The No Ones

She stood there and stared at the door before her.  Her thoughts were jumbled with memories even as her emotions cycled through the tumult of feelings she worked so hard to run away from.  One could perceive the voices on the other side, but as hard as she attempted, still to open that door and stroll through to join in the holiday festivities seemed impossible.  Hand poised to knock, and then lowered once to rest by her side. 

“Why… why after all these years must it be so difficult.” She could not prevent the thoughts from slipping within.  Having escaped from the house she stood before years ago, only to find herself standing at this point, quaking with fear, frozen as a deer in headlights upon a lonely highway at night.  Eyes closed… Breath deep… Relax… And yet she is seized by the very memories she sought to escape, pulling her down the rabbit hole, to a place filled with tomorrows and yesterdays…

16 years earlier

The house was finally quiet as she woke with the dawn’s light; her body sore after last night’s beating.  Gingerly she maneuvered herself off the mattress on the floor, pushing aside her threadbare blanket.  Truthfully, it should have been no different than any other beating, but it was.  Her feet touch the cold wooden floor before her, spring was here but it was still chilly in the mornings.  She had given up many years before believing in fairy tales.  No one was going to rescue her. There was no Fairy Godmother waiting to wave her wand and magically turn her nightmare into a reality, in which she had loving parents, a good home, and food; never having to feel the bite of the whip or her head smashing into a wall again.

As she stood with caution, her body stretched and attempted to conform to her eleven year old frame.  The pain rocked through her, blossoming up her back; its fingers reaching out to brush against every fiber of her being.  The assault forcing a gasp from her young lips, her body doubling over; quickly she bit down upon her bottom lip in hopes of not making a sound; her only wish to not wake the Monster in the room next to hers.  Slowly the pain ebbed, fading but never truly gone. 

Too many years have gone by, the pain almost a welcome friend by now; leaving the reminder she still lived.  She no longer loved the Monster, in truth; she could not remember what it felt like to feel love.  Love was dangerous and left one open to even more pain.  It was better to feel nothing… to be nothing… than to risk allowing emotions within her small space of existence to give her hope.

Having gotten dressed she walked on her toes, to the bathroom, knowing any noise could wake the sleeping beast.  Grappling blindly for the light switch, she finally found what she sought.  The dull dead glow of the soot covered bulb filled the room.   A dribble of water fell from the faucet, just enough to not cause noise, but she could still brush her teeth.  Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink, while her knuckles turned white; she stood there staring at the image in the dirty mirror.  Though her face reflected back to her, it was not her own image she saw, but rather that of the Monster, as he leered and laughed the night before. 

After so many years, habit had developed in which one worked to escape his gaze by appearing to be invisible.  This was her super power: invisibility; no one could see her and no one noticed her.  At times she wondered if she lived in the land of “No Ones.”  Did this make her a nothing?  She stood there staring back at the reflection, wishing her brain would quiet.  She feared he would hear her, even simple thoughts somehow the beast would know, and the nightmare would begin again. 

Her hands came up to cover her mouth, willing herself not to scream as the pain racked her once more.  The knowledge that the “No Ones” would pay little to no attention to her sat upon her frail shoulders.  What did it matter to those on the outside?  She would walk into school and still “No One” would notice as she bit her lip, sitting down at her desk with effort.  “No One” would not ask if she was ok or needed help, as “No One” wish to know.  What the “No Ones” did not know allowed them to go about their lives within oblivion. 

It was all her fault.  She knew this.  Acceptance of the blame was also habit.  Obviously she had done something to deserve the fresh bruises and whip marks upon her back and legs.  She tried to remember what caused last night make it so she was not invisible. 

“Why had her power failed her?  Had she looked the wrong way?  Not fetched him a beer quickly enough?  Were the dishes washed improperly?”  Through the cyclone of questions, she could find no answer.  At times there was no answer.  In the end he enjoyed her screams, the pain he inflicted upon her.  She stood there for what felt like hours, and yet was simply minutes.  She knew it had been different.  How could it not be?  Never before had he demanded she take her clothes off.  Always in the past he left her clothed while the belt kissed her young form.  Except why the change last night…?

The memories of the night before began to assault her as she stood there, staring with haunted blue eyes in the dirty mirror, trapped once more in her own mind…

He had not been drunk, unless one counted the excitement that oozed from his very pours.  She had been hiding in her room, using the hall light to do her homework by, when he came in.  Her eyes looked up at him, a rabbit frozen upon the floor, fear and acceptance lighting her eyes that the Monster had come.  Her shoulders tensed as she waited for him to move.  The scent of his foul breath seeping over her, crushing any other as it fought to dominate her spirit. 

The Monster stood there, tall and broad, his body weight excessive from the multitude of drinking and drugs over the years.  Tendrils of fear began with her stomach, clenching her ribs making it hard for her to breathe.  Slowly they moved over her skin causing goosebumps to appear on her body.  Eyes downcast she avoided looking upon him.  Perhaps if she willed it her super power would return and he would leave, having forgotten for the moment her mere existence. 

“Little bitch…” The words hissed from his dry, cracked lips.  “Looking at men… little whore… just like your mother!”  She clenched the pen wishing she had the courage to stab him with the very tool she used to do homework.  She knew it was futile to deny his accusations.  To do so would only fuel his excitement and rage.  “Stand up!”  The order came; only still she sat there hunched over shivering, frozen in time.  “STAND UP I SAID!” His fingers ripped through the long strands of her blonde hair, dragging her across the room to the bare mattress.  She felt the dull ache flowing over her scalp attempting to tune out the pain itself. 

Her head connected with the wall, as she was thrown upon the mattress.  His breathing had hitched and grown more feverish with anticipation.  Lying there upon the bed she attempted to curl herself up, seeking protection for what was next.  The sound of his belt unclipping and sliding from his pants reminded her of a snake as it slithers towards its prey, preparing to strike.  For some reason the movie “Ricky Ticky Tavi” came to mind.  She recalled the snake as it hovered and swayed, waiting to strike down the small child, bringing the gift of death.  Why did she not die?  What made it so she was forced to endure this hell?

“Take your clothes off. “ Still she did not… no could not move.  Her muscles contracted and tightened, preventing her from standing.  His booted foot connected with her side, and a scream erupted from her soul.  She could not prevent that scream’s escape even if she had wanted to.   “Now take your fucking clothes off, or I will do it for you!” 

Placing a hand upon the wall next to her, she could feel the cold plaster under her fingers as she attempted to stand.  Her hands moved over her body, slowly removing her clothes.  Her mind blanked out the scene, allowing her to escape into her own fantasies.  Had she been able to realize it was her innocence and youth that excited him to a state of rage, perhaps she would have fought back.  No... She wouldn’t.  Nothing would prevent him once he reached this heightened state.  “No One” was there to rescue her or make the nightmare stop. 

Standing before him in only her panties, she kept her dull blue eyes staring at the ground, her hair hanging in long strands about her head and face.  “Take all your fucking clothes off, bitch…” Her fingers shook as the hitched within the elastic band of her underwear, little white ones with small faded pink flowers etched upon them.  Lifting her right foot, followed by her left one she stepped out of the small scrap of cloth, letting it simply lie there upon the hardwood floor.  The coolness of the room barely penetrated her brain, standing there with her young burgeoning body just beginning to enter puberty bared to his eyes. 

He wrapped the belt around his hand, creating a firm grip as he stood back.  The sound it made slicing through the air caused time to slow down.  Her mind looked upon the scene as one watching a movie in slow motion.  The feeling engulfed her leaving her watching in horror and fascination as if it took forever for the beast to connect his whip to her body.  The screams came forth.  She could not resist them.  The kiss of each stroke of the belt caused her to run around the Beast, in that empty room, all except for that mattress.  His lips turned upwards in a smile, as glee and excitement flowed from him.  The backs of her legs and back soon became covered, as did the front.  She could barely hear his words, her screams flooding her mind and soul.

“Bitch… Whore… Slut… Like your mother, the fucking whore! I will show you what a fucking man is!”  He snarled; drool and spittle flying around the room.  He laughed at his own images he evoked with each sting of his belt and the foul language he used to beat her psychologically.  Was there ever a time she loved this Monster?  She could not recall.  A far off memory seeps through recalling a time when there was laughter and smiles, obviously just a fragment of another reality.  She does not know that child who laughed and giggled.  The belt comes down across her young breasts and stomach, bringing her crashing to her knees before him.  Her arms wrapped around her frame seeking to hide, and yet he does not cease; her submission driving him further over the edge.

Her brain screamed out “Stop!  STOP!  I AM NOT HER!” yet her voice was lost amidst the cries wrenched from her soul.  It felt as if “Time” laughed at her.  The voices within her brain laughed at her, mocking her weakness and inability to fight back.  The “No Ones” turned away, ignoring her pleas, leaving her to the Monster, for him to feast upon her flesh and pain.   The woman who should of loved and protected her, lost within the haze of drugs, down stairs.  Once she called her mother… now she simply thought of her as nothing. 

Finally the beating ends.  He stands above her, staring down at her bruised and battered body upon the wooden planks, for what feels like eternity.  Turning he walks from the room leaving her huddled, a mass of bruises and clotting blood.  He hasn’t even acknowledged her, called her by name.  She is not even sure he knows her name, or if she exists enough to have an identity. 

Crawling over to the dirty mattress she lies there, curled within herself, rocking back and forth.  Quiet tears creep down her cheeks as she whispers “I am not her… I am not her…” repeatedly, until the blessed darkness overwhelms her, allowing her to pass out.   Her mind comes back to stare once more at the image, and for the first time she sees herself;  long blond hair, pale haunted blue eyes, and skinny body.  She knows if she stays she will die.  Where this thought comes from she knows not but as it takes hold of her a light flares up in those eyes.  Escape… She can escape… She had to if she wished to live.  Finishing up in the bathroom she moved down the stairs, trying her best not to cause a sound.  She avoided breakfast, but grabbed an orange to stick in her backpack.  The knowledge of freedom rushes through her, causing her to shake with fear.  What if he found her?  She could not let that happen.  She had to run… RUN!  She had to leave and keep on running. 

Opening the door partway, she took one last look around the building she had called home for her bare existence, before slipping through and outside into the brisk morning air of early May.  Where could she go?  Who would believe her?  She needed to hide. 

Heading down the street past her school, she heard the morning bell signaling the start of the day, only she continued on.  “RUN!” Her inner self demanded, and so she did, running till she came to the City Library.  She hid amongst the books, allowing the hours to slip by, losing track of time as her body ached and called out for her to rest.  She nibbled slowly upon her orange, reading the stores of books before her.  Here she was safe.  The Beast could not find her. 

Morning became afternoon, and soon afternoon slipped away to become evening.  A Librarian walked over to where she sat hunched within the Children’s corner, cuddled upon a bean bag.  Leaning down to touch her arm, meaning no harm, only wishing to inform her the library was about to close; and yet she screamed and jumped, shaking as she scrambled backwards. 

The elder woman could see she was harmed by the bruises peeking up and over through her clothes, not to mention the child’s behavior.  Coming to the conclusion she needed help she motioned back towards her desk, where she asked the young girl if she was hungry or perhaps thirsty.  The girl nodded slowly and accepted the hand with caution, hearing her own stomach rumbling in response to the thought of the offered Graham Crackers and Apple Juice.  While she sat and nibbled delicately upon the snack, the Librarian called 911. 

Soon the girl was surrounded by various police and social workers.  One, a female also, made her retreat into the bathroom and present her back for viewing.  Pictures were snapped and various reports filled out.  Questions were asked of how she became in such a state.  The adults all assured her she would not have to go back to the “Monster.”  She was going somewhere safe.  She listened but did not believe.  There was nowhere safe, and yet for the first time in her meager life the “No One” became “Some One.”  A small blossom of hope opened within her.  It was tiny, a speck really, and yet it filled her with such possibility that maybe it was finally over.  She was no longer a “Nothing.”

Present day

She came forth from her memories to find herself standing once more facing the door.  The voices were still flowing through the wooden structure.  She had run for 16 years, it was time to finally stop running.  Lifting her hand she knocked, resolution, determination and fear flooding that simple knock, forcing it to sound as a cannon echoing through her skull. 

The door opened to find her faced with the “Monster,” himself, only he had grown old.  He was no longer the young, strong vicious man he once was, who filled her reality with nightmares, and her dreams with visions of darkness.  Now he stood there bent and withered by age and time.  His eyes, the same blue as hers, came to rest upon her face.  She was surprised to see them fill with tears and fear, the haunted expression of one who has been hunted by his own demons, all as she gazed upon him. 

Yes, he was the “Monster,” and still, he was not.  There was no longer anything for her to fear.  She had finally won.  She was no longer a “No One”…  A “Nothing”…  A feeling of strength and pride of who she had become filled her, giving her the courage to push back the fear for the last time.  Now as she glanced at his shrunken form, she could see he had become that which he had sought to make her, “Nothing and No One.”   She found she could no longer hate him, and only felt pity for the pathetic beast he was.  As their gazes stood locked, unable to retreat, her voice reaches out filled with ice and regret…

“Hello Father, it has been a while.”