(Approximately two months prior)

I lay back against the cool tiles of the bathroom as I attempted to catch my breath. I had been throwing up that morning ever since about 3AM. I must've eaten something dreadful. At least Manny hadn't been using me to relieve his sexual frustration since that night. Yes, that night, which was just over three weeks ago. I wondered if I was pregnant, but quickly dismissed the idea as I had never conceived before by Manny. I have a feeling that he screwed up my body & made me infertile or something. Or he just shot blanks.

I got up off the floor & brushed my teeth. I had to leave for school now or else I'd be late.

∞

When I arrived home after a long day of back-to-back chemistry & AP English lessons, I was greeted to the sole presence of my stepfather.

"Where's my mom?" I asked him cautiously.

"Shopping," he said nonchalantly, keeping a smug look on his face. I walked past him to my room to get a start on my homework when he clutched my arm & spun me around to face him.

"Put your stuff down, we're going out."

No. Just no. I sat my bag down & streaked towards my bedroom. He let me go then came up after me about ten minutes later. I'd locked my door so he left me to be. I became ravenous after a few hours as the last time I'd eaten anything & been able to keep it down was the previous afternoon.

I waited until about 2AM to sneak downstairs & retrieve a meal. As I was halfway through a scrumptious pie, I was apprehended by none other than my stepfather. I sighed when he caught me & proceeded to hustle me out of the house. Probably for more blood farming. I put up a pretty good fight, even if I say so myself. But when he slammed my into the sideboard, along with his body weight, I realized I was done for. He dragged - literally dragged - me to the car, all while I was screaming bloody murder. A per usual no one decided to pay any attention to me. He threw me into the back seat & I waited for the perfect moment to reach around his seat & strangle him. He must have sensed my thoughts however, because he pulled his gun out on me. I knew it was fully-loaded because he never played around with blanks & empty threats.

I knew I wanted to die. I knew it ever since my father was taken. But that meant I wanted to die on my own terms. Not by my fucking scum-of-the-earth stepfather. I guess all of us have thought about dying or wanted to at some point. I don't know, I suppose you haven't truly lived unless you've contemplated death & suicide. But maybe that's just me. Perhaps a small part of us has always wanted to die. At least with me. I have this incessant feeling that gnaws persistently on the periphery of my consciousness. Irrevocably tattooed in my mind. Irrespective of how positive or promising things may be at times, the thought will always be adrift somewhere in the recesses of my sad self. Always ready to be brought out when things get to being terrible again. But now, suddenly being confronted with ominous death, I don't want to die. Hypocritical, huh? I guess it's just my survival instincts coming into play though. I often hear about how "cowardly" people must be to commit suicide. Possibly, in the sense of them fleeing their problems & responsibilities instead of facing them but I also believe that it takes a special kind of bravery. To know that you are about to inflict pain on yourself, to stop your heart & lungs & eyes & mind. To leave naught but a corpse behind. It takes immense guts to overcome primitive survival instincts & keep your head through that noose. To down all those pills with enough liquor. To pull the trigger on your brain. To breathe underwater. To inhale noxious gasses in your car. The list is endless. Unlike our lives.

I remained deadly still in the backseat of the car as I watched the midnight streets fly by. I tried to gauge our direction & path by reading road signs but everything was so fucking dark. The sodium inside the streetlamps really couldn't compete with regular energy-saving light bulbs.

We were driving for some time before we reached an alternate dodgy area with an even dodgier building which was to be our location. I internally groaned. At least this isn't the House of Horrors. But maybe it will be worse. What is it this time?

Manny man-handled me out of the car & made me walk awkwardly in front of him as he held my middle & pressed the gun to my neck with a force.

"Go inside," he instructed, turning me towards the building. I don't appear to have much choice. I made my way to the terrifying structure as a thousand scenarios swam through my head.

The inside was portentous as I predicted. All dark & shady. I quivered & couldn't shake off the feeling that this was a terrible place to be. I was hurriedly ushered through to a room which was lit a little better than the rest of the building. There was a gurney & some torture-device-like medical supplies. Probably another harvesting.

Is this for real?

I turned to fight back & bolt. I gave Manny a nice shiner on his left cheek & fled screaming. I was practically levitating with rage. Fucking asshole, how dare he attempt to steal my body again! He already abuses me for his own sick fantasies, now this? If he's thrown all his money at bottle stores & casinos, then why is he expecting me to suddenly provide for them? And not even by getting a proper, legal job? Yes, there is more money to be made in organ smuggling but would he really stoop that low? Of course he wouldn't use his or my mom's, it has to be mine. He has hated & lusted after me ever since he first saw me.

"She's gonna call the cops!" A young woman in one of the crappy chairs proclaimed as she saw me darting through the reception area. Wait, there was a reception area? Well that's certainly what it looks like. I didn't care to slow down & assure the girl that no, I would not call the cops. Hell, maybe I should call them.

Some burly guy decided to grab my arms then. Why is my life such an agonizingly reciprocating cycle of rapes, beatings, blood farming, secrecy & men stopping me from reaching freedom?

"Hold up, miss," the guy said as he held on with his iron fists. I thrashed & screeched until I was hoarse. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to me though. I kicked Mystery Man in the groin as hard as I could while having my back towards him. He went down but didn't loosen his grip. I fought with everything in me. I might not have professional training but I was small & flighty. If I was a boy, I've been told, I would be a typical boxer.

Manny strolled up just then, smothering my face with cloth. Cloth with chloroform. Sigh. I sigh as my body becomes light and floaty. I am floating. Everything is slow and then sluggish. I'm gone before I can protest.

∞

Waking up to yet another crappy "hospital" room, I felt despondent beyond belief. I wonder how much blood I have to do without. My abdomen aches as I shift around to get my bearings. Oh fuck, they've taken organs this time, haven't they? Probably a kidney since I'm still here. I lurch forward, even though I know I probably shouldn't. There are no abrasions, stitches or any signs of entry into my body. Then why am I in such pain?

I collapse against the creaky bed as Manny trots in.

"You're up," he states the obvious. "You're probably wondering why you're here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You got an abortion."

What.

I stare dumbstruck at him for a time. "How, what even, huh?"

I'm at a complete loss for words. Firstly, at the realization that I was pregnant. Right, that obviously happened because of Manny's habit of ejaculating inside me. But an abortion? At this backyard dump? What the actual fuck? What else could have happened to me here? And how did Manny know I was pregnant when I didn't even?

"You sick, fucking asshole," I spit.

He shrugs and leaves the room. I take my opportunity then to creep off the bed & explore. The decrepit concrete building is furnished with rickety old hospital beds and other ancient supplies. The jagged walls were carpeted in an array of mosses and mildews. I noticed all of this before truly discovering the ghastly pain in my lower abdomen. Worse than my period cramps on the heaviest days. The ache shuddered through me and even taking a step caused me indescribable pain. I felt ripped to shreds, once again. I cautiously trudged back to my bed. I'll lie down for a while & reassess before once more endeavoring escape.

How could this have been allowed to happen? I know he never used protection with me but since I'd never gotten pregnant before by him I rationalized that either one or both of us was sterile.

Apparently not. Also, how the hell did he figure I was pregnant before I did? I suppose I have been throwing up more often recently, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Who knows how this unfolded?

Another thing, how dare he have the audacity to enforce an abortion upon me without seeking my consent first? That's not to say I would have necessarily continued with the pregnancy had I been aware of it but I at least deserved the opportunity to make my own informed decisions about it.

This new violation stirred up memories of that night in my room all those weeks ago. My first orgasm, from a rapist. There was discomfort, pain & blood. The lacerations his nails & teeth left on me are still healing. I blocked the event from my mind as it was far too much for me to comprehend but now it has burst forth into my consciousness. I must now confront it. What caused his conventional assault of me to become so animalistic & even erotic? He bit and clawed into me. He licked at my blood. He carved his essence into my walls. My soft white sheets became rich carmine. He vowed I would be his to own. And I came for him. My foolish, fickle body; riddled with carnal desire, climaxed.

Did this mean that I enjoyed it? Not necessarily. I didn't ask to be used & abused. Regardless of what I may wear, act like or look like I AM NOT ASKING FOR SEX. Unless there is a mutual verbal, written or other appropriate agreement between parties the acts are to be considered sexual assault. Not once have I agreed to engage in sexual intercourse with Manny; I've screeched "NO!" and "STOP!" many times. Each attempt to get him to cease this violation has gone unnoticed. I have now resigned myself to this fate. I do not wish for it to happen but I am unfortunately powerless to prevent him. I am afraid, weakened, dejected.

I recently read about a young woman that was raped and managed to reach orgasm, just like myself. Does her climax justify the assault? Certainly not. An orgasm is a mere physically pleasurable event that does not by default imply emotional & psychological peace, pleasure & acceptance.

Do I deserve this though? I honestly don't know. I blame myself for not convincing my father to leave his dangerous work, I blame myself for his death in a strange, warped way. I blame myself for not doing something about Manny's presence in our lives sooner. I blame myself.

I can't say that I deserve to be raped, nobody does. Ever. But I can say that I deserve pain & punishment for all of my transgressions.