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Fear
By: Her Bessiness

The dictionary definition of fear is “a feeling that something unpleasant may happen” I would say this doesn’t quite cover it. How many people have ever been truly afraid? Very few, most people have had minor fears, how many have been terrified, scared to move, to talk, to eat. Fear can be irrational, but if you take the moments when we are truly terrified, then we see the truly abhorrent side of human nature. This is a story about fear, very real fear, about how it wrecks and destroys everything. This is my definition of fear

Charlie was happy. Life was amazing. She was in love, she was doing well at school and everything was going perfectly. To top off what had been a perfect year, she was going on holiday. She wasn’t necessarily sure where yet, but she knew it would be somewhere beachy, expensive. As she sat and read the newspaper she caught sight of an article about a girl who had been raped. She read through it and vaguely aware of thinking that something like that could never happen to her. She pitied the girl mentioned but it went no deeper than that. She thought that the girl had probably led him on, been asking for it. In conclusion she decided it was more than likely her fault. It was getting quite late so she turned off her mobile, turned off her lights, and as she went to draw the curtains, paused for a moment to consider the stars. They were without a doubt beautiful. She gazed up at them and noticed their reflections in the lake in the back garden and their light combined with the light from the moon combined and flickered over the water it was positively resplendent, the lights shone across her face and lit up her blue eyes. The sad thing was, she took all this for granted, her life, the stars, her everything. She didn’t think she was particularly lucky, she didn’t really care, but she noticed the stars.

She was setting up for her holiday at last. She sat on the plane, first class, and glanced at the man sitting across from her. He was obviously wealthy, though not particularly good-looking. Nevertheless Charlie flashed him a brilliant smile and he of course smiled back. She had forgotten about him for the moment. She settled back and dreamt of her boyfriend. They were the perfect match, everyone agreed. He was well, captivating. Everyone who met him wanted to know him better. He was just one of those people who was renowned for being an amazing person, just spending time with him was rewarding. She thought of her friends Katie and Louise, of the party she was having when she got back. She couldn’t wait. She arrived at her hotel within a couple of hours and, not wanting to waste a minute ran to her room chucked her bags on the bed and grabbed her bikini. Ten minutes later and changed, she hit the pool. As she quickly made friends and arrangements to check out the hotel club that night she suddenly spotted the stranger from the plane, sitting by the pool and watching her. A touch unnerved she made her excuses pulled on a shirt and headed indoors with a book. Kane and Abel by Jeffery Archer, one of her favourite books without doubt. She slipped on her earphones and the soothing sound of New Born by Muse engulfed her.

She was just thinking how, actually contrary to the obvious expectation she was inclined to side with Kane. Suddenly she felt a prickling sensation sending shivers down her back. She turned to find that the man was staring at her again. Aware that he had followed her she turned her back on him and within minutes was immersed in her book, living the story. Oblivious to him walking up behind her she was startled when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to find “Mr Plane” scrutinising her. Squirming at the awkwardness of it she removed her headphones and casually wondered what he wanted. As he extended his hand and inquired after her name she realised that he most certainly wasn’t British though where he came from as far as she could tell was anyone’s guess. She replied divulging her name but only that and in a short enough manner that is should have served to deter further conversation. However he persisted asking for her age. Glancing wistfully at her book which obviously had to be abandoned she replied with as much courtesy as she could muster that she was 15. He looked shocked. This irritated Charlie somewhat. Yes she knew she look old for her age. She’d heard it all before and although this would normally be taken as a compliment considering the situation it merely served to enhance her already evident irritation. Despite this she had to sit through his shocked exclamations, of how she looked older, of how old he had supposed her to be. She sat through it politely for a while but soon cut him short asking for his age, 21.

Wondering warily where this conversation was headed, and if it were, as she now suspected, headed towards a suggestion of a date, how best to deter whatever romantic feelings were being directed at her. However having been momentarily distracted by these thoughts she tuned her mind and rejoined the conversation. “Whom are you staying here with?” said he. “My parents” said she. Having asked who he was staying with she was surprised to hear that he was there not just with his family, parents, and little brother etc, but with his fiancée. Having heard this she relaxed a little, thinking what any normal person would think, that this was perfectly innocent and she had over-reacted. They talked for a while and she mentioned her boyfriend, he talked about his fiancée a little more. This is why she was completely astounded as he leant into to pull her. Incensed she slapped him snatched up her book and stormed out. “How dare he”, she thought, “how fucking dare he!” she stormed into the next door games room and laughed as she watched a couple of kids, about 8 years old, fighting over the table football. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. Spinning round she shouted “will you leave me the fuck alone” slightly distressed she decided to go to her room where he’d finally leave her alone.

She walked to the lifts, realising they were both on the eighth floor swore profusely and headed for the stairs. Very angry, she didn’t hear him following her, didn’t realise he was behind her, that is until he grabbed her by the ankle causing her to spin and fall down the stairs, cutting and bruising her back. She hit her head and momentarily blanked out. As she came round she realised all was not right. She forced her eyes open and he was sitting on her shoving his tongue into her mouth with one hand between her legs. It took a couple of seconds for her to realise what was happening. She bit his tongue but he ignored her and carried on. She suddenly became aware of the fact that her bikini bottoms had disappeared and that she couldn’t move her arms. He was holding her down. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry. Struggling she realised he had moved his mouth. With in a second she was screaming. No one used the stairs, no one could hear her. He put his head between her legs, which he had forced apart with his knees, by this point she was crying, begging. He just laughed. He moved his tongue and began to thrust his fingers in and out of her. She’d been fingered before, but this hurt, every thrust felt like someone had stabbed her. It was as he took his cock out of his trunks, that she realised he wanted to rape her. Terrified she screamed again. She was choking on his tongue now back in his mouth.

He went to rape her and she managed to free a leg, to ram it up between his legs. He doubled up in pain and she kicked him again. Finally he had stopped but she couldn’t hold back the tears. She looked around and caught sight of her bikini bottoms a floor down. It may sound hard to believe but this was the worst part. As she walked down the steps semi-naked she felt more naked that she had ever felt in her life. As she stooped to pick up her bottoms with him watching, it was then that she realised that he had taken her finally dignity. Putting them on, she walked down floor after floor to her room. Stunned, unable to speak, she walked into her room, and cried. Stripped off and stepped to the shower, the scalding hot water burnt, and tormented the cuts on her back. She scrubbed and scrubbed, as if trying to wash away whatever she was feeling, wishing she could wash away it all. She felt sick. She jumped out of the shower and threw up, again and again. Jumped back into the shower feeling dirty, she felt so unclean. Wondered what she had done wrong why it had happened to her.

About half an hour later she began to think about what happened next. Then she began to cry, pitiful jerky sobs. She never cried. She thought about her mum and her dad, her boyfriend, her friends. Who could she tell? Here there was no-one. She couldn’t tell her parents, just couldn’t, it was the first day of their holiday, it’d ruin it. God she needed someone so badly. For the first time in her life Charlie felt completely alone. She had never felt so isolated in her life. Then her practical side began to take over. How would she explain her back to her parents, she decided on the truth, or part of it. She had fallen down some stairs that was all. She walked to the door, went to open it and realised she couldn’t. She was terrified. Slowly she swung the door open and glanced furtively out. It slammed shut again. It took ten tries before she set foot outside, then she sprinted all the way to the lifts. Realising no one else was there, she sprinted back.

She tried again 15 minutes later. Luckily there was a family there. She heaved a sigh of relief and stepped into the lift. On the way down, she had a sudden realisation she had 8 days left of this holiday and he was still there. She collapsed against the wall sobbing. The strangers tried there best to pretend not to notice, it was obvious to the world she wanted to be alone. Once again that feeling of filthiness returned, she walked out, and jumped straight in the pool, realising she had forgotten to change her bikini. She saw him immediately across to the right, with who she presumed was his fiancée he smiled and winked. Once again she found a bathroom and threw up. Regaining her composure, realising that this was her last chance at dignity and knowing she had to pretend it had never happened to avoid telling her parents she held her head high, and walked over to tell her parents that she had fallen down some stairs.

There, that is my definition of fear; this isn’t fake it happens, more often than anyone can or would want to believe. That isn’t the end of the story, not even close, it doesn’t just end with the act, that repulsive horrendous act of violence that took one man and one young girl, only half an hour of her life yet afterwards Charlie went to pieces, she spent the entire holiday avoiding a man who’d tried to rape her, she met him again, up close, he approached her and tried to apologise put his arms round her and told her to go to his room so he could apologise properly. Met him once but saw him many times. Everywhere she went he was there smiling, jeering, thinking about her, like that, and every time she saw him her mind flashed back to what had happened. For the next 6 months every time she closed her eyes she was transported back to that staircase where she relived the experience over and over again, every tiny detail as real as the moment it took place. Nightmares are one thing, but when they are based on reality, and so vivid that one wakes up feeling as degraded and filthy as at that moment in reality when they first occurred, every single morning they become unspeakable. Terrified to close her eyes in case she travelled back, in case next time she couldn’t stop him, yet barely able to keep them over, life became terrifying. Half a year lived in fear, living between the moments, woken at three in the morning by alarmed friend who heard the movement, followed by whimpers, by cries, by screaming. Half a year with parents who haven’t quite forgiven you for ruining their holiday by being sullen and ungrateful and who can’t even begin to comprehend that this is more than simple teenage rebellion, but exhaustion caused through the unbelievable fear that she might be raped in her sleep. Half a year where once a month a nightmare would go beyond reality and the inevitable would happen and he’d finally get wanted he wanted. A year without closure, a year realising she didn’t even know his name. Charlie’s story never did make the papers, when she returned to her room and found the discarded article and remembered her previous judgement, she wept, wept for what had happened for what was to come and for the girl in the paper. She never did tell her parents, but she did change, for worse, she became less outgoing, less friendly, something most of her friends would never accept or understand, for better, now she no longer had them she appreciated the stars, or what they had been…

Article Source: http://journal.ilovephilosophy.com

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