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Chapter 4
This chapter for me will be the hardest thing I ever hope to write. It has taken me days just to return to my pc and try to do so. I know I have to write this and in doing so, I will leave myself wide open. It will be like walking back into the lion’s den. Neither is it trying to hide my shame, because even to this day I rightly blame myself. I expect anyone reading this would also take that line. I am not going to stretch this out more than I need to do so, but the facts have to be digested so you can formulate an image of the madness which was to ensue for yourself. Sitting here, I can feel the palms of my hands sweating; my heart seems to be beating just that little bit faster. How can I write this down? But I know I have to. There needs to be an end to this and I have to try to reach it, without destroying myself in the process.
I was under no illusions that kiss would be the end of it. Of course it would not be, I was at least not that stupid, and I had given up trying to pretend it was not happening. What was the point? So the next time he told me that there was work waiting next door, I just got up and went. He had engineered everything so cleverly, and in some sick kind of way I admired his strategy. We went in and I proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. I could hear him below locking the door after us, and then I heard his footsteps on the uncarpeted stair way. The only way I was going to get through this was to try and take myself out of my body. To pretend I was somewhere else. This was not me, how could it be? There was this voice inside me; it was telling me that I could hide. What did that mean? He came through the door and crossed the room to where I was standing. Before I really had time to take a breath he was all over me, pushing me backwards. I tripped and fell into something. What was it? Then I remembered that was where the desk had been situated. He fell on top of me and started kissing me, pushing his tongue deep into my throat. I felt the need to be sick. It was making me gag. Within a split second or so it seemed he had his hand up under my top, grabbing at my breast and ripping painfully at my bra—it was digging into me so painfully across my back. I told him that it was hurting me and he responded by saying take the fucking things off then. I reached around to undo my bra from behind, but he seemed unable to wait and once again he was pulling at me. Grabbing both my bra and my top, he tossed them both across the room. He had moved down now to my tummy area, he was kissing me everywhere, biting at me. I could feel his hand on the button of my jeans; everything was going too fast, I had to slow it down.
If only I could convince him that it would be better to take our time, it would then give me breathing space. But even if successful what would that change? I had to try. I lifted his head up with my hands and asked him to take it slow; I told him that there was no rush, that we had all the time in the world. I asked him to kiss me; I had to make him think that it was all his idea to slow it down, convince him I was a willing participant, but that it would be nice to take our time. My mind was desperately screaming out for answers, for anything. I said the first thing that came into my mind. That we were at the start of a new relationship and the slower it progressed, the more worthwhile it would be. I just did not know how he was going to react, and it seemed a lifetime before he responded. He stood up and took a step back, telling me that I was a bitch, and that I had wanted this all the time. My head was in turmoil scrambling just to keep up, but if I were to pull this off I had to seem genuine. Ok he was listening, now what? I told him that of course I did, but it had to be done the right way. The right time and the right place would make it much more pleasurable for both of us. I had been trying to fight my emotions for a long time without any success. It was working. I could see that he was thinking about it, and prayed that I was right. He seemed to soften. I could see it in his face. Sitting back against the desk he said that I should have told him. I had been wrong in not doing so. I was holding my breath feeling completely dizzy as I answered that, yes, I had been wrong in not doing so. Crossing the room he retrieved my clothes, and throwing them at me he told me to get dressed. Then he hit me with a bombshell as well as a slight snigger. He told me that we were not leaving just yet. I had worked him up so I had to deal with it. I stood there as he removed his belt from his jeans, pulling down both his jeans and underwear. I just looked at him standing there; I was starring at his penis, why was I? But I could not look away. He told me to come over to him that we were going nowhere fast, and not until I had dealt with him (i.e. masturbation, but that was not exactly the word he had used). I crossed the room in a sort of daze, took him in my hand, and proceeded to do what he wanted. When it was over he pulled up his jeans, then kissing me on the cheek he left. I felt violated. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, but no amount of soap and water would ever make me feel clean again. Of that I was under no illusion.
I went back to the office and I could not shake the feeling that everyone in the room was up to speed. Were they looking at me? I thought I heard them whispering. I could not get the picture of what had just happened out of my head; I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than what had just occurred. I collected my belongings, made my excuses and left. It seemed like I was driving for hours. I had a class to teach later that day, but there was no way that was going to happen. I rang and told them that I was unwell, which was not too far from the truth. I drove home, picked up a bottle of brandy, and proceeded to try and drink my way through it. What was I going to do? This was madness; I was on the road to inevitable destruction. We had passed go in a game I never wanted any part of.
How could I turn back the clock? Rewind time? I couldn’t. It would only be a matter of time until, once more, he would what to progress towards his ultimate goal. But that was only ever going to happen over my dead body. I wouldn’t let it get that far. I would find the strength somehow.
I considered so many things, but nothing seemed to be the answer. It was a waiting game until he felt the need to move forward once more as I knew he would. It came much too quickly for me. Arriving for work one morning, once more I heard those words that I had come to dread, we were going next door. One thing I could never quite understand, no one other than himself had keys to the offices. Why didn’t anyone question this? If it seemed odd to me, why did it not to others? It was a place of work after all. The keys to the yard where the equipment was stored were readily available, but not the offices. Something was different. I was walking there as if it was a normal thing to do; no one was dragging me there. Theoretically, had I accepted it? Or did I feel I had no other choice? That fighting him was useless. The reason for this complacence seemed to escape me. Nothing seemed to compute any more. As we climbed the stairs I could feel myself starting to panic and a feeling of dread hung in the air. I was desperately trying to work out how I could contain it as before, and not to let things progress further. Was it going to be possible? When we entered the office he grabbed me by both arms, instructing me to take my jeans off. God, how could I do this? I said that we were still moving too fast, he replied that we weren’t and to do as I was fucking told. I started to cry, tried to reason with him, to seek out his better nature or judgement, but to no avail.
This is so painful for me to write, but I have to do so in order to make it clear that I was not a willing participant, in any shape or form. I just felt I had to do everything that he was telling me, and that it was not for me to question. So what was I then? I still can’t answer that one, I felt so lost and needy, and it was all in the mix along with the need to protect those I loved. He had told me that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but how so? I was questioning my sanity at that point and I still do to this very day. I was fumbling in the dark, carrying the weight on my shoulders alone. Please don’t think here that I am excusing myself, trying to pass the buck, because that is something I will never do. I have lived with those demons ever since. After I was naked from the waist down he removed his own jeans. I could feel myself drifting off. It felt just like an out of body experience. It was not me who was standing there, it was someone else entirely. I went through the whole process in a removed state, only doing as I was instructed, nothing more and nothing less. By the end of our time there he had invaded my entire body. I was once more instructed in the art of masturbation, while he had my breast in his mouth, while also pushing his fingers deep up inside of me. How long were we there? I can’t answer that, but no one at all seemed to miss us. The only thing I could hold on to was that intercourse had not taken place. He had touched me on every part of my body, but mercifully I had escaped that. Once again that day I took an oath that it would never happen. If I had to endure this until he came to his senses, then that’s what I would have to do. But he would never put his penis inside of me no matter what. I would jump off the nearest bridge first. I prayed that someone eventually would see that all was not right, and that would bring it to an end. Not enough to feel the need to ask too many questions, just a passing odd remark that would hit home. Any more than that would run the risk of my mum being hurt, but it was such a fine line between the two, was it even achievable? I was walking a tightrope, struggling not to fall, and there was no sign of solid ground in sight.

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