A Hunting: From the Periphery Part II by V. Lyn
“Give me a kiss Frenchy” and I gave my favorite uncle a big kiss his head turned quick an I caught him square on the lip everyone laughed. Memories fly about in my head like the thread of a spool that I can not quite grasp… “Come on help me get everyones coat.” Dutifully I followed my uncle my mother sisters second husband into the bedroom. Coats topped the bed in a hill as high as Kilimanjaro. Next I knew I was hurled high a top of them sliding down in a tumble of leather jackets, fox fur and rabbit jackets and camel coats and a litany of scarves that feel like twisting mass of snakes. “You want a french kiss Frenchy” He called me Frenchy because of my lisp…his special name for me one that only he called me. “Ahumm” I bodded my head and lifted my shirt exposing my belly and tugged down the top of my undies. The air he blew across my belly was cold and wet and I squirmed beneath him sliding upward just the way he liked… I wondered years later had my uncle told the candy store man about me… that I was sweet and ripe for the picking… I was a good girl who knew how to keep a secret. Oh you think I might be imagining this that a conspiracy is well fucking far fetched that they don’t talk to gether a network of men who find men just like themselves… That they don’t know one another just from the way they behave around kids…A little too touchy, a little too willing to be around kids…Oh it’s my fault my FUCKING FAULT. Oh Oh I get it I should have had plump brown thighs, stacked they said…NO NOT STOCKY STACKED… Oh I shouldnt have giggled and squirmed huh huh…well fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU….Even now I feel the ache the thrum between my thighs…Do you think people set themselves up for abuse? I don’t but truth be told sometimes we do…Forgive me forgive if you have ever been abused it’s not your fault it was never your fault. But I have to speak my truth and I have to say I put myself at risk later in life playing out the role I felt I was supposed to live.
Shhhh…I feel them…they are giggling…insane with their lust…eyes hooded lips soft…full..Their breathing is quickening, they know children are near…But I watch them even as they watch us and my lips are hard as hard as my heart…They sense me and snarl and then dart away. They KNOW me, they know what I was and now what I am, they want to snicker knowingly at me but the truth is they are afraid afraid that I may reveal their secret and they dart hastily away.
Did you know victims can create an endless cycle of victimization…that may be the greatest of damage the monsters that roam this earth sucking and devouring the innocence can do… Sometimes I think that is the truth sometimes I know that is only the tip of the damage done…Wait oh god wait I am afraid so afraid. Can I stay inside mommy pleeeeasssse I don’t want to go out no can I stay with you mommy right by your side please please I’ll be good I just want to read read read and read some more five six books a week, look at this story I am writing mommy look at this puzzzzzzlllllee I am making ….ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh PLEEEEEEEEEASSSSSEEEEEEEE please please please……I’ll be gooooood I’ll be …
I know I love you too mommy…Mommy bend over I want to whisper something in your ear…”There are predators among us; they dance like ghost at the periphery of our view, drifting quietly in constant watchfulness. I won’t let them hurt you mommy not daddy or my sisters either. I promise mommy I have muscle, I am strong…” Instead I said nothing after all I am a good secret keeper… the best in the world.
“Get me the vaseline hurry.” A panting voice commanded. I feel legs pushing mine apart. I am eleven and FUCKEEEEDDDDD up passed out on my friends bed where we had gone after cutting class. Someone a boy not much older than me is screaming at my friend “Get the grease” he says again and I wonder who he is and why he is pushing my legs apart and I look fearfully at my friend another boy standing with her and she looks at me with fear and revulsion and I wonder why she is not helping me why she is not telling him “GET OFF MY FRIEND” and I wonder why am not saying it either instead of lying their fear and horror freezing me like a rabbit on the asphalt. Later she said “It’s your fault you shouldn’t have gotten so drunk”