Drowning: the story of a teenager

A/N: Brief description of rape/sexual assault. It's not very graphic, but if it's not something you want to read, here's your warning.

Chapter 4:

“Misha, what are you doing?”
Her eyes opened with a start. Two green ones met hers, and twinkled in the darkness. Misha stretched, only to realize that she was still sitting at the top of the stairs.
She yawned, “It got so hot in my room. I wanted a glass of water.” She scratched her head. “But I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Why are you still up, Dan?”
He smiled again. “Just having a talk with your mom. Go back to bed, hon.”
Misha nodded sleepily and trudged back to her room. It wasn’t until she flopped onto her stripped mattress that she realized she never did get that glass of water. With an exasperated sigh, Misha rolled onto her back and quickly fell asleep.

Dan was at the funeral. He handed Natalia the flag at the end of the ceremony. An old friend of Jim’s, they went to academy together. He was among many people who came with condolences in the following weeks, but Officer Daniel Stant was the only visitor who continued to visit.
“Morning,” he’d say shyly as he offered Natalia coffee. He’d stay and help clean the house. He would pick Misha up from school in his patrol car, and make them dinners on days when Natalia couldn’t find the strength to do anything. It was his silent shoulder that helped Natalia out of her stupor. She flinched the first time Dan tried to hug her. Her face blank, eyes glazed, but when no strike came, she seemed to grow in herself, and accepted the embrace in earnest.

Officer Stant continued to visit. He was mostly just a presence, a benevolent comforting presence. He was famous at the station for having a temper, but that side never seemed to manifest itself. If anything, Stant seemed nothing less than calm and serenity.
It was not long before his initial friendship blossomed and became a romance. Natalia and Dan were married seven months later. He was reassigned in another two. They bought a house, and left, hopefully to start everything anew.

It took Misha so long to trust Dan. He seemed to like a sincere person, but so had her father. And it only took one incident to change him completely in her eyes.
After she had witnessed that first initial violent outrage, he didn’t seem to care whether or not Misha was in the room at all. His angry screams and heavy hand seemed to be behind every corner. Misha feared for her life the first time Jim came home drunk and throttled her against the wall for leaving her wet boots by the door. Natalia had thrown her body at him to make him drop Misha, who could only gasp on the floor.
“Run to your room. Lock the door,” her mother had ordered before Jim punched her in the face. He continued to pummel her body, seeming to forget completely about his daughter, whom he had been strangling only moments before. Misha sobbed, but turned and ran. She waited at the top of the stairs, hating herself for leaving her mothers side, but terrified to stay in the same room with her father as well. She stood in the dark until her father lumbered away. Natalia lay still, and Misha felt an insurmountable wave of anguish close her throat and paralyze her body. But there was a twitch, Natalia brought one hand to her mouth to stifle her moans, and she miraculously stood, and limped to the kitchen.
Misha listened in morbid fascination as Natalia proceeded to fix her father coffee, some pie for a late night snack. She talked to him as if nothing had happened, murmuring softly to calm the drunken man next to her.

It became normal for Natalia to order Misha to her room. She locked the door behind her daughter, sensing her husband would be angry, drunk, and violent. On those nights, if Jim didn’t beat her, he’d at least have his way with her. And Natalia swore to herself, that she would never let Misha witness that. So she would grit her teeth silently as Jim crashed through the door, fumble at her breasts and grin lecherously. She tried to look demure and he would rape her then.
For all the world to know it was rape, even if she did not say a word in protest. She closed her eyes as he’d grunt and strain above her. There were times when he would notice her silence, her refusal to react, and he would proceed to punch her, slap her, viciously twisting her nipples and biting her skin until he drew blood while he raped her. And he would laugh.
“You like that, don’t you, you fucking whore,” he’d growl into her ear. His breath smelled rank of alcohol, his body would always smell of sex and sweat, and Natalia would only groan from revulsion, fighting her body’s urge to vomit. She would pray during those times, during every time. When her body felt like breaking, she would shut off her mind and scream to heaven in her mind to please save her daughter. She prayed to God to keep her barren, so that no other child of hers would have to experience what Misha did. In that request, God was wondrously merciful.