Butterfly Farm

Chapter Eleven: Scars

Mess of Me by Citizen Soldier
Psychosis by Nathan Wagner
Scars by Boy Epic

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TRIGGER WARNING: direct references to rape/non-con. Non graphic, but still traumatic. Read at your own risk.

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  Ava didn't even bother to go inside when she got back to the Lennox's ranch. She went straight out to the barn with the horses, wanting to just be left alone. She had no appetite, there was water out here, and she didn't want to be bothered. She could survive a night out here alone just fine. Who needed people, anyways, right?

  Her head was a mess. 

  Ava didn't really know where she was going, she just ended up migrating to Bucky's empty stall, leaning against the big wood door and resting her chin on the top as she thought. It smelled dusty and a bit like horse urine, but she didn't care.

  Her mind wouldn't stop circling back to what had happened three years ago. The memories had struck her like a punch to the gut during history class, triggered by what the teacher had said and the events of the last few days. Everything she'd buried and kept locked up in her mind had started to come out to play, and her past was waking up to kick her in the ass again and remind her she was worthless. 

  For some reason, all she could think about was the pain of it. What it had felt like when it had happened, the humiliation she'd felt, the weakness. She'd felt powerless and despicable, like it was all somehow her fault. 

  She couldn't keep shying away from giving it a name, like she had been all these years. It was rape. She'd been raped.

  It hadn't been entirely unexpected. In one of the homes she'd been staying in, there was a boy, older than her by a few years. He was always watching her, always showing up in strange places, waiting for her. Just like the twins. 

  One night, he just showed up in her room. He was a football player, and he easily overpowered her. He hadn't tried to be gentle, especially not when Ava fought back. He'd made her feel dirty, told her she was a slut, that she deserved the pain. For a long time, she even believed it.

  It happened again a few nights later. Then again, after another few nights, over and over for the better part of a year. There was no pattern to when he'd come, or why. There was no logic to it, no warning. Just fear. He liked to watch her fear. He called her his little butterfly, something she hadn't understood for years until she'd realized that, like a butterfly, he'd torn her wings from her. He'd taken everything she had and left her broken. 

  No one ever found out. When she tried to tell an adult, they hadn't believed her, and she'd been punished for lying. She finally ran away after realizing the only way to break the cycle was to remove herself from it. She hadn't dared tell anyone else what had happened, because no one believed kids like her. It was enough for them to simply look at her record and think she just ran away for attention. It's what everyone assumed. And that was okay. 

  But she was not. She was not okay. That was made pretty clear to her in history class, when the dam began to give, and her mind felt like she was trapped inside a rock tumbler. 

  She was terrified it would happen again. Terrified he'd find her again. He'd shown up in her life a few times after she'd left, always from a distance, always looking somewhere else. But she knew better. She knew he'd been watching her. Keeping his promise. Waiting for her to dare to try and tell someone what he'd done. He'd warned her then that he'd kill her if she ever told, and his random appearances proved it wasn't an idle threat. He was big enough to kill her, easily.