The accountant my mum married was not content with just her. He started looking at me the wrong way when I was twelve, and things progressed rather rapidly from there. At first, it was just touching and name-calling. He kept saying that I was nothing but a slut. He said I was just a little bitch who was asking for it. He convinced me that no one would ever believe me if I tried to tell them what was happening because while I was just a troubled kid, he was a well-known pillar of the community. He said they would never take my word over his. He also told me that my mum would never forgive me if I said anything. He said she would want to throw me out on to the streets, and then I would end up homeless and alone. He excelled at intimidating me. I was really scared and very young, so, of course. I believed him.
Not long after my thirteenth birthday, the situation finally came to a head.
I glanced at the clock to find that it was nearly ten. I’d been having a tough time sleeping ever since Alan started paying so much attention to me. I’d been growing more afraid of him every day, and I didn’t know what to do. Even though he had left me alone at night up to that point, I couldn’t help but worry, especially that night for some reason. Maybe it was because I knew my mum wouldn’t be home for a while yet, so I was alone … with … him. Then I heard footsteps and saw shadows under my door. It looked like he was pacing back and forth. I wanted to do something to fight back, and I wanted it to just be over with. I regretted that last thought the moment my door opened, though. Through squinted eyes, I watched in silent terror as he entered my room and crossed to my bed.
He stared down at me for minutes that felt like hours while I tried my hardest to feign sleep. Then, to my horror, he sat down on my bed and pulled my covers back. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, but I couldn’t block out the sound of his voice. “You should be proud, Ana. You are finally old enough to earn your keep around here. If you please me, things will be much easier for you. You want to please me, don’t you, sweet Ana? It is the least you can do for me after everything I’ve put up with and done for you and your mother, after all. All you have to do is what I tell you, and everything will be just fine.”
Panicked, I started to scream and cry, frantically trying to get away from him. But the harder I tried, the tighter his grip on me became. He held me by my shoulders and shook me hard. As I continued to scream, I noticed the gleam in his eye, and he surprised me by laughing. It was as if my screams made him happy for some reason.
Then his mood abruptly changed. He moved one hand to my mouth to silence me. “Shut up, you ungrateful little bitch! As much as I do love to hear you scream, we wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors, now would we?” With his other hand, he reached under my night-shirt, grabbing and tugging wherever his fingers could find purchase. The mixture of pain and fear caused me to ignore his admonition, and I screamed even louder than before, and this time I didn’t stop. I kept screaming as I used my small hands to try and pry his much larger, coarse ones off of me. He slapped my face, but I didn’t stop, and neither did he. It wasn’t long before he had my arms pinned down. Once done, he threw himself on top of me, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I felt his erection pushing into my leg, and I thought I was going to be sick. I knew what was about to happen, and I knew I couldn’t stop it. He ripped my pajamas apart and started to yank my knickers down. With renewed vigor, I screamed once again, pleading with him as I did.
“No! No! Please don’t do this to me! Please! No!” Then I felt pain and noticed the world around me going dark. I wondered if I was dying.
When my eyes opened next, I was in the hospital, and my mum was crying in the chair next to me. My head was pounding, and I couldn’t figure out what happened or why I was there.
“Mum, what’s going on?” I asked.
She looked up at me, and I could see tears streaming down her face. “One of the neighbors heard you scream. Luckily, the back door was unlocked, so he was able to get inside. He managed to yank Alan off of you before—” A little sob escaped her lips as she continued. “There was a fight, but he managed to get away. The good news is that it’s doubtful he will ever come back.”
She has been right so far. I haven’t seen him since that terrible night. Although the police searched for him diligently, to this day, Alan has yet to be found. He seems to have disappeared right into thin air. So be it. He is a true monster, and the damage he caused has outlasted that single day. I have no doubt that he would be beyond thrilled to know that the effects of what I endured at his hand still haunts me even now.
I suspect that my mum found the whole thing more embarrassing than traumatic, and that is why she just wanted it to all go away as quickly as possible. I think she prefers to pretend it never happened at all. To that end, we moved on as soon as we could—right on to Mum’s next “romantic” adventure.
In addition to all the standard reasons for dating, I believe my mum craved anything that would distract her from me. After all, I was and still am the one reminder she hasn’t been able to banish entirely.
When I stop to really consider my relationship with my mother, I’m left with a cold, empty feeling inside. Why she didn’t put me up for adoption is, quite frankly, a mystery to me. Then, after this horrible thing happened to me, she acted like she was the injured party. I get the feeling that she actually blames me for what happened on some level—as if I somehow encouraged Alan’s behavior. Ever since that night, she has had a special knack for making me feel like I’m in the way of everything—as if I wasn’t meant to be in the first place.
Thankfully, now that I am older, I finally have the freedom to get away from her whenever I want. There’s no reason for me to put up with her shit anymore. In fact, I think I would have left permanently by now if not for my desperate need to be around Jake as much as possible. I just wish my mother was my only link to that memory. Unfortunately, there are still times when I relive what happened that night. To this day, I can’t stand the smell of whiskey because of it.
When my mind finally drifts back to the car, I find that Jake is glaring at me. Does he know about what happened to me? If he does, then that was a pretty low blow—especially coming from him.
“I don’t understand. Why are you so mad? And why do you think I need protection?”
He grits his teeth with a shake his head. “It’s just that men seem drawn to you. You’re like honey to a bee, and you make them crazy.”
I’m stunned by this. I can’t fathom what on earth he means. My stepfather has been my only issue, and I don’t think he even knows about it. I look at him with shock and confusion. “Are you angry with me or something?”
Jake sighs. “No, I’m not angry with you. It’s just—”
“Just what, Jake? What is it you would like me to do? Move out?”
He visibly winces at my comment and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, of course not. Forget I said anything.” Turning, he puts the car in drive, and we make our way back home in awkward silence.
After Jake’s outburst, I quickly start sobering up. I don’t know what to think or how to react when I’m around him. A part of me desperately wants him to look at me the way I look at him. I know that I’m obsessed, but I don’t know what to do about it.