One Step Closer

Rose's barn...

Rose closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself on the roof of the barn, the sun shining, a warm wind blowing, her eyes seeking out Christopher.  Nothing happened. 

She could feel the wind, alright, but it was a chilly wind and there was no sun – or even the moon – to warm her.  For a moment she wondered if she would ever be warm again.  Violent tremors were wracking her body.  Surely this could not be happening to her again. 

What did Vezzini always say in The Princess Bride?  Ah, that was it:  Inconceivable!  Apparently she didn’t know its meaning any better than he had, because it was, indeed, happening again.

 She wanted to crawl out of her skin as Jeff’s hands groped her and his mouth bit her neck, kissed her face, moved to her breasts.  She couldn’t stop the tears falling from her eyes or the frightened whimpers that escaped her mouth in between pitiful cries of, “no, please” and “stop”.  Nothing moved him to cease his assault on her.  In fact, her tears and pain seemed to encourage him to act even more boldly. 

He pulled her shirt off her shoulders – please don’t ruin this shirt, she thought to herself.  I got this shirt for my trip to see Christopher.  I wore it when we went to the lake…Oh, Lord, where is he now??? 

Jeff’s hands pulled her bra straps off her shoulders.  His mouth bit down on her breasts as his right hand slid down inside her pants.  She tried to pull away, but he bit harder and pulled her closer to him with his left hand.  She became still, stiff as a board, aware of nothing but his moaning and her whimpers…and the pain and degradation of what was happening.

How did this start?  She asked herself, trying to focus on anything other than Jeff pushing her backwards, his hands and mouth everywhere on her body like some nightmare-world creature.  We went to dinner.  We talked, for the five millionth time, about the fact that this relationship – in any romantic sense – was over.  I told him that it wasn’t working with us being friends, either.  I told him he needed to choose someone else and just move on, that he deserved someone who would really love him and that I wasn’t it.  I had tried to help him defeat his demons but it had been useless and he had simply abused me…for years.  He had taken the whole conversation well, and I was quite pleased with the outcome.  Until now.  I brought him home.  He got his things out of the car – his beer and his leftovers from dinner.  I got out to check the passenger side headlight to see if it was actually out.  It was, dammit.  He’d asked me for a hug.  Lulled into a false sense of security by the pleasant-ish tone of the evening, and the safety of the car idling beside me, I said yes.  Ah, that was the mistake.  He had hugged me for a moment then had begun kissing me, forcing his tongue into my mouth almost viciously.  When I tried to pull away and asked him to stop, he increased the pressure of his arms and his lips.  So, that’s how I ended up here with this asshole again….Will I never learn??

 Jeff continued to move her slowly backwards, away from her car.  At first she didn’t realize his objective, just kept crying, and begging, and looking for a moment to escape.  At last he had maneuvered her behind the huge oak tree in his mother’s yard, and he tripped her so she fell to the ground, out of sight of the house.  As her head hit the ground her face turned toward the left and she could just see her car, safe, warm, idling, waiting for her, just on the other side of the tree.  She could hear it humming, could hear Boyce Avenue’s acoustic version of “Bleeding Love” floating toward her. 

Christopher!!!  She screamed in her head. 

 Just then Jeff jerked her shirt up and bit down hard on her right breast.  She cried out, again asking him to stop – although there was a part of her brain that begged her to just shut up and get it over with so she could go home sooner.  That part of her seemed to believe that if she was just still it would be over and she could forget it quicker.  He put his hand down her pants again, attempting to stimulate her manually, but she was as dry as a bone; her whole body felt like it was shriveling up into a raisin.

 Frustrated, Jeff pulled her pants down without unzipping them, nearly ripping the waistband.  Again Rose begged him to stop.  Again he did not.  His mouth moved down to cover hers and she jerked her head away, slamming her face into the ground.  He climbed on top of her, and began to dry hump her.  It hurt.  A lot. 

Even angrier (was he angry? or was he just determined?), Jeff slid off her.  He was flaccid.  Leaning on her with his legs and groping her breast with one hand, he used his other hand to pull her hand to his penis.  He placed her hand on his limp dick and barked at her, almost pleadingly, “Help me, dammit!” 

Long years of abuse and stupidity caused her to obey him for about five seconds.  Then she pulled her hand away and said through her tears, “Fuck you!” 

With that he shoved his right hand inside of her.  This hurt more than she thought possible, and she cried out, “Stop, please! That really hurts!” 

In answer, he leaned over her and smiled, then growled savagely, before continuing on.  Oh, shit.  Why did he have to growl at me like that?  How does he know that is my private joke with Christopher?  I love it when he growls at me.  Is Jeff going to ruin everything in my fucking life?? 

She cried out in pain again as his hand moved quicker and harder inside her.  She realized that he was using his legs to hold her down, attempting to stimulate her with one horrible hand and masturbating with the other.  Nothing was going as he wanted it to.  Giving up on the dual stimulation, he pushed her flat down again and moved himself between her thighs.  She covered her eyes and sobbed.  He moved down her body and put his mouth on her vagina.  With the first swipe of his tongue, Rose went over the edge of hysteria and screamed, “Nooooooo!!!”  while simultaneously kicking him in his shoulder. 

Suddenly, it was over.  He looked like someone who had been slapped and had just awakened from a dream.  Rose sagged with relief and cried even more, trying to slide herself along the grass and away from him.

 Softly he said, “Wait, Rose.” 

Almost lovingly and tenderly, he pulled her underpants and trousers toward her and tried to begin putting them back on her.  She jerked away from him, saying, “Don’t fucking touch me!  Just get away from me!!” 

She scrambled up off the ground and pulled on her clothes.  She hurried to her car, still idling, still waiting patiently for her; only by then “One Step Closer” by Linkin Park was playing on her cd player. 

Too fucking right I’m about to break!  she thought to herself. 

Jeff followed her to the car, apologizing, saying he had wanted to make her hate him so that their separation would be easier on her.  She looked at him, dumbfounded.

“You are a fucking idiot”, she told him.  “I already hated you, could have gone my whole life without this shit.  Dammit, I cannot believe you did this crap to me AGAIN!  You got what you wanted:  I hate you!” 

Still crying, she threw the car into “drive” and peeled out of his driveway. 

 She didn’t look back.


3 Responses to “One Step Closer”

  1. Holy fuck, thats the longest text ive ever read from a computer monitor without taking my eyes off. I hope youre ok rose. Im so sorry you had to go thru that. Enlist inmediately in a self defense class at the nearest women empowerment militant feminist league in you area. Do not ever talk to jeff ever again. Not even to warn him if the huns are comming. HUGE undescribable hug and so much good vibe your way. You poor rose.

    Limp dick son of a bitch.

    Also get a dog. And get involved in traning him. (ask the fem militant league, they probably know an obedience school)

    I hope youre ok, im dumbstruck. Dont worry rose it will all be ok. Im so sorry youre hurt. Have some chocolate many showers and maybe some soup.

    BIG HUG rose.

  2. ah, george, my virtual valentine and true are very kind and wonderful. while this is definitely a true (sad to say) tale, it happened last april. jeff was my first husband (stupidly married him when i was 18 because michael – yes, the same one from now – told me to and i needed a way to escape some abuse that was being perpetrated by a relative. stupidly i got involved with him again twenty years later cuz i thought he had grown up…i was wrong (as usual). i’ll post one or two other stories on here about him and then you’ll know how truly awful he really was. is.

    and believe me, i will never speak to him again. i got a protective order against him so that he couldn’t speak, see, etc., either me or my son for the next two years. he hasn’t bothered me since. thank goodness.

    i am so …touched that you are so worried about me. i was looking through some old writings and thought this was pretty powerful. glad you agree.

    and i hate the limp dick son of a bitch, too, george. i truly fucking do. but i don’t hate you. you’re a really cool, excellent friend. and i appreciate you.

  3. peorge (you said i could use that one, too, remember?) – posted “street of dreams” and “falling down the stairs…again”. just a couple of examples of my life with that man back in the day…

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