left in me. I know for certain that I had run out of tears.

My mother’s death was deemed an indisputable suicide. She had slit her wrists and bled to death. There would be no investigation. I sat at her funeral a week later, dressed in black. I placed a perfect white rosebud on her coffin as it was lowered into the ground, and my father led me to the car. I hated the touch of his hands on my shoulders, no matter how gentle it was, and I hated sitting next to him in the back of the chauffeured car, but I had no fight left in me. I felt completely drained.

I slept for nearly three days, in which time, tears and emotions still failed me. I didn’t get up to eat, or to shower, I didn’t go to work or school, to dance, or to cheer practice. After another week, I felt I had to get out of the house, so I resumed my life. I walked onto campus my first day back at school and felt the intense stares from my classmates. Some treated me like I had the plague, others treated me with an overbearing amount of sympathy, but those I was closest to treated me like a normal person. For that, I was thankful. I hadn’t felt like a normal person in a long time, and it gave me some hope. It gave me some emotion back, but most importantly, it gave me reason to continue living.

My co-workers hadn’t heard about my mother’s death, and I planned on keeping it that way. I worked as hard as ever, but I had begun to think that the abuse from my father had ended with my mother’s life. I didn’t mind going home as much anymore. I felt the need to help my father through his grief as well, so I tried to take on my mother’s duties around the house to help him feel better. I hated what he’d done to me, but he was also my father, and for that I had to love him and forgive him.

I cooked dinner, I kept the house clean, I did the laundry and the dishes, and I still managed to keep up with cheer, and dance, and school, and work. I noticed that my father had begun to drink rather heavily. He’d be smashed by the time I got home from work, and would continue drinking stiffly until I went up to bed. It was almost an entire five months that he hadn’t molested me.

I came home from work about half an hour later than usual one warm Friday night in June. My father was drunk, as usual, and had a few friends over. “For dinner.” He told me.

I changed out of my scrubs into my sweatpants and busied myself in the kitchen, making food for two people more than I had planned. Footsteps entered the kitchen, but I assumed it was my father looking for ice or more whiskey, so I went on skinning some vegetables over the sink.

Suddenly I felt a hand reach between my legs and I startled and dropped what I was doing. I spun around on my heels, expecting my father to be there, but he wasn’t. It was one of his friends, and he put his hand over my mouth and pinned me against the sink.

“You’re turning into a pretty young lady.” He said.

He fumbled his other hand around my groin area and didn’t let go of my mouth until he forced himself inside of me. I cried out in pain, something between a whimper and a shout. I couldn’t muster anything more because of the shock and the pain.

When he was finished I collapsed to the floor and he called out. “Dude! Gary, you’ve gotta try some of this!”

My father’s other guest came into the kitchen as the first one bounced out to the living room again, presumably to brag or thank my father. He wrenched me up off the floor and pushed me back onto the kitchen table, where he had his way with me as well. I felt sick and dizzy, and it seemed my world was exploding around me. I could see Gary was shouting something at me, but I couldn’t hear it for all the noise in my ears. My heart was breaking when all I could hear was my father saying “Where’s dinner?” He was watching the whole thing from the pantry door.

I slid off the table to the floor again after Gary had finished twice and given the first guy another go. “She’s not going to feed us, dude.” Gary said.

“You’re right, she’s nothing but a waste, let’s go out to dinner.” My father’s words rang in my head, horrible screeching words that would not give me peace.

Three hours later, I still lay on the floor, no lights on in the kitchen, but I couldn’t manage to bring about enough energy to pull myself up, or even to move. I had cried for an hour after the three of them had left, my face buried in my hands, my pants still halfway across the room by the sink.

I heard a car pull into the driveway and the front door open and close. The light switched on overhead and I heard feet pad across the floor towards me. I opened my eyes and watched my father kneel in front of me and he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

I burst into sobs and cried into his shoulder for a long time.

“I know baby bird.” He said as he rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “I’m sorry.” He helped me to stand up and put my pants back on, and he walked me up to my bedroom with his arm in a firm, fatherly grip around my shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He led me into my bedroom and pulled back the covers for me after I’d changed into my pajamas. “Tomorrow is a new day, and you’ll feel better in the morning.” He tucked me in and I rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.

An hour later, I awoke to his naked body crawling in bed with me again. Before I had a chance to react, he inserted himself and I cried out this time. “No, daddy, no!” I sobbed and tried to push him away. He stopped long enough to slap me and then resumed and began fondling my breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, baby bird.” He said passionately. “It’s just you and me now.” He forced my legs farther apart and thrust harder as I cried. “You’re so good… you’re so good…” He moaned loudly as he came.

My eyes stung, my face stung, and I felt nauseous. He thrust his tongue in my mouth as he started to rub his juices on my belly. I gagged and it was all I could do not to throw up. No sooner than he had closed my bedroom door behind him did I lean over the side of the bed and vomit into the trash bin.

I leapt out of bed and put a chair under the doorknob and curled up in a corner with my teddy bear and fell asleep. The sun was nearly halfway up the sky when I finally woke up, still tightly bundled in the corner with my teddy bear at my chest. My clock read 10.45. I had to be at work in an hour.

My body ached again. I got up stiffly and glared loathingly at my bed, which was still a mess from the night before. I took a quick shower to rinse away the filth that crawled at my skin, put on a fresh set of scrubs and left for work.

“Do you want some toast before work baby bird?” My father called after me as I left, but I wasn’t about to turn around for food.

“Good afternoon, Seren.” The triage clerk greeted me as I walked painfully into the ER.

I forced a small smile, but didn’t say anything. I clocked in, put my belongings in my locker and checked myself quickly in the mirror before starting my duties. I stopped short in front of the mirror and noticed that my eye was black and blue and there was a small cut above my left temple. I quickly went back to my locker and got my foundation compact out of my purse and dabbed desperately at my eye. I could feel the tears burning and threatening to present as I applied more and more layers of foundation and the sickly color still showed through clearly.

“Good morning, Seren.”

“Good morning, doctor.” My voice wavered slightly as Dr. Carter walked in.

I finally got a coverage that didn’t show too much, and could just be dismissed as dark circles under my eye and hurried out to start work.

I took my lunch break around 4.30 that evening and sat in the back corner of the cafeteria by myself, my head buried in my arms. I may have dozed off a little because I sat up with a start as I thought I heard my father’s voice. No one was near me. I checked my watch and went back to work.