A few minutes pass and then he breaks the silence. “Olivia.”
I ignore him and continue with myI’m fast asleepploy, a ploy that is clearly not working when he continues to speak.
“Baby, please, answer me?” his pleading tone almost breaks my resolve to remainasleep.
When I don’t respond he sighs then rolls over, towards me. He wraps an arm around my middle that enables him to pull me back into his body where he holds me and nestles his face into my hair and sniffs.
“Olivia, I love you and I’m sorry for hurting you. I just wanted to protect you, keep you safe from this, as much as I could for as long as I could.”
I remain motionless and silent.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, is this what we’ve come to? Me begging while you ignore me and pretend to be asleep, do you think I’m that stupid that I don’t know you’re awake? You forget, Livy, I know your body better than you do so I know when you’re asleep!”
My silence is resolute now. I daren’t speak because my pretence is out in the open and I am crying the first of many silent tears at the words he’s just uttered, their meaning and the memories they evoke.
Lying deadly still I pretend that nothing and no-one can wake me, that somehow this will all be okay. A small snore like sound echoes around me and even I am convinced of its authenticity, but it seems I am convincing nobody else.
I feel a chill over my body as the covers are pulled back to reveal me in my tightest and most uncomfortable pyjamas, but these are my safest pyjamas, the hardest to remove.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asks but I ignore him because I am ‘asleep’. I am willing myself to remain still and not to give myself away.
The buttons on my pyjamas are being undone, one, two…the third one sticks, too tightly stretched to be opened with ease. The fingers pulling at it, attempting to free the button from its confines are too big and are getting frustrated, so much so that they tire of this game. Hands grip each side of my pyjama top and pull so that the button flies off with the force used.
“That’s better,” he says, and I can hear the smile spread across his face and then a finger strokes my nipple, first one and then the other.
I hate my body for doing this. Why does it give him the pleasure of responding? My nipples are hard and pointy now and I hear him groan in satisfaction. Maybe if I lie here very still, he will go away. I know he won’t, but I hope. What if I roll over and curl into a ball, like a sleeping kitten, will he leave then? No, never. Tonight, I will continue the charade of my sleep and hope this new tactic of mine will at least encourage him to get this over with quickly, perhaps he will allow me to ‘sleep’ until he is done and then simply cover me up and leave.
A hand strokes back down my body and settles at my waistband. With an internal discussion I am telling myself to remain calm, to keep still so as not to give myself away. There’s a short pause before his second hand joins the first and then my trousers are being pulled from me. The front is lowered first, to where my hair is, there’s quite a lot of it now, and I hate it. Someone told me you can shave it, but I’m not allowed to, I don’t even have a razor. I am being rolled so that the back of my trousers can be pushed down to reveal my bottom and then he lets me fall before pulling them from me.
“That’s better, darling,” he says and I want to cry, but if I cry he will know I am not asleep and then my lie will be punished so I remain where I am, on my front with my bottom bare.
“Now, what do we think the good Lord has in mind for you tonight?” I know he isn’t asking me, and the good Lord? I don’t believe in him anymore. If he existed, he wouldn’t allow me to suffer this.
I think back to church on Sunday when we were told about children’s suffering…suffer the little children, that’s what Jane, one of the older girls told us. Jane believes in God, more than any other girl I know, she sounds like Raymond when she talks…I wish I felt as she does because then maybe this would be okay, maybe it would stop or at least it wouldn’t hurt so much.
The bed moves beneath me and I know that he is on the bed now, but he hasn’t ‘woken’ me yet. I am scared that he is going to do something different, something worse because I am ‘asleep’ and yet I am more scared of being punished if I make it known that I am only pretending.
He rolls me so that I am on my back and then with my ankles in his hands he pushes them out, opening my legs. Sickness is hurting my tummy now, I think it’s vomit and fear. I send a silent prayer to the God I don’t believe in, begging him not to make me sick or I will be punished for that too. My inner thighs have hands on them now and they are being pushed apart roughly and I tense, just a little, will he notice I wonder and then he speaks.
“Have you finished ignoring me, young lady? You should stop pretending to be asleep right now or I am going to have to punish that sweet little bottom of yours? Do you think I’m stupid, that I don’t know you’re awake?” He laughs and I feel tears escape my still closed eyes. “I know your body better than anyone, I know when you’re asleep,” he says, and my tears are accompanied with a sob as I am rolled over to bare my bottom for my lying punishment.
Chapter 51
Mason
Tonight has to be the worst of my life. Any earlier fuck-ups pale compared to this one, the one that saw my girl lying on her side, curled up and pretending to be asleep. She didn’t scream or shout, nor did she tear a strip off me meaning this is bad, really bad.
I know she is upset because I lied, didn’t trust her with information rather than what I didn’t tell her. I console myself with the thought that I haven’t lied as such, I simply didn’t tell her everything I knew and allow myself a very small smile.
My smile is short lived as I remember her crying, almost silently as she allowed me to hold her, although I think she only permitted me to do that so she could maintain the façade of sleep. I am more miserable than I knew was possible, miserable and lonely despite not being alone. I need my girl back, properly.
My own thoughts are scattered as she begins to tense in my arms and then thrashes around, crying and calling out incoherently. She is asleep for real now meaning she is dreaming, having a nightmare and it’s a bad one judging by the feral cry she has just released while her arms and legs are flailing and lashing out.
I feel useless as I release her to flick on the light and see her tearstained face before attempting to wake her. Gently, I begin to tap her shoulder, shaking her as I call her name, the volume getting louder and louder until I am almost shouting and my shaking of her is becoming more forceful. Eventually her eyes fly open, but I’m still not convinced she is truly awake as she sobs and cries whilst scurrying away, crawling up the bed begging and pleading for forgiveness and for it to stop.
“Olivia, baby.”
If she doesn’t come to soon, I will be crying too. She is in agony, emotional and physical, although the physical is only in her dream like state, but clearly it feels totally real to her. I place a hand on each of her shoulders and shake her as I call to her again. Suddenly she seems to focus and sees me, but she still can’t cope with everything that’s happened in her sleep, in her head and I fear in her past. Her breathing is becoming more erratic and her crying seems to compromise her normal breathing whilst exacerbating this panicking attempt at it.
