Love Evermore

Chapter 13

Authors note: here it is guys. Here are the skeletons in her closet.Thanks for the support on this story and my other stories.

(Warning !!!!" mentions of child abuse physical sexual and verbal. And many other themes that may be upsetting Not suitable for anyone under 18 or with reasons for to avoid such topics. Please skip over this chapter.)

'Where I have been'

Spells of crushing darkness were broken by brutal flashbacks. Memories she had hoped were ling dead. Unfortunately she was not so lucky as to be able to forget the things she had been through. Many times she wished she could erase most of her memories.

He was always there in her memories glaring at her when her mother was alive. She was the reminder that her mother was unfaithful to him. She was the thing representing her mothers sin.

She remembered the night her mother was beaten to death. It had all been getting worse through the coarse of the years. His younger sons were fast asleep.

The creamy sling her mother was so proud of was black and purple. It had lost its color and was sickly white. It made the bruises all the more pronounced on the snowy skin. Cuts from Gorands knuckles were seen through the thin tenderails of hair covering her face.

The bright red all the more pronounced against the white. Her mothers warm brown eyes were lifeless. Like coals long burnt out inside the hearth. She felt alone for the first time in her life. She was faced with the cruelty and perversion of the man she hated most. And she was alone.

"Come here little whore!" he screamed and she did as he said to fearful of doing anything but that.

He grasped her hair tightly pulling loose some of the silvery blonde strands. And twisted her neck at an awkward angle to gaze up at him.

"Look what you have done you little bastard! Its because of you your mother is dead. You and the pointy eared father of your! Its because of you elves she is dead!" he roared into her ears.

"No. . . I. " she yelped when he gave her hair another tug.

"She loved me until she met your father! Until she gave birth to you!" he screamed again.

Her stomach smashed into the kitchen table. She swore she felt a rib crack. She turned to gaze fearfully at her step father. Her hand clutching the place where her side hurt.

"Punish you I will. At least there is still some use for you!"

His hands were at his belt and her eyes widened so much she thought they would fall out. Surely he wouldn't. . . She was only 8 summers. Was he so sick? Did he hate her so much?

Ten years later. . .

She clutched at her stomach nervously. Surely the small bulge there wasn't a child. Surely the maid was wrong. This child was brought about by. . . She swallowed thickly at the memories of a decade worth of rape.

What would he do? Would he kick her child from her? Would he allow it to draw breath? Fear clouded her mind as she thought of the little life inside her dying. Despite its cause of creation it restored some of her hope. Hope that she would not be alone.

Her door creaked open and she stood studying Gorand for his mood. He was drunk. When he was drunk it was better. If rape could be considered better. He didn't torment her so badly or humiliate her with sick words.

His hand sluggishly gestured for her to strip and bend over with her hands on the bed. It was something she knew by heart. When he was drunk this was how it was. No preamble or games it was done and over with.