Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Chicken Pen

This is fiction...or is it?

Everyone in the house had gotten up early that morning and left for school or work. I had woke up feeling sick, but more than anything I was having severe cramps from just starting my 2nd period ever. At the last minute I convinced Mom to let me stay home from school, by saying I was having bad diarrhea. It worked because she saw me go the bathroom 4 or 5 times, she thought I was using the toilet, but I was adjusting the tampon that seemed to be making me sick to my stomach. My father had already left for work an hour earlier and wasn't to be back home until after 6pm on that day, so I would have the house to myself until at least 4pm when Mom, my brothers and sisters would all get home.

I laid down in bed and covered my head as I listened to sounds of family driving away. Once I was sure they were far enough away, I quickly got up and fixed myself a bowl of cereal and took 2 ibuprofen for the pain in my stomach. It wasn't long before I was feeling well enough to play the music on the stereo loud enough that if someone had lived within a mile of us that could have heard it bumping with a thunderous bass sound. I dance about crazy and wild, doing moves that I would never consider doing in front of someone.

I continued dancing until the water I had placed on the stove to heat up was ready. We didn't have a shower or any hot water, so the best way for me to get cleaned up was by heating a large boiling pot on the stove in the kitchen, then carry it to the bathroom and dump it into a larger container that sat in the bottom of the tub. I would then add cold water from the well that had natural spring water flowing into it at all times, to bring it to a temperature that was comfortable.

I stripped naked, stepped into the tub and began pouring water over my head from yet another pan. I tried to let as much water as possible drain back into the large bucket sitting in the tub, so that I would have enough to wash and rinse my hair and then wash the rest of my body. It usually took all the water and sometimes a little extra cold water from the faucet to feel completely clean.

After I finished cleaning up, I got dressed and then headed outside with my book Little House on the Prairie. I had a favorite spot where I liked to read, where no one knew I was there. It was on top of the chicken pen on the south side of the house. One day I had gotten mad at everyone and decided to 'disappear', and that was the place I had chosen to hide.

On top I could see everyone around me, without them seeing me. I spent time there watching Mom hang clothes on the clothesline, my father feeding the chickens and gathering eggs, I watched my brothers using their knives to cut down small branches to make into swords, I saw my sister playing with her dolls near a small garden. I could watch the world from there, and I loved how that made me feel.

There was a tree behind the chicken pen that made it easy for me to crawl up on top, so I found myself spending a lot of my time there alone reading and watching others. I brought an old blanket and my pillow so I could lay down and get very comfortable for a couple of hours. I only had a few chapters left in the book, so I hoped I could complete it before anyone got back.
It was still before noon when I finished the book, but I decided to stay on top of the chicken house a little long and soak up sun. I had almost falling asleep when I heard someone coming down the driveway. My first thought was that it was some stranger who had lost his way. As I listened to the vehicle coming closer I began to entertain even crazier thoughts of it being a murderer looking for his next target. Whoever it was, I didn't want to take a chance of being found home alone, so I stayed hid on top of the chicken pen and watched until whoever was coming down the road came into view.

My heart raced wildly when I saw it was my father in his truck. Fear over took me, and I began thinking about ways to escape in case he saw me. I didn't want to spend time alone with him. I was frighten to death of him. I never knew what he would try to do to me or what kind of weird off the wall kind of things he would try to make me do when no one was around.

The thoughts made my heart beat so fast from the adrenaline rush, that I thought it was going to explode. I was taking in deep breaths as if someone was choking me. After a couple more deep breathes I got up enough nerve to look over the top of the pen again and see what my father was doing. I watched as he began getting something out of the passengers seat that was wrapped up with a old blanket that had been in the back of his truck for weeks. I kept my eyes peeled on what he was doing, but keeping myself laying down as flat as possible so he couldn't possible spot me.

Fear rushed throughout my body when I saw him carrying what he had towards my direction. I ducked completely down and just listened to sounds of him coming closer. I heard him walk through the door opening into the chicken pen, and then I heard the sound of him opening the door to the inner part of the pen. It was the area just below where I was laying, the area where my father had many times brought deer that he had illegally killed out of season, or just a extra untagged one during the season.

I once had to hold the flashlight for my father as he hoisted a deer by the hide legs up into the air with a rope. He then took out a very sharp, large hunting knife and split the deer open from between its legs. All the while he would direct me where to point the light, and tell me to make sure I kept my mouth shut so that he didn't get into any kind of trouble with the law.

It wasn't deer season, but that was my first thought when I heard the sounds of him hoisting something up into the air using the rope that always hung over a set of steel rods that my father had put up in between two 4X8 beams. It was solid enough that you could swing back and forth on the ropes. But most of the time you couldn't stand being in the room for very long because it was always so hot inside. In the room there was only one very small window that was barely big enough to stick your head out of it. Not even big enough to escape out of if the need ever came.

After several minutes I became curious enough to look through one of the several small nail holes that were all over the top of the pen. I could see my father with his penis out of this pants, stroking it as he stood there staring in one direction. I quietly moved over to another nail hole and look down. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head when I looked down and saw a young girl with brown hair and blood coming out of her mouth, hanging like a deer by her wrist high in the air. She looked like she had been beaten severely, until she became unconscious. I could hear small moans, but no words that I could understand. I watched with my eyes wide, not really believing what I was seeing, but scared to move in fear of getting caught and being the one hanging there.

My father moved into the picture and I could see and hear him slapping her hard across various parts of her body. He bit her hard on her nipples until both of them were bleeding. When he began having sex with her I turned away, no longer able to look at her suffering. I felt so sorry for her, but I was so scared and I knew there was nothing except for killing him that I could do to save her.

Since we lived so far out in the country we didn't have a phone. There were no lines that ran out that far, so if we wanted one, the phone company told Mom that they would have to pay to put up the lines, which cost several hundred dollars. Of course we never managed to save up that much money, so calling for someone to come rescue her was out of the question.

When I looked down again he was anal raping her with part of a old shovel handle. I could hear her crying out as he shoved it up her repeatedly. It was then that her eyes opened and we made eye contact. Our eyes wide, staring at each other, she began begging for my father to stop what he was doing. She looked directly at me, and screamed, "please help me, don't let him kill me!"

My father stopped what he was doing and looked up. I rolled over and away from the hole, looking for a possible escape, but making a lot of noise on the tin roof as I did. There was no where for me to go to get away quick enough without him spotting me, still I tried. I made it half way down the side of the tree when I felt him grabbing me by the legs. He pulled me hard and I tumbled down and hit the ground with a hard thump. He held the gun down near my face and asked me what the hell I was doing home. I got to barely explain before he grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled in towards the door of the chicken pen.

"I promise I won't say anything! Please don't kill me!" I screamed from the bottom of my soul.

"Shut the fuck up and do as I fucking say!" he screamed at me as he jerked my head around.

He pulled me inside to the area where the strange girl hung silently in the air. Blood was draining down her legs from where the shovel handle was still stuck up inside of her.

"So you want to watch? Huh? Well watch this."

He then shoved the handle of the shovel all the way up inside of her, and she let out a loud scream that terrified me so much that I started shaking uncontrollably.

"Please just let her go." I begged. "Don't hurt her anymore. Stop making her suffer."

"Suffer?! Who cares if this whore suffers. She's just a piece of trash. Why don't you just put a end to her suffering? You're a part of this now. You know all about it. End it for her."

My father then grabbed his gun from the corner and put it in my hands.

"Just pull the goddamn trigger! Do you want to be the one laying there?"

I felt cold, distant. I couldn't take my eyes off of her eyes and the tip of the shotgun that was pressed hard between her two amber colored eyes. She looked at me and moaned deeply, begging for life without the use of words. I wanted to look away, walk away, run far to the ends of the earth and just jump off.

My father shouted at me with a voice that was more terrifying than dieing. "You better do it. If not I'm going to do to you, all the things I did to her. Do you fucking understand me? Now pull the goddamn trigger!"

He was holding the gun in my hands so tight that they had become numb, almost frozen in place. For a brief moment my heart stop beating. I didn't breathe. There was no sounds. Then it was all over. Blood poured from the wound, and gagging, bubbling sounds escaped from her mouth. Her eyes stared wide, directly looking into my eyes, looking for some type of hope. Some last chance. She grasp for one last breath of air and then her eyes lowered. I turned and vomited hard, falling down to my knees as I did.

My father untied her hands and let her drop to the floor as I stood there in shock. He wrapped her up in the blanket that he had carried her into the chicken pen with, and then through her over his shoulder. He picked up his 20 gauge and walked back to his truck and through her into the back. I recovered enough that I managed to get to my feet and walk outside. I met him half way between the chicken pen and his truck when he again grabbed me by my hair.

"You better keep this to yourself! If you tell anyone, anyone!! I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life locked up somewhere. I'll let them know you were the one who killed her, and you'll spend the rest of your life in jail getting fucked in the ass by some guards. Do you hear me Tayla? Keep you fucking mouth shut! Now as far as anyone knows I wasn't here today, so you better not tell anyone I was even home. Do you understand me?" He then yanked on my hair hard until I agreed.

Fear of my fathers rage, I did as I was ordered.

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