Two
FOUR MONTHS AGO
My eyes flew open at the quiet click of the bedroom door.
I knew better than to fall into a deep sleep.
I stayed lying on my side, my knees drawn up to my chest, as I watched the shadow move along the carpeted bedroom floor.
This wasn’t my bedroom.
It wasn’t my home.
It was the longest home I’d been placed in, sure, but there was certainly no feeling of belonging here.
“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice was thick and low, and I could smell beer permeating the air from his entire being.
The bed dipped near my knees as he sat, pulling at the sheet, and I fought the inward cringe as his hand rested on my thigh, way too high for comfort.
It started shortly after I was placed here, a little under a year ago. First it was just too-familiar touching, over the blankets. Eventually he grew bolder and started caressing my arms and legs. I started to wear long-sleeves and pants to bed, but he simply slid his hand up the lower hem of my pants.
And under the hem of my shirt, giving him access to my stomach.
He only grew bolder from there, some nights sliding his hand all the way up to cup my breasts. Like with the original touches, he started over my bra but eventually he started sliding up under the bottom of my sports bra. It didn’t matter how tight of a sports bra I wore, or if I dared to wear two to bed; he always managed to get his grimy hands on me.
Once, I placed a call to my case worker but he intercepted.
“Who would they believe?” he had asked me.
Him, the man who offered a home and stability to many kids in he and his wife’s twenty years as foster parents, or the girl who was written off as a delinquent? The one who couldn’t stay out of trouble at school and would be lucky to pass with enough credits to graduate?
So when Marie called me back, concerned that I didn’t complete the call, I told her I was doing fine and was just checking in.
His hand moved from my thigh, to back behind my leg, his fingers resting between my squeezed-together legs. I clenched my jaw, my heart pounding erratically in my chest, as he slowly moved his hand up until his finger rested there.
He hadn’t ever…
Please God, not now…
Stupid girl.
God didn’t listen to me anymore than Santa Claus had when I was a kid.
Because there wasn’t one.
My eyes stung with tears I refused to let him see.
“You want that, Genna?”
I never spoke to him during these moments, but I found my voice shaking as I did this time.
“Please don’t,” I whispered into the dark.
“I bet a bitch like you has slept with half the kids in your class, haven’t you?” He removed his hand but I knew I wasn’t going to find relief. No, he simply pushed at my hip, the pressure rolling me to my back.
My eyes burned with unshed tears.
Please, no.
His hand came back to me, this time with his palm over my mound and his fingers digging in between my thighs as I tried pressing my knees together.
“You’re probably dripping wet, a pretty cunt like you,” he whispered into the dark. All I could see were the whites of his eyes as he watched his hand in the shadows.
His fingers slowly moved over me, my clenched thighs no match for him. If anything, it only made his fingers press deeper.
I was so focused on what he was doing to me, I didn’t notice as his other hand went to the fly of his jeans but I certainly heard as he maneuvered the zipper down. My eyes wide, I moved my gaze from his eyes to his lap, where his hand was fisted around his engorged penis.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening…
He stood from the bed but my eyes were fixed to his bobbing penis.
“You want that, do you? Do you want it in your mouth, sweetheart? I want my cock in your mouth.”
He moved to straddle me in the bed, his knees trapping my arms at my sides. He smelled musky and sweaty, and my heart began beating so fast, I thought it was going to run out of energy.
He fisted his penis again and lowered the tip to my face. I squeezed my lips closed.
He moved the head of his penis over the seam of my lips, slowly, and something wet dropped into the crease of my lips. I could no longer hold back the tears; they slowly began leaking down my cheeks.
“Not tonight? Ok.” He let go of himself, not before swiping it over my lips again, and I watched, terrified, as it bounced back up towards his rounded stomach. With his thumb on my lips, he swiped at the wetness he left behind. “Lick it, Genna.”
I shook my head.
“Lick it, Genna,” he demanded again, his whispers growing louder. Never would he speak above a whisper. Probably because he was afraid to wake his wife. I was the only kid in the house right now, but their college aged bio son had moved back in at the end of his school semester.
Only one more month, Gen. One more month until graduation.
One more month before I would try to file for emancipation.
I prayed—I fucking begged—that the next month could fly by but it was beginning to look like my prayers were going unanswered.
Still straddling me, he stuffed his still hard penis back in his pants but he wasn’t done. He moved down in the bed, his hands fisting in the top of my pajama bottoms and with one strong yank, pulled them down to my thighs, causing my legs to fall apart. I covered a sob with the back of my arm, pressing it into my mouth.
My entire body flinched when he ran a finger through me down there. I tried drawing my knees up, but he simply lowered his body so he could rest his arms on my thighs, effectively holding my legs down.
“Look at this pretty clit.” He placed his thumb over me, pressing and rolling circles over it. “I bet all the boys like it. You’re like a fucking flower down here.”
With his thumb busy there, I tried to bring my mind somewhere else, anywhere else. This wasn’t happening.
Oh my God, this isn’t happening.
But it was.
It was happening and I was powerless to do anything about it.
His thumb was still rubbing roughly over my clitoris and my lower half was getting tight with the hard friction. I could feel my nipples tightening at the surge of energy flowing through my body.
Before I could prepare, before I could even fathom it, he speared two fingers into my vagina. I gasped into my arm and my eyes slammed shut at the intrusion. I quietly sobbed into my arm, from both pain and disbelief.
“Damn, so tight.” He was moving his fingers in and out of me. I wasn’t extremely experienced but it was evident my body wasn’t prepared for this intrusion. I snapped my mind to anywhere else, trying so damn hard to not think about what he was doing to me.
When I get out of here, I’m going to go west. Find a beach somewhere.
Or maybe I would do something artistic. I liked to draw and take pictures, but I kept those things hidden. It was one less thing that could be taken from me.
Heck, I could take pictures and paint while on a beach.
I tried to imagine the sound of the waves crashing, the feel of the sand under my toes. If I tried hard enough, I could hear children laughing as they played with their parents—parents who wanted them.
Lucky fucking kids.
Tears were pouring down my face now and as hard as I tried to not notice them, I kept focusing in on the wet streaks and when I came back to now, to reality, I was very aware of what the man who I was supposed to call my foster father was doing to me. His fingers were sliding in and out of me roughly and his thumb was moving around in frantic circles.
My body was tight and was reacting.
My fucking body was reacting.
My vagina involuntarily clenched around his probing fingers and, paired with his thumb now flicking over my clitoris, my body shattered in an orgasm, all while I sobbed into my arm, my other hand pressing hard into my eyes and forehead.
When he was through, he didn’t even pull my underwear and bottoms back up.
No, he just removed himself from the bed and whispered over his shoulder. “I’m sinking into you next, girl.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and I curled into a ball, crying my heart out.