WILD WOLF

PART EIGHTEEN: 2002 PARIS HILTON

WARNING: rape mention. Skip the first 3 paragraphs if you need to.

WILD WOLF

PART EIGHTEEN: 2002 PARIS HILTON

DIARY ENTRÉE #61

I'm upset, everything aches, more so in my own head. I want quiet, peace and I won't find it in the walls of my home. I'm at my wits end, I don't know what to do. It'd be so easy to give up, let go but I know I can't. I have a daughter to take care of, to protect and if I die then she'll have no one. I'd give the world to Linda if I could–something my mother never offered me. I try not to become her; a wrinkled sack of shit. She only cared for her pack of cigarettes and her next pay check. I was a mouth to feed, a nuisance, that's all. She was a bitter woman, hateful and spiteful because my father slept with his whores instead of her and she took it out on me. She thought she could create the perfect woman in me, make up for the fact that my father no longer wanted her. She tried to mould the woman she believed my father would crave but it was useless. He didn't want her, didn't want anything to do with me and he ran off with a woman half his age. He wanted excitement, adventure and my mother in her shapeless jumpers and saggy breasts couldn't hold a match to the blonde twenty-something with the skin-tight jeans.

     I was reared to be an item, a womb and nothing more. Elliot treats me like I'm some sort of prostitute. He holds me down and pushed himself inside of me and then when he's done, he sits up and walks to the shower. It doesn't last more than a few minutes. It's not loving. It's vicious. I can't say 'no', I must lie there and do my duty as my mother would put it. A woman should care to a man's needs–always.

      I tried to refuse him once and he became enraged. He was violent and forceful and once he was done he left me and went to play poker with Ian. Linda was only ten and she found me limping to the bathroom, bleeding and aching all over and she gazed at me with wide eyes. I don't think I can ever forget the look on her face. It haunts me. Which is why I can't ever leave her behind.

*

My phone vibrated. It was a call from Jenny. I ignored it and ate my chips, eyes fixed on the TV screen. I was watching Scandal, it was a show I hate-watched, I loved watching it because of Olivia and Mellie but Fitz made me mad. Liv and Mellie deserved better than him and I was waiting for the day they realised that. My phone buzzed again, and I answered. "Yeah?"

"Can I come and see you?" Jenny sounded upset, she sniffled on the other end.

I half rolled my eyes, and then lied. "I'm out of town. What's wrong?" If I had a dollar for every tear Jenny shed, I would be able to hand out small loans of one million dollars to every stranger I met on the street.

Silence. And then: "The next time you tweet about how much you hate Fitz' wrinkled balls you should turn your location off." She cut the call. I felt slightly bad, I was a shit fúck-buddy. I frowned and tossed my phone away angrily, why did I care? I didn't sign up to wipe her ass and dress her up, our relationship was based on physical need. Not emotional. She was so whiny and needy. Why couldn't she blog about being an emo on tumblr instead of coming to me and expecting me to drop everything and hold her hand?

A sigh escaped me and then my attention was back on the programme.

I woke up the next morning feeling better and walked down to the kitchen for breakfast. Tensions were high between Mom and Dad since the funeral and they've been greeting each other with a cold shoulder. Mom cooed and stroked Ed and Dad ruffled his newspaper and sipped his coffee loudly. I ate my breakfast and scampered out of the house and walked to school.