Loathe by Iris Sweetwater
I used to look up to my father and my mother had been my favorite person. All until my world came crashing down and reality hit. I grew up too fast.
I knew they both did unusual things to make money from a young age, but I had no idea what it was they did until I was older. It turned out my father was a big part of the Russian mob and my mother went along with whatever scheme he was into. I never knew if she agreed or if she was just under his thumb.
Probably some of both.
I learned about it when I was fifteen, and no one thought I was listening. Apparently, his best gig was trafficking young women, and it had been going on for years. Even when he was a young man. When the maid told me, I worried that once I was old enough he would sell me too. What was more shocking than hearing that my father was in the business of selling young women for older men to fuck, was my mother had been a young girl he was going to traffic until, he fell in love with her. If a man like him was capable of love.
Maybe in some sick way, every motherfucker could love. Just not all love was worthy, I supposed.
My father had killed the man he bought my mother from, because he coveted her like some biblical sin. I was pretty sure by now my father had broken them all.
Once they realized they loved each other, he decided to take her off the market and keep her for himself. She became his accomplice and helped him in the trafficking business.
I was horrified to know that my mother helped him take girls from their families and sell them for profit to older men, so they could defile the girls any way they choose to.
Over the years, I watched my mother exert her sexual power over my father and other men, and I was in awe of her. I began to understand it. Her power was a quiet one behind closed doors. She always taught me a woman needed to know the power she had over men and that power came from the slit between her legs. She made me the perfect candidate for one of my worst fears, but it’s fucking funny what a human could face when given little choice.
As soon as I turned eighteen, I was sent for an invasive exam. Once they were sure my virginity was intact, they started debating on what kind of price they should ask for me. And of course I’d been a virgin. Through all that subtle training from my mother, I had never once been allowed to be defiled. I guess I knew why now.
I knew selling my body was not the life I wanted for myself, but I was too scared to speak up for myself. My mother began to teach me how to act and what it meant to be a lady of the night, and it broke my heart to know that this was the only life she’d ever really known.
“Mom, I don’t want this kind of life for myself. I want to do something different,” I said
one night during a lesson.
“What else is there that you’d want to do? The trade I am teaching you is the easiest way to make a living, I mean all you have to do is lay on your back and let men have their fun,” she said in a matter of fact tone.
I wanted to say more, but knew it was no use. She didn’t think that what they were doing was wrong, and my pleas would fall on deaf ears. I was afraid that if I said too much, she would tell Dad, and I was a bit afraid of him. I knew if I wanted to get out, I was going to have to bide my time and run at some point. I had no idea when I would be able to do that, but I knew it wouldn’t be right then.
She left my room after our conversation, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I changed into my pajamas. As I was about to snuggle under the covers for the night, I heard some commotion outside my window. That night my mother had been killed as punishment for what my father had done to the man that sold her. Karma had caught up, but taken the wrong person as payment.
There I was, eighteen and now motherless. I had no idea what I was going to do now that she was gone. She had always protected me from my father when he got drunk and angry. I knew she loved me, even though she tried to keep me in the life she’d lived and that was not something I wanted either. I felt lost and had no one to turn to for help. I had no other family that I knew of, and my father barely acknowledged my existence anymore.
I was a product. That was all.
A week after we put my mother in the ground, I was hiding in my room trying to get away from the shithole my life had turned into when I heard his loud footsteps coming up the stairs. I knew deep down what was about to happen since mother was no longer there to protect me from him. I told myself to stay strong and keep my emotions in check. He would never see me cry again.
I was so fucking wrong.
Suddenly, the door flew open and smacked against the wall leaving a dent in the drywall. I could tell he was drunk again as he had been almost every day since she’d died. He held a whiskey bottle in his hand. He walked closer to my bed and took a wad of cash from his pocket, throwing it all over me.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’re drunk; go sleep it off.” I started gathering the money to give back to him.
I could feel the adrenaline as it started to rise in me, and my fight or flight kicked in. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run since he had so many lackeys in the house. They’d catch me before I got to the end of the driveway. I was going to have to fight, and I wished he hadn’t gotten my mother taken away from me so she could protect me from the monster he was turning into.
“That is your payment for the night. You’ll give me what I want starting now.” His growl was like an animal’s as he climbed into bed with me.
I was horrified at what was happening. He was my father, and he bought me like a hooker.
I fought against him as he started trying to take my clothes off. He reached out and smacked my face hard enough to make me stop and grab my cheek.
“Stop struggling and do as I say. How else will you make a good lady of the night?” he asked with a sneer.
He leaned down as I struggled and started to kiss my neck and roughly grope my breasts. I tried to move myself out from underneath him, but he was too heavy and strong. I knew I was fighting a losing battle and he was going to take what little innocence I had left. Despite that I knew I couldn’t let him do it without fighting him tooth and nail. I wasn’t going to let myself be a victim of incest without hurting him in every way I knew how.
“This isn’t right, this is incest. You are my father!” I cried out as he pulled my clothes off quickly. I tried to scratch his face, but he grabbed my hand and held it above my head. “I’m not one you should be fucking. If you hadn’t angered that man, my mother would still be alive, and you could do this to her!” Probably about the worst thing I could have said.
He leaned up from kissing my neck and looked me in the eyes with a sadistic grin on his face as he continued groping my breasts with his free hand. I tried to get my hand free of him, but he was too strong and held me down easily. I couldn’t believe that he was doing what he was doing to me. I knew this night wasn’t going to end good for me. I was devastated that the one man that was supposed to take care of me and protect me, was the one willingly hurting me.
I tried bringing my knee up to smack his balls, but he rolled to the side without letting go of my hand. I wiggled my other hand free and scratched his face before he could grab my wrist, eliciting a hard smack across my face.
“I’ve got news for you, sweet cheeks. I’m not your biological father. Your mother was pregnant when I killed your real father. I’ve taken care of you all these years, and now you’re going to take care of me and my mafia friends and make me money.” He moved inside me, and I felt sick.
He mumbled something about how good I felt, but I didn’t pay attention to what he was saying. I wanted to die in that moment and knew I had to do whatever I could to make it end quickly. It seemed that the end was nowhere in sight as he wheezed and sweated on top of me. I closed my eyes and made myself go to another place in my mind while he was on top of me.
I knew at that moment I had to get out and it had to be soon. My life depended on it.
It took 18 months to get out, and by then, I was worse off than a used-up whore.
My father’s second was on top of me, finishing in me like nothing but a vesicle, and I put my mind on my plan. I had been saving, stealing, planning for three months.
Once the monster finished and passed out, I snuck to the shower and cleaned myself. I made sure to be quiet as I quickly gathered a duffle bag full of clothes and necessities. I silently made my way down the hall to the kitchen and opened the back door, shutting it behind me as softly as I could.
I hid against the side of the house and waited to make sure no one heard the door before I dashed across the yard. I ran as hard as I could until my lungs burned and I was several blocks away. I hid behind a tree in a yard and waited a few minutes to catch my breath.
I smiled as I realized that I was now free. Free of the monster and free of the life I’d never wanted for myself. I just hoped he would never find me.