With the cupboard bare I shut the door disappointed, then as I turn to re-enter the lounge I jump and squeal when I find a man before me. A man I hoped I would never have to face again, yet here he is, Raymond Daniels, my stepfather, my abuser. I am rooted to the spot and although my head is telling me to run, I don’t. I stand there, staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.
“It would be polite to offer tea at least. We have much to discuss.” I recognise the undercurrent of a threat hiding beneath his tone and the cold cut of his eyes as he reaches for the kettle that he offers me.
I have no idea how to react or behave so put the kettle on and although I have had a couple of nightmares that featured Raymond’s reappearance he never appeared like this, in my home so I am unsure who is most amazed when I ask, “Will you take it black? I don’t have any milk.”
He views me suspiciously so maybe he is most amazed by my polite question. Taking my hand in his he indicates a space on the rug in the lounge.
“Sit! Forget the tea.” His tone is sharp, ignoring my question. Perhaps he thinks I’m likely to poison him in the absence of milk.
Suddenly, I am a teenager again, obediently dropping to the space he is pointing to. He remains standing, over me, making the most of his position, intimidating me, however my intimidation is less than it used to be because I now recognise his tactics.
“What do you want?” I sound braver than I feel. Even with my knowledge of his tricks and methods he still scares me, and I have no doubt he could easily overpower me physically but hope and pray to God and any higher beings I might summon that he won’t.
His eyebrows arch in what I think is surprise at my bravery or stupidity. “Somebody’s feeling rebellious. I hope you remember where that usually gets you,” he threatens.
I can’t deny the fear coursing through my veins and yet I still manage to remain defiant. “If you lay a finger on me, I will scream rape while there is breath in my body and when I finish shouting that I will shout systematic child abuse, now what the fuck do you want?”
He considers me and then with a smirk I would dearly love to remove with a knife he shrugs.
“I assume you’ve seen your doctor on the news?”
I nod.
“That saves some time. Conrad is obviously fighting all charges, as are the other associates who have become embroiled in this.”
“Why? He is guilty. We all know that; you, him, the other associates and me,” I wonder if this is all bluff because earlier indications suggested Mathers was going with a guilty plea unless Raymond doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.
“Olivia, I am trying really hard to be patient with you, but you are trying me, and I will only be tried for so long. Maybe you’ve allowed your bible studies to slip. Colossians chapter three, verse twenty,” and then he paraphrases for me. “Children should obey their parents in everything to please the Lord.”
I have no problem with anyone’s beliefs, but I hate fucking quoters, mainly as this was all I heard for many years, bible quotes that told me to shut the fuck up and do as I was told. Quotes that were misquoted to put me in the wrong and excuse the things that were done to me by the people that did them.
“What about Proverbs twenty-two six?” I immediately launch into my own quote about training a child up in the way he should go in order to ensure that as an adult he won’t depart from it. I see his face harden but still, I continue, “Which to my mind means that the way you trained me up was clearly not the way I should go.”
He is clearly unhappy with my quote and what he will view as my insolence. His expression is hardening and the anger in his eyes is glittering with the threat of danger.
“As you’re so keen on Proverbs, try twenty-nine fifteen, Olivia, the rod will give reproof and wisdom, however when left to itself a child will bring shame to his mother, meaning I was clearly too soft with you, but that can be rectified. You should come home, although it will be a new home, to repent, pay for the countless sins you have been party to since leaving your family. The stench of your sins is in every pore of your body and this damned bordello.” If anyone else had called my home a bordello I would laugh. I don’t, not with Raymond. “Your mother is well, in case you’d wondered, which you clearly hadn’t. Now, down to business, and remember this isn’t up for debate. Some of our church friends may get drawn into this circus of criminal charges and as such they may be coerced, James chapter three verse eight. Unless you’ve already spoken to the police, I do hope not Olivia. That would be most unfortunate.”
I could scream at his reference to that particular quote, another one of his former favourites that saw him talking of taming my tongue, my evil tongue that was full of poison.
“Raymond.” I refuse to call him by any term of endearment. I ignore his reference to the police, comforted by the knowledge that he doesn’t know I have indeed spoken to them. “I have no clue what you want from me. I have no desire to become involved in any of this ever again. I have made a life and there is no place in it for you, the church, Dr Mathers or any associates.”
“You just remember that should the police call. Nothing untoward ever came your way. Everything you experienced was because of you and the pure evil that runs through you.”
I stare disbelievingly that he might believe what he’s saying. That anything that happened to me had anything to do with me or any evil within me. The only evil at work was him and his associates.
“Is Scott okay?” I’m suddenly concerned for my brother.
He just shrugs, offering no words before returning to his reason for being here, my silence. “I found you easily, and I know you are whoring yourself to a very wealthy man.” And here it comes, a way to fuck me over, again. “If you were to become involved with the police investigation, I think I would feel obligated to reveal this man’s personal tastes for very young boys and girls, along with photographic evidence to support it,” he threatens.
I am poleaxed by his accusations against Mason because it’s not true, it can’t be. My pain and confusion amuses Raymond, just like it always did.
“Think about it.”
Staring blankly, I miss my stepfather coming towards me, only realising he is there when he forcibly flips me over and is between my thighs that he has forced apart. Closing my eyes, I silently pray to something, someone, that he doesn’t do this to me, that he doesn’t break all the things within me I have repaired since he last did this to me.
In my dreams of this moment, meeting him again, I always fight and now I am lying face down sobbing as old, familiar and frightening hands touch me, holding me down, keeping me in the position I fear most, the one that leaves me most helpless. My leggings and plain, white satin pants are being pulled down slightly, beginning to expose my behind as another sob breaks from my mouth, catching in my throat.
“You just remember, Olivia. I call the fucking shots. When I say you keep your mouth shut you do it or you will be punished, you and the boyfriend who enjoys what is mine,” he snarls. “This remains our secret and I ensure the undeniably incriminating pictures of your boyfriend remain under wraps, otherwise you will find them being circulated in all the wrong places.”
