Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 12:43:15 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Jenny Chapter 3 - Lesbian/Young Friends Jenny By Tom Cup Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Girlztown Library at http://www.girlztown.net If you enjoy this story and would like to see it continue here on Nifty, please send me a note at tom_cup@hotmail.com Your comments are truly appreciated. ************************************************************************ Jenny By Tom Cup Chapter Three Disobedience Mom was waiting at the door as the car pulled up. I told Tina that it would be OK. We both knew I was lying. Tina insisted on walking me to the door. I knew she thought that if she showed Mom her face and apologized that things would go easier on me. I had no such illusions. I tried to put distance between Tina and myself as I hurried up the walk toward the door. Tina hurried behind me. I heard her yelling, "Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Davis, Please it really was my fault," as I crossed the threshold. Mom closed the door in her face. Tina knocked a few times pleading with Mom to talk to her. I stood in the middle of the living room, my head bent low, tears falling freely from my eyes and striking the carpeted floor, waiting for the sound of Tina's car to drive away and the punishment to begin. Mom lit a cigarette and calmly poured a drink. I was terrified. The calmer she was before she started the worse it would be for me, I knew that. It hurt that she didn't appear angry. She smoked her cigarette and finished the drink as I stood trembling, my insides shaking, my bladder releasing small amounts of urine. I can't remember how long I stood there. All I know is that I had to use the bathroom. I couldn't hold it any longer. "Mommy," I whispered, "Can I go to the bathroom, please." "What did you say?" She asked fiercely turning toward me. "I have to go to the bathroom. Please Mommy." "No. You can stand right there and keep your fucking mouth closed until I tell you otherwise." "Please Mommy, I have to go!" Mom struck me then. The blow hit me hard on the side of my face. I turned away. She hit me again and again, screaming and accenting her statements with the beating she was giving me. "You think you're grown, you little bitch? You do what the fuck I tell you too. Who the fuck do you think you are? I'll beat the shit out of you!" And on and on it went. In the end, I was beat four times consecutively. Once for "lying" about Tina calling Mom, once for getting Tina to lie for me, once for not doing as Mom told me when I was suppose to remain quiet and once for wetting myself. The beating was horrible but the humiliation that I would face when I saw Sara Monday morning at school kept the tears in my eyes; as on my hands and knees, through the night, I scrubbed and rescrubbed the living room floor as Mom threatened to beat me again if she caught me crying. ***** "What happened?" Sara asked. I hurried away from her. I didn't want to talk to her because I didn't want to lie to her. Mom made it clear that if anyone found out the truth that she would beat me to death. I believed her. I know people think, "Oh if someone is being abused that bad they'll tell." Well, it's not true. People think the world is such a big place that anyone can get help. Well, I had proof that Mom would beat the shit out of me. I was reminded of that fact frequently. There was no proof that anyone would come running to the rescue. In my mind I could see the school counselor sitting down with Mom and me and saying, "Jennifer says you've been abusing her." Mom would feign a smile, look at me and lovingly stroke my hair while telling the woman, "You know how girls this age are, always trying to sneak out to be with the boys. Yes, I am strict with Jennifer but abusive? My Lord, No. When you have to be both mother and father to a girl Jennifer's age you have to be tougher on her than a girl that has both parents at home. I'm sure you understand." I would be sent home. The counselor would never believe another word I said after that and Mom would punish me unmercifully. I knew. That's what happened in third grade. So I had no reason to trust that help was just around the corner and every reason to do what Mom said. "I can't talk to you." "Why?" "My Mom says." Sara laughed. "What she got spies at school? Get real. Now tell me what happened." She examined my face. The bruise wasn't hard to see. "She do this to you?" she asked already knowing the answer. "No I fell," I answered. "Before or after she hit you." "Please Sara, it'll only make it worse." "How can it get worse? She beats the shit out of you whether you do anything wrong or not. Everybody thinks you're a klutz. You're always banged up one-way or another. `I fell, I slipped, I tripped.' Give me fucking brake. I've never seen you fall, slip or trip over anything." I stared at her. Mom said to break it off. I was never to see or speak to Sara again. Even as I swore I would obey, part of me knew I wouldn't. Sara knew it too. I could see it in her eyes. She ushered me out of the corridor and into the bathroom. As soon as she closed the door to one of the stalls and turned to face me, I broke and began crying uncontrollable. Sara held me, kissing my cheek, and telling me it would be all right. I told her why it wouldn't. I told her of the horror I was living and Sara Johnson told me to trust her that it really would be all right. She adjusted my make up so the bruise wasn't so noticeable; told me I had to look people in the eye if I didn't want them to think something was wrong, and to remember that we were friends. I nodded. She lifted my chin, looked me in the eyes and asked me if I really understood. "Yes," I whispered. She smiled, still staring in my eyes, and kissed me. We missed half of first period. We walked in together. I don't know what Sara told the teacher. It didn't matter to me. I followed her down the row of desks. She usually sat in the third row next to the window. I sat in the last row and in the middle. As we got to the third row she stop. She nodded to Holly. Holly gathered her books and moved to another seat. I didn't know how she managed that but that's how I wound up sitting next to Sara for first period class. ***** I cleaned house when I got home, made dinner and did the laundry. After I got beat like I did over the weekend I usually was safe from another beating, at least until the bruises went away, but Mom hovered about me waiting for me to do something that she could pinch my side or curse me about. She kept asking if I talked to that slut Sara at school. I replied, "No ma'am. You told me not too, Mommy." She lectured me about what a bad influence girls like Sara could be. She told me "if it weren't for that little bitch I wouldn't have had to punish my baby. Now would I?" "No Mommy." I replied. "So you stay away from the little whore. OK?" "Yes, Mommy. I will. I'll be good Mommy. I promise." Something changed in me that day. I don't know if it was good or bad. Up until that point I think I believed Mom. I mean, I didn't like the beatings but had convinced myself that Mom was right to beat me. I wish I knew the exact moment that it happened but I don't. I just remember thinking she was the liar, not me. I remember that from then on I hated my mother. I hated her and didn't feel bad about it. I would do everything she told me. I would say all the things I knew she wanted to hear but I would never love her again. We cuddled that night and watched a movie together. She rubbed my back and arms asking me if I was OK. Even though I was still in pain I told her I was all right. She smiled, held me closer, and said, "That's my girl." She said I was a liar so from then on I told her as many lies as I could get away with. That night I lay awake deliberately touching myself with one hand while running my fingers over my lips, remembering Sara's kiss, with the other. I discovered that I could slip away to another world with my girlfriend, far away from Mom and all the harsh realities of my life. I could love and be loved as the confines of my room slipped away, as memory and fantasy merged, and my body responded to my gentle play; encouraging me to love myself. ***** "I want you to come over again," Sara said a few weeks later. "You know I can't do that. Mom would have a cow if I even asked." "So don't ask." "Sara!" "Jenny!" We stood smirking at each other, hands on our hips, until we burst into laughter. She hugged me and whispered, "Please. I want to be alone with you." I knew what she meant. We snuck hugs and kisses in the bathroom at school but it was nothing like what almost happened at her house. Life at home had been stable for those few weeks but that didn't mean that things couldn't good bad in a hurry. Even so, I was willing to take the chance to be with Sara. So we tried to figure out how to get me out of the house so we could meet. Sara said that Tina would gladly pick me up somewhere if I could get away. So I decided that Friday night, after Mom slipped into her alcohol-induced coma, I would sneak out my bedroom window and call Sara from the payphone at the 7-11. I was trembling but not out of fear. There was a surreal pleasure in deliberately doing something against Mom's wishes. I had been punished so many times for things that I didn't do, or for things that other parents would have let slide, that doing something worthy of punishment seemed only fair. If I got caught it wouldn't matter. I'd gladly take the beating knowing that I had finally done what I wanted. Mom wouldn't be able to take the time I had away. It seems crazy now but I was determined to disobey her. I was determined to be that bad girl she always accused me of being. In a strange way Mom forced me to become a disobedient daughter. It may seem cold of me to say but in the end Mom got what she deserved. *********************************************************************** Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Girlztown Library at: http://www.girlztown.net Now available at the Girlztown Library: Donna: The serial story of the younger sister of Kevin. Barb, Chuck and Kevin have all left their imprints on this young girl's life. 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