Lilies on her grave

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Chapter 15

Awakenings part two

Norma Jean slowly opened her eyes. She was groggy, and all that she could see was a big bright blur. Her head felt like it weighed one hundred pounds, and the right side of her neck hurt like hell. Her entire body felt sore and stiff. She tried to sit up, and in doing so heard the slight sound of something metal echoing softly, as it clanged against a hard surface. The memories in her head were just as fuzzy as her vision, but slowly they started reform.

She remembered some weird guy rear ending her, and then…oh my god, she thought, he had attacked her! He had stabbed something into her neck. She had fought the best she could and remembered making it back to her car and speeding down the dark country road. Her heart started to race, as she began to shake her head, desperately trying to clear the cob webs. She didn’t remember anything past getting behind the wheel of her car. That soft echoing sound of metal reached her ears again, as she moved her body.

The sensation of something heavy around her right ankle made it through the fog in her head. Reaching out and she felt a cold piece metal wrapped around her leg. Her vision began to clear, and the sight of an iron cuff pad locked to her leg became crystal clear. The soft echoing sound of metal had come from the three-foot-long chain that ran from the ankle cuff to a large metal eyelet, which had been embedded in the concrete floor she was laying on. “No…no…no,” she said to herself out loud pulling at the chain and cuff around her ankle. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She screamed as loud as she could. Over and over again, she cried out, but it was no use. Desperation began to consume her, as she frantically looked around to get a bearing on where she was, and how she could escape.

She was in the corner of a small room, which was maybe ten foot by ten foot, if that. She was lying on an old stained mattress. A long, bright light, hung from the ceiling. The floor of the room was concrete, and there was a small, metal drain cover, in the middle of the floor. The walls and ceiling were covered with large thick foam panels, and there was an old wooden chair, much like the one her priest sat in during church service, in the opposite corner of the room, and next to her mattress was one of those portable toilet chairs they had in hospitals.

She scanned the room, looking for anything that she could use. Then she saw it, the outline of a door, within the foam panels on the wall in front of her. She struggled to her feet and with all the strength she could find, she made a mad dash toward the door. Norma Jean fell hard against the concrete floor when the length of chain ended abruptly. “Help me!” she screamed. “Somebody! Anybody! Please…,” she cried, tears continuing to run freely down her cheeks. The door, just a few teasing feet in front of her, abruptly swung open. Norma Jean’s heart raised with relief, but quickly fell with despair, as the man that had attacked her now stood between her and her freedom. A wicked grin stretched across his lips, as Norma Jean suddenly realized that she was naked, and as helpless as the day she had been born.

She scampered backwards as fast as she could, until she found herself backed into the corner, with nowhere left to go. “Please mister…” she begged. “Just let me go…I…I won’t tell anyone. I swear…”

Mark strode cockily into the room, closing the door behind him, and squatting down next to the metal loop, which was keeping Norma Jean his captive. He grabbed the chain and shook it violently, as he made some menacing noises. The young girl screamed and tried to back away. Mark laughed out loud as he stood up and walked over to the big chair in the corner and took a seat.

“Are…are you going to rape me?” Norma Jean managed to asked.

“Already did that,” Mark answered, getting a sense of arousal from the look upon the young girl’s face, at the realization that her innocence had already been taken. “But yes, I do planning on doing that quite a bit more,” he promised. “And from now on, you’ll be wide awake, so that you can enjoy every minute of it.”

Norma Jean let out another scream, in a last ditch effort, praying that someone would be close enough to hear her. Mark stood up and screamed at the top of his lungs, right alongside her, before taking a seat and laughing out loud. “Scream all you want little one, there’s no one near to hear you.”

“Are…are you going to kill me?”

“You know, you’re the first girl to ever ask me that,” Mark replied. “Yes,” he answered coldly. “Yes, I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to bury you somewhere where you’ll never be found. But when I do, depends entirely on you. The longer I stay amused, the longer you stay alive.”

Norma Jean started to cry uncontrollably again, as her breath came in gasps. Mark stood up and took his clothes off, making sure to remove his class ring. No need for a repeat of the last girl, the told himself, before sitting back down it the chair. He grabbed his penis and began to play with himself, unit he was ready for the real thing. He made his way to the edge of the mattress and got down onto his knees. “Come here,” he ordered. Mark knew she wouldn’t listen. They never do at first. He liked it when they didn’t listen. God, he thought, she looked just like his mother, in all the pictures hanging about all of the walls of the house. The idea of killing his mother was all he thought about. He wanted nothing more than to ruin her life, just like she had ruined his. But he had made a promise to his father, and Mark Karle was a man of his word, if nothing else. So, Norma Jean would have to scratch his itch for now.

Mark grabbed the chain and began to pull Norma Jean toward him. She began to scream, and kicked at him. Mark snatched her leg out the air, and with one quick yank, Norma Jean was underneath him. She tried to pull away from him, but found that Mark was far too strong, and that she couldn’t break free from his iron like grip. She tried turn on to her side, as she struck out at his face with her hands.

Mark swatted her hands away easily. “That’s it,” he said to her. “Fight.”

Norma Jean screamed and punched him in the chest, which was the only thing she could reach. Mark took the punch, and slapped her across the face as hard as he could. He wanted to punch her, to really show her who was boss, but he remembered what had happened to the last girl he had hit too hard.

Norma Jean felt a burning sensation flash across the skin on the left side of her face. Her vision began to blur again, and her head began to spin. Next thing she knew, she was on her stomach, and Mark was fully on top of her. She could feel his hot breath in her right ear. He grunted several times, as he painfully entered her from behind. Tears flowed down her face, and she screamed in agony.

She lost all concept of time, and eventually blacked out from the shock. When she came too, she was alone once again. There was some dried blood on the inside of her left inner thigh. Her insides still hurt, and she felt so dirty. The smell of Old Spice was still in her nose, and it made her gag. She looked over and saw that a plastic bucket of water and a wash cloth were next to her now, as well as a jar of pea flavored baby food. She grabbed the wash cloth and began to scrub her body clean, trying her best to wash any feeling of Mark Karle from her.

She placed the cold wash cloth against the left side of her face, which still stung. He had told her to fight, and she did. That seemed to get him off, she thought to herself. Maybe he would only keep her alive as long as she fought. He had said that the longer she kept him amused the longer he would keep her alive. If he wanted a fight, then she was going to give him one, she vowed, opening the jar of baby food. She would need to keep her strength up, and maybe she could use the jar as some kind of weapon when he came back, which she knew he would.

* * *

Mark stood in front of the mirror, looking smugly at his reflection, as the sound of the water running into the sink was just an echo in his thoughts. Norma Jean had had a little more fight in her then the others, he thought, rubbing the spot on his chest where she had punched him. It had made the whole experience that much more thrilling. He had broken the spirits of the others so quickly, that they no longer were as appealing to him as they had first been. He would have to take his time with Norma Jean, he told himself. He would have to control his urges, and space out their time together.

“You feel like a big man now, don’t you,” his reflection said.

Mark puffed out his chest, and nodded his head.

“Marky!” the shrill voice of his mother cut through his thoughts like fingernails running down a chalk board, causing him to wince and giving him an instant head ache.

“Not big enough to do what really needs to be done,” his reflection retorted.

Mark hung his head low, and exhaled a hard breath at the same time. His reflection was right, and he knew it. All of the horrible, and violent, things he had done, and was currently doing, and he couldn’t take care of one old, bed ridden, bitch, that constantly made his life a living hell. He cupped his hands under the running water and brought it up to his face, letting the cold liquid wash away his temper, which was quickly rising.

He walked into his mother’s room, before she could call his name again. The all too familiar smell of shit greeted him, as he made his way to his mother’s side.

“About fucking time,” she said. “I smell like shit.”

“If you’d just call me before you went, I could get you over to the portable toilet, and you wouldn’t have to shit yourself,” Mark scolded.

His mother laughed in his face. “Then you couldn’t prove to me just how much you love me.”

Mark’s face started to turn red. It would be so easy, he told himself. One hand wrapped around her scrawny neck. He could even bury her right next to Tracy, and no one would be the wiser. The thought of visiting Norma Jean again entered his mind, as he took off his mother’s diaper. He had just told himself that he would have to control his urges, so that he didn’t break the young girl’s spirit too quickly. “Don’t forget to give mama her bath,” his mother said, in a very seductive voice, which made him visibly ill. He did his best to finish as quickly as possible, and then retired to his room. He laid there on his bed, staring at the popcorn ceiling, while his mind relived his latest encounter with Norma Jean.

He found himself getting hard, as he pictured her helpless, naked body underneath his. “Do it,” he heard his voice say. Mark got up and stood before the mirror on his dresser. “Just do it,” his reflection told himself.

“I thought that we agreed to take our time with this one?”

“We did, but a little extra indulgement from time to time, can’t hurt anything…can it? Besides, I think you earned it, after all you just had to put up with.”

“Maybe…” Mark said, his voice trailing off, as the thoughts of a second session with Norma Jean began to make his pulse quicken.

“You know you want to. It’s been too long since you had a plaything in the house. And what good is having a plaything if you can’t play with it whenever you want? And you know the more time you spend down there, the less time you have to be up here. With her. That’s all you ever do now. Hang around the house, waiting for dear old mother to summon you to clean up her shit. If she really loved you, she’d use the portable toilet like you said.”

“I know she does it on purpose,” Mark insisted. “You know when you have to go.”

“Any minute now, she’s gonna be calling your name again. You know I’m right,” his reflection said. “You just need to man up and do what needs to be done.”

“I want to,” Mark said, balling up his hands and squeezing so hard that he heard his knuckles cracking. “But I can’t, you know that! I made father a promise, and…”

“And Mark Karle is a man of his word,” his reflection said, in a whiney tone. “Dad’s not here anymore, and the way it looks, mommy dearest is going to be here for a long time, which means more and more years of cleaning up her shit. You just need to put her out of her misery. That way her and dad can be together again.”

“Shut up,” Mark roared, slamming a heavy fist onto top of the wooden dresser, causing the sound of cracking wood to sound out. “You need to shut your fucking mouth!”

You need to shut your fucking mouth, before you wake her up.”


“Now you’ve done it,” his reflection scolded.

“Marky, I’ve shit myself again!”

Mark’s reflection began to laugh “I don’t wanna be that guy that tells you “Told you so”.

Without saying a word, Mark slammed his fist down upon the top of his dresser again, and again, causing several more cracks to appear.

“If you just listen to me, we can be done with the shit detail, and hit the open road. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

Mark lowered his head, and took a deep breath, and held it for several seconds before exhaling it loudly, trying his best to slow his heart rate, and lower his blood pressure. “I can’t,” he whispered, in a low, defeated voice.

“Then go and have some fun, and deal with mommy dearest later.”

Mark looked up and gazed at his reflection. He looked himself in the eye, and slowly nodded his head. That was what he truly needed right now at this very moment in time. It was the only way that he felt that he was truly free.


Mark walked out of his room, and strode quickly past his mother’s doorway, as he made his way to the basement. He came to stand before the door leading to his safe space, and felt his pulse quicken, as his anticipation began to rise. Norma Jean had fought him before. Before he had fully taken her for the first time. The first time that she had been awake, and fully aware of what he was doing to her. He hoped that she still had more fight in her.

Mark entered the one place in the entire world, where he felt truly happy. Truly in control. Norma Jean was curled up in a ball in the corner right where he had left her. She was sobbing, uncontrollably, and her body was visibly shaking. Her hair had become a tangled mess, and there were smears of dirt running up and down her legs. Mark slammed the door shut, as he entered the room, and took great pleasure in seeing the young girl’s body flinch at the sound.

He crossed the distance between him and her with only a few strides, as he confidently entered the inner space of the chain’s distance. He squatted down at the side of the mattress and ran a lone finger up one of Norma Jean’s legs, starting at the ankle and ending at the young girl’s thigh. “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you,” he said, in a sincere voice, leaning in even closer. “It’s not like I want to do the things I do. I have to. I feel this…compulsion from somewhere deep within me. It’s like a voice in my head that’s screaming, and screaming. Over and over, and it will only become silent when…well you know when. I don’t really even enjoy it…”

Norma Jean let out a primal scream, as she moved with an unexpected speed, catching Mark completely off guard. He tried to back away from her. To make it back outside of the chain’s range, but she got to him first. She punched him hard it he chest, and Mark felt a searing pain, followed by a warm sensation. He scooted backward across the floor, and could see his blood starting to soak through the cloth of his shirt, right above his heart. His eyes flashed to the young girl, who was crouched in a defensive posture. In her right hand was a piece of glass from the jar of baby food he had left behind.

Mark slowly got to his feet and walked over to his throne like chair. Keeping his back to Norma Jean, he took off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, and inspected the wound. It was deep, but not deep enough to have done any real damage. He slid his pants off, folded them and placed them on the seat of the chair. Next, he slid his class ring from his right ring finger and gently placed in on top of his pants. “I was trying to be sincere before,” he said, his back still to the girl.

“Fuck you!” Norma screamed.

“Though I did lie about one thing,” Mark said, turning to face Norma Jean, with his man hood fully engorged. “I’m really going to enjoy this.”

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