The Storm

We sat there-in the intimidating darkness, covered only by a blanket-for hours. My breath rushed outward in an angry hurricane of yawns and sighs. He; however, remained the taciturn man I have come to know. It struck me as unsettling that I was deprived of both his voice and his appearance. How soft his skin once felt under my fingers, untainted by the prickly hair of a man’s shadow. The husk of his voice and the way it grew wispy with affection, like a tendril of smoke or wind in the stormy confines of passion. 1

“The thunder frightens you,” he declared in an ironic whisper. His hand emerged from the blackness of the night and pulled me farther away from the moonlight’s heavenly glory. “Why is that, baby? Do you have a childhood story to tell?” 2

I curled into his warm body heat and let him wrap his arms around me, even though sweat slicked my naked flesh. 3

“No,” I replied, my own voice minimized by the suspicion that others might hear. “It just reminds me of someone in heavy boots-approaching quickly. A hero…I don’t know.” 4

“And that startles you into trembling?” 5

“Why not?” 6

He began hum a familiar nursery rhythm and that sweet-smelling breath spilled over my face like satin. The scent of French vanilla coffee almost made me forget the terror of it’s past use. Yet how could I shrug off something so painful?7

“Don’t sing that,” I hissed, slapping his bare chest and abruptly ending the song. ‘Hush Little Baby’ had always been my mother’s way of calming me after my many encounters with that awful man she bedded. Her porcelain comb, decorated with acrylic paint that curled into flowers and leaves, would gently knead through my knotted hair. I could almost feel the sharp teeth on my tender skull. 8

“You don’t find comfort in such lovely poems?” he asked, pushing aside my bangs so he could see. A single tear burned my eye and he quickly caught it before it fell and dissolved forever. He licked it off his finger and smiled. “Hell, I got some beers in the fridge, if that’ll help.”9

“I don’t drink,” I said sourly. The broken beer bottles, alcohol and blood. My blood. The image was so vivid, the memory tantalizing. 10

“I know, Caroline, I was joking. What’s wrong with you?” 11

I forced a grin on my lips and whispered. “The storm…it changes things, it saves people like me.” 12

~~~~~~~~13

Serenity was bundled up in a tight fetal position-her eyes squeezed shut as if she refused to witness anything more of this world. Her body ached in anticipation, it felt like an elderly woman’s might under stress. She was only fourteen, though. It couldn’t be age-not now, not tonight. 14

“Oh, Ren?” the mocking tone of a predator sounded, exploding through the dam of utter peace. “Serene, sweetheart?” 15

A man that provoked the frequent drop of tears and a man that demanded the very thing that destroyed her. He took things, she thought, he took thing not meant to be taken. 16

The door was pulled open and light flooded in-17

(God, I wish Mom was home, she thought)18

-like a starved pack of canines that revealed all too much. He stood there. The man who wanted everything she detested and his sadistic smirk would be enough to prove such repulsiveness as necessary. 19

“I won’t hurt you,” he laughed, as she squirmed up against the head board. “I love you.” 20

Yet the thunder drummed over the mountain to a beat unknown by humanity. 21

~~~~~~~~22

Serenity lay under her stepfather-his merciless behavior repeating itself in slow cycle of vacant passion. She went to another realm when he violated her, dreaming of cuddly kittens eating from her palm. Their fur was always soft and reassuring. Unicorns pranced through a meadow tall with grass and abundant wildflowers. Turtle-shaped clouds drifted across the Summer blue sky. Today was different, though, the thunder was finally alive. 23

Lightning pulsed through every blood stream, every passageway in her body. It seemed angry, as if emotion surged through each stream of electricity. She almost expected fire to explode over her clothes-24

(that would be just as well, her mind schemed, to die instead)25

-and burn her flesh to crisp strips of fried meat. No such thing would ever happen, though, at the hands of the Storm. 26

“What the Hell?” her stepfather moaned, hovering over her as she lit like an angel. The lightning glowed through the half dressed girl and made her whole again. It crackled with each boom of thunder-a whip made of dark leather, lashing through the night. 27

Her step father scrambled up, grabbing his pants and boxers, but the lightning wouldn’t allow such a victim to escape. He cried out as Serenity’s stubby fingers reached up and touched him ever so gently, penetrating the skin with lines of electricity and pain. 28

(It smells horrible, she noted)29

Her fingers sunk into his bones and organs, gripping at each venomous piece. 30

(He isn’t made of poison, as I had thought)31

The thunder kept rolling, kept beating to a tone unknown by others…32

She withdrew from his smoldering skin and watched shockingly as he crumpled to the floor like a rag doll. 33

“Thank you,” she whispered, and the lightning streamed out of her fingers as a river. Back into the sky it went, whispering softly to all the victims tonight.