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RATED PG13! - WARNING explicit language and scenes
Death ~ the only sincerity

Her clothes were tattered and torn; her icy cold flesh had been caked in dirt. She was running; running aimlessly through the damp cold air of this horrible October night. She couldn’t stop, that was all she knew. She had to run. She was pursued by the vengeance of her very thoughts. Desperately she tried to run away from reality, from the events that had just occurred. Running through the park her clothes caught on the branches around her. Her t-shirt and boxer shorts were torn by the thorns of the bushes as she hurried by. Trying to hide from the pain and embarrassment that engulfed her, she eluded the public and its scrutinizing eye.

She began running through the back streets of the small city, splashing through puddles, the icy water causing a burning sensation to run through her skin. Tripping, she fell to the ground and cried out in pain falling helpless to her knees. Confused and frightened she gathered herself and with a tremendous effort stood back up. She would only run a few more feet before stopping once again. She could no longer go on, exasperated from her sojourn she collapsed on to the pavement once more. The young girl curled up into a tiny ball, trying to make herself as small and as invisible as possible to the world. Laying along side a dumpster in an empty ally she began to cry inconsolably.

She wept profusely at the recent events. The dirt that caked her skin was nothing compared to how dirty she felt just then; she would never be able to cleanse herself from the wrath, from his sin. The sins were not only those of someone who had once been her lover, but of herself as well. She observed the bruises in the shape of hand prints that lay across her pale skin, like shadows that dance upon freshly fallen snow. Her eyes once gray seemed pure blue with their sincerity, with their pain. The girl looked up helplessly to the sky in anger and disgust. She let out a silent cry damning the God she had been raised to believe in. Bowing her head slightly from guilt and shame she stared down at a puddle and saw not herself but the face of a completely different girl peering back at her. The only thing she recognized was the eyes.

One hand rose to touch a tear falling down across her cheek, making way for her lips of rouge. The other hand stretched itself out to reach the puddle; her fingers skimmed the surface creating ripples that would slowly disrupt the image of her pain ridden face. A sudden rush of rage swept over her and she through her hand down into the puddle splashing its contents all over her already frozen body.

A long low sob found its way from what it seemed to be the bottom of her soul, up her throat, and escaping its way out of her mouth. She felt as if she was dying. She was dying. This is what death must feel like. The young girl was nothing more than an empty shell that had been battered and used.

Images filled her head of her being held down, of her repeating the words over and over silently mouthing them, her voice escaping her. She could no longer fight them off. Completely seized by the pain she began to convulse, rocking back and forth frozen on the ground. She was dying, she was sure of it. Nothing could keep her alive at this point, her soul had been taken and she had been left with an empty void that was now filling itself with pain. Unconceivable amounts of pain that coursed through her body; ran through her veins. With every breath she took more pictures would fill her head.

“No,” she murmured weakly “Please, make it stop.” The images would not cease, they came to her flooding her body now with a sensation like no other. She wished with every fiber of her being that she was dead. She could not see living her life in an empty shell being dead inside. Kissed by death. That’s what had been done; she had been kissed by death.

As her moaning grew louder a presence drew nearer. She knew she was no longer alone, but she did not care. She hadn’t the strength left in her to care. It stood over her, but she did not look up. A new fear coursed through her body, what if it was him? Silently she cried to herself inside, she kept telling herself no, - no - that it couldn’t be him.

But she was wrong, it was him. He told her to stand up, and she felt as if she was falling, grasping at edges of a nightmare that melted away within her fingertips. He said it again, “Get up,” but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breath. She felt his arms close around her firmly, in an almost gentle way.

“Everything is okay,” he said “It’s alright, nothing will ever happen to you again. I won’t let it”

There was an eerie calm within his voice, and the tenderness by which he carried seemed completely out of his character. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to love him. Or was it just that she wanted to be in love? Did she truly hate him? How could she despise him? Oh how she loathed this man.

He took her home, and placed her back into bed. He slowly removed her shirt over her head. He kissed her cheek and her shoulder. He began to kiss her neck in the way that he knew would send shivers down her spine. She began to cry slowly and silently, half passed out from the pain, emotional and physical. He kissed down her stomach and slowly brought her boxer shorts to her ankles. He began to go down on her and thrust his fingers into her. An intense sorrow and at the same time an intense pleasure seethed through her body. He told her he loved her, that he was sorry. He then got on top of her and slid himself into her.

She wanted to pass out, to die, to sleep through this and wake up not knowing anything that had happened. He whispered dirty phrases into her ear, he kissed her to muffle her screams, and fucked her for what seemed an eternity. She felt helpless, weak. The young girl was unable to move, her body felt as if it had been weighed down by lead.

When he was finished he got up, wiped himself off and left her lying there, alone. She had thought before that things couldn’t get any worse. She was wrong, so very wrong.

With every last bit of her soul she cried out for deliverance; for someone to take her from this pain. Eventually, she passed out too shaken by her sobs to think any further. She prayed only that she wouldn’t wake up.

The next morning she didn’t get up to go to class, nor did she get up for food. Nothing could make her move; she lay listless in her bed completely broken.

When she finally did awake she began to write madly. Poems flowed out of her mind, through her shattered soul, and out of her pen. The words left upon the paper seemed to repeat themselves, ever bitter, ever sorrowful:

“I am lying here, naked and shattered and torn. I have become victim of your vengeance, victim of your scorn. Laying here alone, left in my solitude. I gave you my innocence, this was your gratitude.”

Finally, she placed the pen back down only to fall asleep once more, but even now her dreams couldn’t save her from her reality.

~The Confrontation~

The young girl awoke the next morning and waited for a call from her newly found companion. This man had quickly become her confidante, she confided everything in him. He was jealous though, and becoming impatient. He said that he wouldn’t remain her friend any longer, he needed something more. He wanted her to break up with Derek to go out with him, despite the fact that he lived miles away and would never see him. She would have to choose.

Finally the phone rang, she knew it was him. She always knew when he was calling, she couldn’t explain it, she just knew. She picked up the phone.

“Hello?” she said wearily.

“Hey Ally, what’s up hun?” Sean asked in an upbeat matter.

“Nothing, you?” she tried to sound as normal as she could, but it was impossible. Her voice sounded so detached, even to her. Generally, she was able to put up a good front and fool those around her into thinking that nothing was wrong, but she couldn’t do this with Sean, he knew her too well.

“What happened hun? What’s wrong precious one?”

“Nothing, I’m fine Sean. Just tired.” She replied.

“Oh bullshit Ally, I know you too well for that. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I don’t want to talk about it.” She couldn’t understand how easily she was snapping at him.

“Ah so you do admit that there’s something wrong,” said Sean in a know-it-all attitude.

“I never said that,” replied Ally, “You just implied it.”

“Bullshit Ally, I’m going to go. Talk to you later. Bye,” he said in a snide sort of tone.

“No! Wait,” she suddenly was filled with a horrendous fear, she didn’t want to be alone, “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Ally, I love you, tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a long pause; all she could hear was her heavy breathing. Why was she breathing so hard? Was she even breathing at all? Time felt as if it had stopped, along with her heart and she could feel something tearing at her insides.

“Did something happen with Derek?” asked Sean in a prying tone.

Ally let out a small little whimper and gasped for breath. She couldn’t think, she didn’t want to feel, she had been completely seized by her fear.

“Ally!” Sean repeated imploringly “Did something happen with Derek?”

“Yes,” Ally replied weakly. She was so incredibly quiet that she could barely hear herself when she answered him.

“What was that?” said Sean.

“Yes” said Ally louder, more annoyed this time.

“What happened Ally?” Sean waited for a response this time, listening to Ally sob quietly on the other end of the phone.

“He…he….” She began to stutter, there was nothing she could say or do. Fear had taken a hold of her, paralyzed her. The memories taunted her and would not let her go.

“Did he hit you?” Ally was all of a sudden silent. Not even her breath could be heard. In a cold tone, one that felt as if it could kill, Sean asked “What else happened?”

“He…he made….” Ally swallowed hard and took a deep breath. She then frantically blurted out “He made me do things.”

“Do what Ally?” There was a long, uneasy pause. “Do what??!”

“It’s not his fault; I didn’t do enough to stop him. And I even enjoyed it at times. I enjoyed it Sean, I enjoyed it.” Ally had started to sob inconsolably.

“Ally, did he force himself on you?”

She was silent. She felt trapped, she felt as if the silence would kill her. Ally wanted to scream but she couldn’t find her voice. Everything was gone, everything.

“Did he rape you?” Sean asked firmly.

Ally gasped. “No, I didn’t do enough to stop it. It was my fault, I…I..I even enjoyed parts of it.”

Sean repeated himself, this time more a statement than a question, any hint of warmth that had been found in his voice before was now gone. “He raped you.”

Ally began to cry hopelessly. “Don’t say that!” she pleaded.

Sean said it again, over and over. Ally began to scream and plead. “No! Don’t say that!!”

“Why not?” asked Sean, “It’s the truth. He raped you Ally, say it.”

“No,” she hesitated, unsure “I won’t.”

“He raped you.”

Ally began to rock back and forth, crying profusely. It felt as if someone had sliced open her chest and ripped out her heart.

“He raped you. Ally he’s an ass and he raped you. Say it Ally, don’t make me keep repeating myself. He raped you Ally. He raped you and he’ll do it again. Oh he’d love to do it again. Ally, you know what he did to you, you know he raped you.”

“Stop it,” Ally said gritting her teeth. “You’re wrong.”

“Say it.”

“No.” said she said coldly.

“Say it Ally.” The words sounded more like an order, a command than anything else. How could he ask her to say these words? Doesn’t he know how she feels?

“No!” She answered angrily.

“Say the god damn fucking words Ally! Say it! He raped you! Say it!!”

“No” she replied breaking down. She started to cry, she knew she was defeated.
“He raped me” she whispered.

“What’s that?” asked Sean in a somewhat chastising tone.

“He raped me,” she replied crying. “Are you happy?”

“No,” he replied firmly, “Say it again.”

“He raped me…” Her voice started to trail off.

“Oh God,” she said. Ally began to panic, sequences of words trailed out of her mouth. The fragments of her sentences didn’t make any sense, she couldn’t get anything out. Her mind had become a prisoner of it’s own body “Aw man, fuck. How could…? Oh God. No. It can’t….But, Oh God no. Was it….? No….It can’t be, I won’t let it be.”

“He raped you Ally” said Sean.

She began to cry profusely. She must have passed out because she woke up to a dial tone on the other end of the phone. Ally felt so cold, the kind of cold that comes from the inside out. She had finally died; every last bit of her that could feel was gone. Now numb from the pain she had no choice but to do what was expected of her, to walk among the living while being dead.
Dreams On Hiatus
You might want to put a rating/warning for the younger people on the site.

"He wanted her to break up with Derek to go out with him.."

okay, so, who is the Sean guy who calls? And who is this guy that she had sex with? <-- That found her in an alleyway? (That's really scary...some random guy taking a girl in an alleyway home and then basically raping her, although she really didn't stop him, so...) Wait -- is the guy from the alleyway Derek? And is Sean the current boyfriend? If that's the case then it's a little more clear now.

It's not a bad story, it doesn't really have a plot though. With some tweaking and stuff, it'll come out pretty good. smile.gif
it has a plot

it's based on life events

derek is her bf who abuses her but she's been breaking up on and off with him

sean wants to go out with her

and I wanted ppl to be confused in the beginning due to the emotions she was feeling -- total confusion -- I didn't give her a name or anyone names in the beginning because I didn't want them to be identified. It was more a good vrs evil kind of thing, to focus on their character and not come up with any preconcieved notions of who they are. I want ppl to be able to relate to the character's and their ..well..character - not their name.

As the story goes on, Ally will explain things that have happened in conversations. That's just how the story will play out, it's one of those you have to keep reeding things.

The problem with writing about such a contoverstial subject as date rape (or anything like that, really) is that it can never come out being extremely preachy. This story (and every other that I had read) can not do it justice.

Plot issues aside, though, I'll do my best to give you a comprehensive critique.

The story itself is overly dramatic. While florid speech is proper, one must use it a little more sparingly. Your story drips with rather bland melodrama, which, while effective at the beginning, loses a lot of its effect in the more gritty parts of the story. Florid language has its place, but vary it; simple language can be just as (if not moreso) effective.

My other main problem is that the speech in this story is almost completely unbelievable. The major offender has to be the guy sean, though. He speaks like the narrator speaks; real people don't talk like that. There needs to be more realism. The things he says also don't make sense, as all the advice he gives her would actually have pushed her further into depression; he had absolutely no empathy for someone that he supposedly loved. While we're on the subject of realism, the fact that the guy came back for her from such a long way doesn't make sense at all - espescially if he had already beaten her. There was no apology, and since this guy isn't a cold hard rapist, he would not forego trying to make up with the girl before having sex with her.

Anyway... those are just my two cents.
My other main problem is that the speech in this story is almost completely unbelievable. The major offender has to be the guy sean, though. He speaks like the narrator speaks; real people don't talk like that. There needs to be more realism.

The problem is this story is real. I'm not talking about it happening to various people, it's happened to me. I'm paraphrasing things and changing names, but the content of the story, how unbelievable it may be, is true.

That's what was said in the conversation. That's how the man spoke. Therefore, that's how I wrote it.

On the other hand I do appriciate your constructive criticism. I love to use large words, lol as if you couldn't tell. Most of the time it gets me to where I need to go tough (NY state testing I got a 99 on my english essays).

But I'll take your advice and try to make it simpler.
Dreams On Hiatus
It's really not that bad though.

We need to work on our story.
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