I heard some poor woman screaming. I wanted to wake up and go to her, comfort her, give her courage. The more and more I awakened, the more I realized that the screaming was coming from my own mouth. Then I remembered. The dream...THE NIGHTMARE!
I haven't had THE NIGHTMARE for a very long time. I was hopeful that I might NEVER have that night terror again. The darkness of my life experience has cast a long, bitter shadow over my happiness. What good, decent man will ever wish to marry me?
I was just fourteen years young. I was so innocent of human reproduction. I had seen animals in our farm in France. I had no idea that humans also participated in similar experiences. Mama had barely explained to me that women had a time of menses every month. I had no idea how that could connect to the sexual, or even what sexual was.
I try hard not to remember his bloated, evil, face. I don't want to remember his name. There was nothing left of light or goodness in that man. I had been dressed up like the village virgin given to a dragon as a sacrifice. I didn't know that was why Madame LeRouge had me dressed in a lovely white dress. I didn't understand why my hair was carefully brushed, and then curled in soft curls. All that I knew was that Madame LeRouge would not let me leave. She had locked me in to a room in the supposed "Boarding House."
She had initially told me that her place was a Boarding House. I suppose it was in a way. I was allowed to board there. The payment was my body.
Locked into a room I had pounded my hands bloody beating on the door. When I tried to climb out of the window I discovered that it had been nailed in such a way that the shutter could not be opened.
I heard a key turn in the lock of the door. An older man came in the room. At a glance I knew that he was evil. Lust filled his eyes. There was nothing human, nothing caring, left in those eyes. They seemed to be the eyes that the Devil himself would have. Perhaps it was the Devil looking through the man's evil eyes, and his evil purpose.
He began to undress me. I resisted vigorously. He backhand slapped me so hard that I tasted blood. I didn't know until later that he had knocked one of my bottom teeth loose. That calmed me for a moment because I was dazed. Quickly I came back from my shock. I kicked, I screamed, I bit, I fought. This only seemed to excite him.
I will not go any further with the horror of that night, that still reaches to me in nightmares. Suffice it to say that when he left the room I was no longer a virgin. I was beaten, bloodied, and almost unconscious.
Emmy, Madame's illegitimate daughter came to me. She is one of the only ones in this place of evil left with a soul. She gently washed me all over. Then she called Tallelujah to help. The Big Ugly One that works for Madame took off the dress, and underclothing, that were now ripped and bloody. Then Emmy and the Big Ugly put a nightie on me that was soft and warm as a baby chick. That was good because I began to shake. I have never felt so cold in all of my life.
Emmy gently, so gently brushed my hair. Then she rubbed my head with some sort of soft oil. It smelled how I imagine soft would smell. Next she braided my hair in one single braid.
Tallelujah gave me something in a small cup and told me to drink it. I didn't even ask what it was. It tasted vile. It felt good going down. I felt a fiery warmth flooding my body. My anguish seemed dulled by this liquid. It wasn't that I didn't hurt anymore. I hurt everywhere. I just didn't really care, about much of anything.
I had been sobbing the entire time they worked on me. Emmy now climbed into bed with me. She told Tallelujah to climb in on the other side. They snuggled me warm between them. At first I protested. Human contact seemed dark and evil after my rape. Soon their warmth, and the warmth of the liquid smoothed me into unconsciousness.
How I long for a time when the evil of that night will have no more power to take my peace. It no longer impacts my conscious mind, but my unconscious mind seems as vulnerable to that darkness as I was that dreadful night.
I have thought that I should never write about that place of horror. I don't want anyone to ever know what it was like. Yet somehow writing about it, even though it forces me to re-live it, also takes some of the venom away from my soul. After writing about it, I realize that I will overcome. There will come a time when I no longer dream that pain, or only dream about it very rarely.
What a blessing it would be to awaken from that dream to the loving arms of a man. Ironic, since it was the evil arms of other men that took my peace of mind. Yet, just from knowing Blake Calkin, I remember that there are other types of men. Kind men, that would NEVER cause harm or pain.
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