Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.
Although now 31 Emma had just finished her degree at university.
Her life and upbringing had been extremely good, at least on the surface. The only child of staunch church attendees, life in leafy Surrey had a lot to offer a quiet young girl. The abuse, however, was something she had known almost since birth. Her parents believed having carnal knowledge of another was a sin, so by default Emma’s subsequent conception was very sinful. Her father was the main protagonist while her mother feigned indifference to the physical and mental torture inflicted on what she described as ‘her cherub’. Visits to the surgery, and occasionally the hospital were explained as the clumsy actions of a very active child but those visits stopped the night her father entered her room, smiling and smelling of whisky. She was never quite able to forget the shining lunacy of his eyes as he slurrex that he had something special for her and laid down. As he staggered out, bleeding and utterly beaten, his attempt to encourage her to keep it a secret could hardly have been more unnecessary; although she had approached teachers before about her her home life, the beatings she had received at home for her treacherous lies had made her reticent to speak out again. Besides she wouldn’t even know where to begin
Life got progressively worse after that. With her home life in tatters she reacted the only way she could; lashing out at school. More reports of her exploits resulted in more beatings at home, but by then she was resigned to having done something worth of the abuse. Sunday after Sunday she watched her father espouse the virtues of a good, decent Christian life as her mother snoothed her hair and smiled at her husbands words of wisdom, which were seized upon by the congregation. He was quite the epitomy of a good man, the used to say. At times she had attempted to reach out to her mother, the woman who carried her but was reminded that she was was the product of sinful lust and not to enrage her poor father by entertaining such folly.
Then one day the unthinkable happened. Emma was by now 17 and working at her parents village bakery. Her school life had ended with little in the way of qualifications, which had seen her hospitalization as a result of her fathers disappointment. Somehow her parents convinced the police that an out of village mugger was responsible while she lay in a coma and when she awoke the steely gaze of her father burning through her skull convinced her to not argue. Besides being at the bakery not only gave them the best chance of watching her every move but the chance to exercise the fullest control by not paying hervany money. At the end of the week, on Saturday evenings after dinner, her father would go to great lengths to the relate his contempt for her lack of motivation and skill for her work before taking his belt too her. While customers chided her gently for her entire body being clothed even in the peak of summer he took those remarks that she was obviously now a beautiful young woman as the most perverted sin of all, which was all her own fault, her mother scolded.
Yet there she was, that Sunday afternoon, serving cakes and pastries to the villagers who were enjoying the sun after the mornings service and lunch. She was blissfully unaware of her fathers particularly explosive after service speech and his subsequent flustered mopping of his brow as he apologized, saying he must be coming down with something. Mr Jenkins, the butcher, had successfully directed him towards their pub, hoping a few drinks may lead to some less thought out words he could then gossip about but how wrong he was. Emma’s dad had sat there in complete silence, staring fixedly at the spirit bottles, drinking double after double. After his ninth, he pointedly stood up, walked to the centre of the pub , announced in a clear but solemn voice that the time had come, then left the stunned pub to contemplate what he meant. Had they followed him they would have witnessed the last act of Arthur J. Harrison.
Emma first became aware of a commotion outsixe as she filled the box with scones for Edith. She filtered Edith’s words of praise for her parents sensibilities as ever, but finally became aware of a more palpable silence. She looked up to see the main road at a standstill. She noted a few were making drinking gestures with their hands as she opened the shop door, stepped out and witnessed what was to be the end of life as she knew it. Her father crying uncontrollably, raising his hands to the sky and looking very much the worse for drink was walking in the middle of of the road. His shoulders stooped he ignored her as he made his way to the front of the police station, where he dejectedly turned to face her. His face was that of someone who, finally, had realised the full consequences of his actions. As he looked at her with a mixture of pleading and self pity, a cold smile eased it’s way from her face as she took her apron off then her blouse, thus revealing the welts, scars and bruises that all but completely covered her arms, shoulders and upper back. An audible gasp of shock exploded from the considerable crowd as, eyebrows raised, she used her chin to point at the police station. With one final, defeated sigh Arthur turned and walked in, followed moments later by a very determined Emily.
The court case, and resulting conviction, caused nothing short of a public scandal! The good Christian family baker, his wife having suffered a nervous breakdown from which she would never recover much less leave the hospital where she would reside until her death, had been a child abuser! His defence, such at is was, centered on his having been spoken to by God himself regarding his shockingly detailed confession. The judge was not impressed by this, instead allowing Emily’s sickening account of her abuse to be the devestating truth. Sentencing that life should mean life, he sincerely hoped Emily could now return to a semblance of a decent life as he ordered her father taken away. Which it was anything but as Emily sold what was her bakery and moved to London. A string of failed relationships and careers trailed behind her as she struggled to make sense of it all with her therapist. She didn’t have any idea what life was supposed to be! Which is how she found herself at university.