Fan Fiction ❯ Finding Forever ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Once known as The Insanities….Completely original… half reminds me of my own love only not quite that violent… just sorta the search for only to find something terrible… guess that's truth for you.

 

Anyway, contains plenty of violence, some sex *though I wouldn't consider very descriptive* Overall I'd call this a Transgressive piece, which by DeviantART terms means: Transgressive literature pushes the boundaries of what society considers socially acceptable. It's violent, can involve sexual deviancy or drugs—basically it's down right nasty.

 

I would call this story something that really doesn't have any boundaries. Please also, if you think this story could never happen, no it might not happen in the order I've written. It may not even happen to one entire person over the span of their life, but I can assure you, all of it has happened, somewhere in this world before.

 

May I cordially present, the life of a human, Finding Forever.

 

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She was the kind of mother who'd tell you there was a monster under your bed without even checking, and that if you weren't good and went to sleep right away, that monster would eat you. Ironic how I had befriended that monster now, isn't it? My father wasn't even married to her. He was rowdy, going to bars, getting into fights, then heading to the next bar until he wound up stone drunk. He'd come home at the crack of dawn, swearing and yelling loudly, kicking over furniture. My mother would storm downstairs hit him around the head, yelling back. Father would throw a few punches then leave Mother unconscious on the floor.

 

That's when I'd quiver against the armchair I used for a bed in the closet upstairs. Now matter how much I wished myself away, Father always got me. Most called him beautiful or handsome. I called him evil. He was fairly tall, lean but muscular. It seemed as if it took him no effort to lift a grown man over his head and throw the poor soul a few meters. Father had black hair that fell around his face on one side more than the other, it being short in the back. And he had cold blue eyes. Some said at first glance they reminded you of a clear summer day after the rain. But when I saw them they reminded me of a frozen blue ocean imprisoned under ice several feet thick. It was impossible to escape once you were trapped.

 

The door slammed open on its hinges, barely hanging on, denting the wall as it slammed back. I was already crying, silently, huddled in a tight little ball. Even at a tender, innocent age of four, I was a stunning image of my mother. Wavy violet hair, tied back at the moment, bright curious green eyes. Mother's eyes though, weren't curious but hard cut as a heavy emerald refracting light many times. They didn't show the sunshine like mine did, but the storm clouds that raced towards the sun to cover it like a shield over the earth. Father picked me up by the back of my neck, I going completely limp in his grasp. It was useless to struggle. He was growling as he squeezed, harder and harder, until I couldn't breathe. Spots were dancing before my eyes as he loosened his grip.

 

“No,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “you're coming with me.” He marched me downstairs, handling me like a rag doll, his grip still on my neck. I was banged and bounced against the edges of walls, the stairs, the banister, and the door before I was flung roughly inside the trunk of Dad's old car.

 

I waited in darkness, in silence as his car came to life, choking and grumbling before settling down. I felt us pull sharply out of the driveway. Dad drove like a maniac, hitting as high as fifty in a thirty mile an hour speed zone, turning corners at the last minute. Suddenly we stopped, almost as quickly as if we had hit a tree head on. I rolled, in the game of pinball, me being the ball as the engine died. Dad's door slammed. I peeked through the small hole where a tail light was missing. I saw his blue jeans as he walked past the trunk, banging his fist on the door as he passed. He wanted me to stay put. It was a warning that if I did anything, he'd kill me afterwards. Frightfully still, I remained immobilized for as long as a few hours before my father returned. I heard two doors slam before the car came to life again.

 

We had company. We drove a short while before coming to another stop. I remained where I was, even as Dad popped the trunk. He came around, smirking at my emotionless figure.

 

“Brat,” he spat in my face as he dragged me out of his car, closing the trunk, but not all the way as if saying, “You're going back in there in a minute kid.” Our company was a short blonde woman with a large bust, skinny waist and hips equal to her breast size. She was very voluptuous, with full lips, large eyes with heavy lashes. She had on a jacket over her lingerie.

 

“Come on,” Father growled, throwing me on the ground. We were off a path somewhere in the woods, far back it seemed. I stood on short legs, following my father and his woman like a sad little puppy at his heels.

 

“Come on! Don't make me hold your hand!” he ordered. I sped up, tripping as I tried to keep up to the pace of their long legs.

 

We were near a wide view of a huge river, spanning across to view a small island. We were at the top of a steep and rocky, pine covered hill.

 

“Come here ya little bastard,” Father growled roughly grabbing my wrist, jerking me over and slamming my back against the rough bark of a pine tree. He grinned evilly, his breath heavily redolent of alcohol. He wrapped a thin wire he kept in his pocket around me, tying me to the tree, making sure the wire was tight enough to make me bleed, but not deep enough to scar or restrict my breathing or blood flow.

 

“Oh Ku, you're so sadistic!” the woman cooed, leaning against my father's chest as he sat down next to her on the soft pine straw laden ground.

 

“Does that turn you on babe?” he said quietly back. There was no passion in his voice.

 

“Oh yes!” she replied smoothly, draping one finely shaped leg over his arm as he ran a hand up her thigh.

 

“Good.”

 

Father then turned to me saying, “You'd better as hell watch this kid or I'll take out your eyes so you'll never have to blink!” Wide eyed already, afraid to even blink now, I watched as my father commenced to have sex with the woman, pounding into her until she screamed, having no mercy, just as he did my mother. But even after that good half an hour he had of brutally copulating with her, he was back on her, on her back side now, her lingerie torn off, revealing her naked form, her breasts hanging like twin udders from her chest. Father was riding her backside like a bull on the cow she seemed to be. I was scarcely breathing as the scene was filled with moans, soon to be more screaming, muscles contorting, chests heaving. They sounded like a rhinoceros in heat. I blinked once, sweat dripping into my eyes.

 

There was red, everywhere. It poured from her chest; it covered his hands. He was holding her up now, giving me a full view of her, of the hole he'd put through her, revealing her heart that throbbed painfully, pumping blood out of her body instead of through it. Red leaked from her mouth, spilling over her lips. The hole had turned into a slash down through her stomach. Blood mingled with the cum that dripped down her thighs. Her eyes were clouded with lust and death. Father dropped her lifeless body and she landed in an awkward position. His once white shirt was stained with the woman's blood, his hands, slick with it. His face was dotted with the painful color of crimson.

 

“Bitch,” he said softly, kicking her out of the way, getting blood on his shoe. He crouched down to where I was, terrified, eyes wide, petrified against the tree I was bound to. Father pressed a bloody hand against my face, covering my mouth and nose.

 

The coppery scent filled my senses. It was so strong I thought I'd pass out.

 

“Go on, have a drink. I'll bet her blood is sweet. You won't breathe until you do,” Father said. He sounded as if he was trying to show up someone who had slaughtered his ego. He sounded like a pouting kid who was about to get his way no matter what. I hesitated, the putrid stench of blood making me gag. I was starting to suffocate, so the last I could do before passing out was stick my tongue out against his palm with all the difficulties of trying to fit a pregnant woman into a small girl's pants. I was biting my own tongue so hard that I couldn't tell if I was tasting my own blood or the woman's.

 

Satisfied my father left without a word, leaving me to stare at the dead lady. I felt nauseated. I blinked slowly as my father's car was heard in the distance, pulling away. I was out cold for hours. I woke as the sun was three quarters past in the sky, close to setting. The woman's body was cold, stiff and white, the pine and grass stained red and brown with blood. Death was heavy in the air. Ants and birds had already been feeding on the inert body. Father's car came back. He was wearing different clothes now, carrying a trash bag that was already partially filled with something. Grinning at me, he untied me, ordering me to hold the bag open as he sprayed the dead woman with something, killing the ants on her and making her skin a tainted grey. With gloves, he tugged her body meticulously in the bag, tying it and throwing it in the trunk. He returned as I waited for him, kicking over the brush, having added most of it to the bag, covering the rest with a bag he had bought, filled with fertilizer and chemicals that would cover the scent of blood.

 

“Come on brat,” he muttered, heading to his car, throwing me in the back seat by the neck of my shirt. We drove awhile as the sky greyed, turning to night. He stopped long enough to buy himself something to eat before heading home. Mother was gone. Locking me in the closet, I heard Father slam his bedroom door. Finally, I sobbed into my already tear soaked chair, knowing I wouldn't sleep again for days.