The Suffering Never Ends
| Night after night, I remember the moaning coming from mother's bedroom, except, they were never moans of joy, passion or love. They were moans of pain and suffering. I woke every morning, waiting for the bad man to leave while bawling in my tear stained pillows. The only solace I could find was with my brother, Tristan. Only he could soothe my pain with his soft and gentle hands, stroking my cheeks until I fell asleep in his strong arms. They always felt soft to me, no matter how hard and callused they were in reality, after hours of him hammering steel and being blasted by the blazing heat of the forge. The first time I was ever bedded, all that I can recall is a night of pure magic ending in catastrophe. His charm, his laugh, the way he smiled when we were together... I thought I was in love. I honestly can't even remember his name, only what we did together. My mother had taught me how to play with boys; how to get them to do what you want... the key was in between a woman's legs. Read at your own discretion :
The next morning, however, is an entirely different story... When my eyes finally fluttered open, what I saw was not the boy who had made me cry in pleasure the night before, but the man who raped my mother every night. Overcome with a sickly feeling, I had grabbed my scattered clothes from around the room and ran back home, where Tristan would cradle me in his strong and muscular arms. I had and still do have an incredibly difficult time trusting anyone and letting them through the high walls that have kept me safe for so long. Although one day, maybe, I will find someone like my dear brother Tristan, to protect me from the evils of this world. And maybe that day, I can finally sleep with a man and not see the horrid and laughing face of the man who ruined my mother... |
