Also any resemblence to anyone in real life is mere coincedence. Though events in this story are partially based off experiances of the author.
*Claimers*Stacy Gibbons and all the following charecters are of my creation. Thus my property. Do not plagerize. Please.
USED
Chp.1
She sat there in the back seat of the apple red SUV thinking over the past few days. She had been used in the most primal and base of ways. That man had done it without remorse and enjoyed every moment of it. She felt like a shell that wasn?t worth the time of day. She had been used.
She looked out the tinted window and watched the identical houses of the Rose Day developments pass by. It always puzzled her why anyone would want to live in identical houses with only eight feet between you and your neighbor. It seemed like they were all craving to be part of a stereotype that no one really was. The perfect family.
?Were almost home sweetie.? Her mother looked back and smiled at her from the passenger side seat.
?Home? Do I really have one of those? Am I safe there?? She thought to herself as the apple red SUV pulled into the driveway of the crème colored house labeled 233 Lane C. The electric garage door came to life and rose upwards with the touch of a button. The car glided inside and the garage door closed behind them.
The lights flickered on and already halfway to the door that led to the inside of the house was Fourteen-year-old Stacy Gibbons. The girl who got raped or that?s what the kids at school like to call her. She walked inside the house leaving the door open for her parents. She walked into the kitchen and pored herself a glass of water from the tap. Slowly sipping from the glass, enjoying the taste of the room temperature water gliding down her throat.
Her mother was talking to her but she was ignoring her. She sat the glass down and headed to her room. Where she would crawl under the covers of her bed and cry herself to sleep just like she had done in the hospital. She walked to the door that led to her room and saw the sign on the door that said Hawaii. But only she had spelt it wrong so It looked rather tacky.
She twisted the knob on the door and pushed the door open. She walked inside and saw that her room was just as she left it. A small pile of clothes was neatly folded and placed on her dresser, her jewelry box was open and a bracelet was hanging out of it, and a small ray of light came thru the closed window blinds creating a strange glow in the peach colored room.
She walked over to her bed and stared at the flowing colors that seemed to weave thru her multi-colored sheets. She slipped off her shoes and pulled up the sheets so she could slip in. She threw her jacket onto the ground and got into the bed. Pulling the sheets to her, embracing their warmth.
She closed her eyes and hoped that in the morning this would all go away.
?Have you ever been used?
USED
Chp.2
She sat in the brown leather chair, in a room, that was in an office building, labeled suite 322. In the room sat a balding man in his late fifties. He wore a pair of glasses that reminded her of a pair of spectacles she had seen in museums. His two sky blue eyes leveled on her, analyzing her, trying to find anything and everything that was wrong with her. There he sat behind his desk, like some sort of god. To the left and right of her sat her parents in similar brown leather chairs.
The psychiatrist broke the silence ?So; Stacy. How are you feeling??
She looked at him with a stoic expression ?Fine, I guess.? She lowered her head and looked down at the carpet. It was an imitation Persian rug. She marveled at how everyone was constantly was trying to make themselves look better. When all they managed to do was prove that they can never be better than what they are.
?Well, I?m glad to here it. So, Stacy when do you think you?ll be ready to go back to school?? She looked at the man like he had just asked her to jump off a cliff.
?Dr. Murdock? It?s only been three weeks! She?s barely healed psychically much less mentally. How can you ask her to go back?? Her mother snapped at the man.
?Your daughter needs to resume a normal life style as soon as possible Mrs. Gibbons. Otherwise, she?ll never be able to move past this traumatic time.?
?I know but-? Her father interrupted her.
?Now maybe he has a point. After all he?s the one with a medical degree. And it probably would be best for Stacy to go back to a normal life. Otherwise how will we ever get past this??
?Exactly Mr. Gibbons.? Dr. Murdock shuffled some papers on his desk. ?Now, from what I?ve seen Stacy is well; let?s put it bluntly she?s depressed. Which is perfectly natural after this kind of thing. But we should address this as soon as possible. I would like to put her on anti-depressants.? He stated.
?You want to put her on anti-depressants? Why? She can get past this own her own! She doesn?t need to be; doped up! I just want her back to normal. That?s all.? She sat there toning out everything around her, not wanting to here this conversation. She sat on a little green hill that had a perfect view of the mountains. The wind was blowing and she had her writing paper with her purple pen and a glass of lemonade. She was in Heaven.
?Mrs. Gibbons. Your child has been raped and is depressed. She needs?? She was laying on her stomach writing the next chapter in her story Protectorate of The Realms, when the breeze picked up making her hair blow. She smiled and moved her things over behind a tree where the wind wouldn?t blow her hair.
There was a tap on her shoulder ?Stacy, honey, its time to go.? My mother said as she was in the room again. She got up and followed her parents out of the building and to their apple red SUV. On their way home they stopped at the pharmacy to pick up something called Wellbutrin. From then on she hated psychiatrists.
She soon found out what the little blue pills were and decided she didn?t like them. Not one bit. So whenever her mother or father gave her the pills. She would tuck it under her tongue, go to the bathroom, and spit it in the toilet. She refused to be controlled by drugs. It made her angry just thinking about it.
She had been getting angry a lot lately. Of course she never expressed it. She would bury it, that way so on the surface she appeared placid and calm. She would not let her emotions dictate her. She would never be weak again. Never let someone use her like that again. Never again.
Her parents had talked with the teachers and staff at her school. Finding out that the majority of the school was talking about her, and it wasn?t words of encouragement. The staff had had too discipline a large amount of the students for talking about ?Rape Girl?. Her parents decided it would be best to move somewhere they had never heard of Stacy Gibbons. The girl who got raped.
She honestly didn?t care. After all, no matter where she lives, she?ll never feel safe. So when they loaded up the moving truck, got in their apple red SUV, and headed to New York where her father had a job at developing the new World Trade Center. So she went along with her parents? wishes just wanting to be left alone.
?Have you ever been used?
________________________
-GR
Edited by Gothic Raven, 26 June 2004 - 03:17 PM.
