No Consent: The next day

This is the rework of a self-published auto-biographical story (2008), rewritten for this blog. Names of characters have been changed.
Content warning: mental and physical abuse, misogyny.

Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do.

The next day
July 1994

Continued from… Mandy (part 3)

7 July

Before the housekeeper was in the next morning, and while Fred was taking a bath, Annie returned to the bar. She found bunches of blond hair on the floor – her hair. Shame and humiliation washed through her. Next to the hair, she saw a cigarette butt, and instantly remembered how casually Fred smoked his cigarette the night before. Stupidly, she looked over her shoulder to see if no one was watching her, and then quickly ran her fingers over the floor, gathering the hair together, and picking up the cigarette butt. She didn’t want Fred to see it. Annie couldn’t go through yet another humiliation. She disposed of the hair and cigarette butt in the kitchen, embarrassment filling her to the core.

* * * * *

“I feel Annie has now been punished for her Yvonne-trick,” were the words Fred spoke early that morning when Fran and Annie joined Mandy and him in the main bedroom for their morning coffee. Those words still echoed in her ears. That was not the only thing bothering Annie. Her thoughts went back to what happened when she returned to the lounge the night before. Fred, Fran and Mandy were sitting on the couches, talking. All sexual actions had stopped and what Annie didn’t know was that Fran and Mandy saw most of what had happened between her and Fred.

The sexually charged atmosphere of earlier was ruined. They all decided to go to bed. Fran and Annie would sleep in Annie’s bed and of course, Mandy would spend the night with Fred. In the bathroom, while the three women took a bath before going to bed, Annie was very quiet. Fran and Mandy were insincerely cheerful. After their bath, they were all sitting on the bed, chatting, and that’s when Fred had asked Fran if she thought Annie gave her enough room to play with Mandy.

Fran, knowing her husband, and suspecting what he wanted to hear, quickly glanced at Annie before she answered.
“I felt that I had to fight to get a chance to lick or kiss Mandy.” Annie looked at Fran in shock. She wanted to protest, but Mandy interrupted.
“I enjoyed the evening, but I noticed that Fran wasn’t busy with me as much as I thought she would be,” she said, looking at Annie, “but don’t you worry girl. You will get there. Eventually you will learn how to share.”

Annie kept quiet. She hated Fran. She hated Mandy. She hated Fred. She hated Annie, because she didn’t dare to stand up for herself.

* * * * *

Another shock awaited Annie when she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom just before she was about to get into the bath. She was inspecting the tender spot on her forehead. It was just below her hairline and covered by her bangs. This was the spot where Fred repeatedly banged his head against hers. That morning Fred had joked about it, boasting that he didn’t feel anything on his head, contrary to the lump on hers.

Her eye fell on a darker spot. She leant closer to inspect her mirror image. Puzzled, she looked at the small, round and bloody wound on her left breast. Horrified and with anguish, she instantly knew where it came from. Annie also knew exactly when it happened. The sharp burning sensation that she felt on her chest the previous night was when Fred put out his cigarette on her breast.

Annie couldn’t cry anymore. She felt only shame. Humiliation. And hatred. Hatred for the situation in which she had to live. Hatred because she chose for this life. Hatred towards Fran who continued to live in this situation. Hatred for her own body, marred by the incidents of the previous night. Hatred for her bisexuality.



Fear… for Fred.

To be continued… Heidi (part 1)

© Rebel’s Notes

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