How To End A Nightmare
by Edeyn Hannah Blackeney

Seriously, folks. Pay fucking attention to the warning tags. This is not a happy shiny story. This is the shit that really happened that led to me having something bottled up inside that I had to write... the stuff that almost drove away Sk8r Grrls fans when I wrote something similar -- a bit of what happened to me -- for Annie in Episode 15. If you just clicked here thinking it couldn't possibly be that bad, here's some disappointing news. It fucking IS that bad. If you ignored the warnings because you didn't see them, this is your warning. If you want to read on, it's at your own damn risk. Complaints about how bad this is will result in my being very... not happy... with you. Last chance to go the fuck away and read something else.

Titles with more than one word, are not General Audiences due to content or emotionally
-- a title that DOES have only one word, is safe for everyone to read.

I have always given the benefit of the doubt to my family, family friends, even neighbors and more recently, classmates, roommates, and folks I work with.

"Well," I says to myself, "they just don't know any better. They were raised that way, it's not their fault. They don't mean to be hurtful. It's not like they're trying to attack me or anything."

Bullshit. What the fuck have I been thinking?

My entire life has been a series of my putting up with them, making excuses as to why I 'deserve' to be reviled and hated by people I love. When I was 10 years old -- IN FOURTH GRADE! -- I was molested the first time by a cousin years older than me. That's right, a grown man came to me and told me to be still. I tried to tell him to stop, to make him go away. He told me that grandma told him that I needed to be punished and sissy boys were punished by showing them what it was like to be a girl.

That was believable. Yes, grandma was that evil. But... I found out years later that this was not so. Well, I figured it out before I found out for certain. Joseph did this, raising him to using grandma's evil by proxy. He was an evil unto himself.

For two years, a little less than monthly that worked. When I had a more important secret to keep, I finally realized that whether grandma told him to or not, it was wrong. I tried to put a stop to it. What secret? That's for me to know. I couldn't let him know. I couldn't let anyone know. Anyway. He came to me, again. Like he had so many times before. I told him that it was wrong, and I wasn't going to let him do it anymore.

"Oh, okay. No more visits like this. I promise."

"That's it? Really? All I had to do is tell you to stop?"

"Yes, really. No more. I'll go and have these visits with [sister's name] instead. You don't have to worry anymo --"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No, you will NOT touch my sister."

"How do you propose to stop me, girly boy?"

"I know what you're doing."

"Is it working?"

And it continued that way, with the threat of his changing targets to my little sister that kept me under his sway. Three more years. I was scared to DEATH of going away for the summer to a camp that I had worked hard and earned my way into. Only the top academic students in the state got to go. The top 330 kids currently between 10th and 11th grades in the whole state of Missouri. But how could I go and leave her to that monster?

I knew by then I was nothing more than his private whore. I have no illusions about what I was. I gave him sex, even if I didn't willingly participate, and even if I really just lie there and gave him a warm body to use in his way. I fulfilled his sexual appetite, and in return he paid me with leaving my sister alone. With peace of mind that she wouldn't be touched.

Then he went away, in March, two days before the deadline for accepting the camp invite. He wouldn't be back until late September. I accepted the camp invite and finally told my mother and stepfather about the opportunity and that I was going. I told my sister. I told my few friends. I told my teachers. They were all ecstatic, with the exception of my sister. She never really liked me.

The camp would have been wonderful and life-altering, even without the added benefit of avoiding Joseph.

Ah, but homecoming.

Someone I trusted had decided to tell "the family" about my "perverted proclivities" in my absence. While I had been at Missouri Scholars' Academy, she had informed my entire extended family that I was a filthy pervert, "... that likes to dress up in women's clothes." I had now been abandoned to the hell that was family life. I had protected my sister from Joseph, and put up with the abuses that she had visited on me for her entire life... and she had went one step further joining in with the berating and ... just... Mom was trying to pretend that it didn't exist. I think that's when I began to truly hate my sister. I avoided her until I was out of high school and out off to college. Didn't really speak to her again until I was nearly twenty-six, when I finally had to come home for my mother's sake. She came to retrieve me from another state, as I didn't drive at the time... all seemed well, and I had hoped that she had grown up. There's a lot more story there, but that's for another time.

Anyway, when I got home from MSA and was confronted with the fact that my entire extended family thought I was not only a pervert, but one that was going to HAY-ELL! -- I slipped into another depression, but almost no one noticed. I was always "moody" as far as anyone was concerned, and they wanted nothing to do with me. My few friends... I tried to commit suicide in earnest for the first time in late August that year, just before school started, and was 'rescued' by a girlfriend who knew about me and didn't care, and in fact considered me one of her best friends. She would cry about it when I asked about it. I don't remember it. I haven't heard from her in over a decade. Life went on, such as it was, for the Autumn and Winter.

In the Spring, Joseph came back. He came to me one night in early April.

"Go away."

"We've had this discussion."

"Beat it, bright boy."

"Ooh, such spirit."

"Just go away, asshole."

"Maybe I should visit your sister, little man."

"If you so much as looked cross-eyed at [little sister's name], Grandma would kill you where you stood, and we both know it. As much as she hates me, she loves that little brat."

"This changes nothing, and you need to understand that I'm still in charge."

Something in me changed. I snapped.

I spun around and saw him for the first time. He already had his pants off, fer crying out loud! It just made me angrier.

"You want me, Joe?"

"Sh. Not so loud, you'll wake someone."

"I thought they didn't care, big boy?"

I advanced on him, and he took a step back. I reached out and grabbed him by his testicles. I let all of my adrenaline-fueled strength go into the squeeze I began then. He whimpered, and bit his tongue.

"What's the matter, loverboy? Don't like it when the tables are turned?"

I twisted savagely. He bit back a yelp.

"Stop. Please stop, you're hurting me."

I laughed. I would swear it wasn't me. It was like I had become someone else, someone fueled by the need to hurt this sexual predator in the way that he had hurt me so many times before. This would be the fifty-second time.

"That sounds vaguely familiar to something I said to you a long time ago, doesn't it?"

"For God's sake, stop it!"

I cackled. He was actually trying to invoke his deity's name. What a sanctimonious...

He was trying to pry my fingers off of himself by now, and trickles of blood were squeezing through my clenched fingers.

"What's the matter, don't like it rough anymore?"

I pulled viciously and dug my fingernails (what little there was of them) into him. Then I pushed. I had him like puppet strings.

"I'll bet you didn't expect me to actually fight back, did you?"

*whimper*

"Did you?"

*whimper*

"Answer me, dammit!"

"No. No, I didn't. Let me go!"

I reached with my other hand and threw his pants out the window. And I released him. He turned to leave.

"Freeze, fuckhead."

He froze.

"Sit your ass on the bed. You came here for some relief and a show. You're going to get it. You so much as move an ass cheek, and I scream 'Rape!' as loud as I can and we see what [stepfather's name] does to you. Clear?"

*whimper*

"I said... CLEAR?"

He nodded.

"Answer me, you fucking rapist."

"Clear."

I still have no idea what was fueling me. Why I was doing this. I opened the closet, I pulled out a dress -- one of my secret dresses from the back of the closet that my few friends that knew about me had helped me get. It was my dress, but no one in the house had known that, thinking that one of my friends wanted it left there as an emergency change of clothes (what can I say, people will accept really lame excuses to avoid facing the truth, sometimes). I pulled on the clothes I never had the courage to wear except on Hallowe'en. Even if I'd been a 'normal' girl, I wouldn't have had the guts. Fishnet stockings, high-heeled boots. I even put on makeup while he sat there whimpering and whining about his crushed nutsac. I took my time. I was gonna show him the real me. The me that he had never touched, never had his way with. I did my hair, my nails... I even had on the 'corset' that my friends had bought me for my 14th birthday (it was a waist nipper that you could buy in Wal*Mart). I made sure that Hannah was there in the mirror, and you could see the hurt and anger in her eyes that had built up over years and over the past months since returning home from MSA especially. Then I turned back to him.

"This is what you wanted, right?"

"No..."

"Don't fucking LIE to me you --"

"Okay. Yes. You were always a gay little pansy! You were always so girly and you had a hot ass, and you begged to be fucked. I figured it wouldn't make me gay if I used you like you were a bitch."

He realized what he just said and I turned red. All over. Not from shame... the angriest I had ever been at that time. I stepped over to him again, and he turned white. Apparently, I was scary. I silently bemoaned the fact that I didn't have something truly nasty to forcefeed to him. I loomed over him. He forgot to protect his 'assets' though.

I grabbed him again, and a sharp cry escaped from him. I slapped him, hard, with my free hand. I squeezed and twisted until he was prying at my fingers and blubbering like a baby.

"Am I woman enough for you yet?"

"Uhh... it hurts..."

"I could give two shits. Answer the fucking question, cocksucker."

"You... you look good. Pretty. What the hell do you want me to say, you gay little homo?!"

I twisted as hard as I could and his eyes rolled up in his head. I would almost swear I heard a tearing sound. He squeaked.

"Tell me the goddamn truth."

"Okay!"

I eased up a bit.

"You look like a real girl, except the dick between your-- AUUUGHHHH! Sorry! Sorry! With a skirt on, no one would know. Do you really want to be a girl?"

"I am a girl you fuckwit."

"Okay. You're a girl. Like that tennis player. Whatever. I don't care. I'll leave you alone. Honest. Just... let... go!"

"Get out."

"What?"

"You. Out. Now. You're going to get the fuck out of this house. You're never coming back. You're walking out the damn door as soon as I let you go and you're walking away. And you're never touching anyone again. Girl, boy, woman... man. You're living as a celibate hermit or so help me, I'm coming after your sorry ass."

He stared at me.

"Got me?"

That startled him out of his stare. He nodded. I squeezed.

"Augh! Okay! Gotcha!"

I pulled, lifted him to his feet. Well, I wasn't actually lifting him, he stood to follow the part of himself I held. I backed him across the room, out the door, across the living room, and out the front door. I shut and locked it, then went back to the bedroom and reached out the window. I grabbed him by the hair of the head as he was squatting down to pick up his pants.

"I mean it, assmaster. You touch ANYONE... and I'll know."

"Got it."

"Now. GO THE FUCK AWAY!"

---

Yes, this is based in truth. As true as I remember it. Autobiographical means it was me. I'm sorry if it offends you, but I put warnings in the tags AND at the top with spoiler space, why the fuck did you read it if it offends you?