The Fence (A Billy Hargrove Short Story)

The Other Side of the Fence

⚠️Trigger warnings⚠️: Descriptions of sexual assault in first person and domestic violence. Proceed with caution. 🖤
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Disclaimer: This is not my normal style of writing. Most of my fics are more upbeat and smutty with a little angst. 🖤

Josephine's POV

Close your eyes. Think of something else. It'll be over soon. I feel the weight of him on top of me. Feel him forcing himself inside of me again and again. I used to fight him. I used to cry. Not anymore, there was no point. I turn my head to the side and look out my window. I see a blue bird teetering on the edge of the fence. Fly away, pretty thing. There's nothing good here. Go. Be free.

My stepdad grunts in my ear as he finishes what he came here to do. He stands up and walks away without a word, leaving me naked and ashamed. I quickly pull the covers over my body to hide. I have become pretty good at blocking it out. Most of the time it feels like I'm not even there. It feels like I'm watching it all from the outside. Sort of like a movie. A horrible movie. My heart hurt for the poor girl I saw.

A shower. Wash away the guilt. Wash away him. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Come on, Jo. Just get up. You can do this. I force myself out of my bed and stand up shakily. I try to bring myself back to reality with a little trick I have learned. I focus on the feeling of the carpet under my bare feet. Touch. I take a deep breath in through my nose, smelling the pine scent from my favorite candle. Smell.

I listen to the clock ticking on my wall. Sound. I look out my window and watch the trees blowing in the wind. Sight. And my personal favorite. Taste. I walk slowly to my nightstand and dig around in the back, pulling out the small bottle of whiskey. I raise it to my lips and shudder as I taste the alcohol. It burned going down and I grimaced. But it did the trick. I was brought back to earth.. Well, back to hell.

I feel him begin to drip out of me. My stomach turns as I shove the bottle back in my dresser and head to the bathroom. I hate it in here. The vomit green walls match perfectly with the contents of my stomach as I empty them into the toilet. I lay my head on the toilet seat, feeling the coolness against my face. Is it gross? Sure. Not any more gross than what just happened. I allow a single tear to escape before wiping it away quickly.

The tiles are pressing hard against my knees and I welcome the pain. I welcome anything that takes my mind away from reality. "Josephine." I hear my stepdad's voice. "Yes?" I say simply. "I'll be back in a few hours. You know the rules." he says through the bathroom door. Don't go outside. Don't answer the door. Don't speak to anyone. "Yes, father." I answer. And he's gone. The monster.

That's what I call him. When I was younger, other children were afraid of monsters in their closet or under their bed, I was scared of the one living with me. The one wearing a human face. The one who was supposed to protect me from the monsters ended up being the biggest monster of them all.