When we wake.

When we wake

Here I am. Sitting. Once again staring at the blank walls surrounding me. I curl up small in my hard backed chair, trying, willing myself, to vanish; to open my eyes and be anywhere but here. When I lift my eyelids again it’s the same sight. The same room. The same nightmare. Because that’s what I’m doing...Living a nightmare. Every sight and smell is unreal. This can’t be happening. No, not again. Please Not again.

I'm sitting here...once again waiting. I’m waiting for Him. My eyes chance a look out the miniscule window to where He should be. Where IT will emerge like the uncoiling snake IT is. And he probably smells again of pipe tobacco and soap in his attempts to mask what he really is, his attempts to get clean. He will never be clean again.
I know they can tell, the way everyone looks at me when I walk past. I must keep my head down, protect myself with my hair. If they can’t see my face they can’t blame me
Or yell.
“Look, there she goes. The slut..., The filth...”

This always happens. Every waking moment my mind betrays me and makes me think about Him...and what he's done, will do...is doing.
The feel of his course, rough hands on my tender skin…the promises and sweet talk which end when he's tired of being nice, when he has to fulfil that ' need' and has to use his strength against me, to shut me up.
I must be quiet you see. I can’t scream out, Not that I would, because people would hear, and they'll know what a wicked person I am. They’ll be able to see all my sins...no, I can’t allow that.

I’ll keep quiet. It’ll go away if I don’t think about it. Look at my feet and talk only when spoken to. Sink to that gentle place where no one can see me when He walks into a dinner party and kisses the hand of my mother or talks Shop with my father.
“Such a nice man...always so compassionate...” They sing his praises like the morning lark...so it's obvious who the culprit is...I bite my lip as that thought lingers in the empty room like a bad odour. Outside I can hear female cackling. Some joke Ted heard at the country club...they don’t see me sitting here.
It'll be alright. He'll come and get me soon and then...when it’s all over, when he's finished, I can get dressed, go home and rub away the tainted skin until its fresh again. Until it’s innocent and lovely like the kind of daughter my parents deserve. Until it’s clean like I once was.

My teeth pierce my lip, drawing the metallic taste of my blood to my mouth. I continue to chew and lick it away anyway. The numbers on my watch hit five to ten. I wonder if he's going to be late today. Will he give me the few extra moments sitting or like the buses that drive past will he be right on time to use me as this' Thing’ I’ve become ? A single golden lock falls in front of my eyes. I remember I haven’t washed my hair today. He won’t like that. Perhaps it'll stop him running his fingers through it or pulling me towards him with it.

I can almost feel the leather/paper texture of my torture. It makes my skin crawl...He makes my skin crawl. Not for the first time, I want to yell out and make someone stop him. No not Him, IT. I can't. No one will believe me anyway...They’ll know it’s my fault, because He's such a nice man... kind... (Until his lust takes over)... gentle... (His heavy form bruising my light structure.)...down to earth. (The moan and faraway look he takes every time he touches me). I hate him...I hate myself too...There must be something to fix this...Must be someway...Death?..No, I can’t. I am a sinner. I've committed the same sin over and over. I’ll burn. I’d have stopped going to church, too if my parents would let me. How can I be in the house of God when I am so dirty and sinful? Knowing the sharer of my Sin is sitting in the third row behind me, watching, his icy grey eyes piercing into the back of my head? Hearing my thoughts? He knows. That’s why he punishes me.

I think back to the first time. Looking around, happily interested in his domain, swinging my feet
“Take your top off...” he says in his normal voice His smile lightens his face, but never reaches those eyes.
I do so. After all, he’s an adult, a nice man a friend of the family, my dad’s golfing buddy. He's known me since I was born. The commandments boom in my head. ‘Respect your elders ‘.
How strange his hands felt as they caressed my body. I remember shivering as his hands moved stealthily lower and lower. Still the same smile on his face, still talking to me in that cheerful manner. He gave me a lolly “You’ve been a good girl..." he said as I left. As I got older he stopped telling me I was a good girl. Just said “All right, see you later.” A different man from the thing that had His hand forcing down on my face drawing tears to my eyes. A different person from the one who told me to shut up as he performed.
“Now shh, don’t you make a sound, they'll find out how naughty you are, and they'll have to see you being punished. You don’t want them to see you being punished, do you? " He spoke in a dangerous monotone. A shake of the head was all he needed. The memory rockets about in my brain. I have a head ache. It starts me thinking. About whether or not I should tell my parents. But then they would know...And I couldn’t let them know.
They think I’m going through a phase. That’s why I’m so quiet. And because of this phase, I’ve stopped speaking to people. Stopped eating as much, apart from my lips.
So when He told them He would talk with me...See if He could get to the bottom of it, they were glad...shook hands. Told Him how they were at their wits end, didn’t know what to do with me. Had other worries, stock exchange, corporate meetings, and the maids breaking china.

So I find myself sitting here. Always the same spot. Same cold, unforgiving chair, much like His eyes. Waiting for Him.
The clock beeps as the hour is reached. Sure enough, I see Him. The door opens and He walks out. His eyes lock onto mine. I shudder under His glare. He’s right on time as always. He pauses to chat with the cackling females at the desk. They laugh.
“Oh you...”.He's taking longer than normal...
A heavy sweat breaks out on my forehead and armpits. I feel it trickle down my torso. All I want to do is open my eyes and it to be over. A nightmare gone forever at the dawn of the waking world.
I shut my eyes tight... blocking out the sight the sound.
I hear heavy footsteps. My father knows! He’s come to rescue me. To be my knight and save me from the evil serpent’s lair. To forgive me...
The door clicks open. At the same time, my eyes do. It's Him.
“Come with me, “He says in a cheerful voice. A voice full of friendship and concern, nothing more. The women look with silly semi-friendly smiles as I pull myself from the chair and follow, my body on auto pilot.

The nightmare climbs towards its climax. The point where I long to wake up approaches. To sit up in bed to find it is over and unreal, just a figment of my imagination.

‘Please. .’ I think
He stops at the door and motions me inside. Everything fades to a dull outline of reality.

‘Please... Someone…’
He picks up my file from the receptionists hand. The point arrives; I close my eyes willing the scene to go away.

‘ ..Please…’

I practically yell inside my head, begging fate for the nightmares end. I take a deep breath as He gives them one last anecdote, steps into the room and turns his back towards me, adjusting his stethoscope he closes the heavy door with a smile and a definite SNAP.




‘Someone, Wake me up…… ‘