The Forgotten Years

Ah where to begin with this one? I guess I can’t really sum it up neatly so I’ll start by saying that if you don’t like your head being screwed with, this is not your story. It goes back and forth-from the tormented mind of Spider and Yvonne Wilkinson, telling both their stories not just of the events in
David Cronenberg’s Spider but before their lives fell apart and what lead to their downfall.
Note: The person talking as I is Yvonne.

Dedication: As always, Dally, I write this with you in my head. Also, “my girls”-thanks for being the inspiration in everyway imaginable. I hope it does justice.

1: Fallen Angel
I wasn’t always this way-I sure the hell didn’t want this for my life. So how did it come to be? Well, we’d have to go back…Back to my childhood, one full of broken dreams and broken homes. I can’t ever recall a time in my childhood that didn’t have drugs or prostitution in it-not one. My mum had men in and out of our flat day in and day out, it never ended. In time, the men started to look at me-and thus my world of drugs, sex, and booze began at just 16...
The shades were drawn, though it was mid-afternoon, a hot and sultry afternoon in East London. So far Yvonne had seen at least three men come and go, one getting so loud and unbearable she raced up to the roof and easily finished off three cigarettes before she saw the man leaving, no doubt satisfied.
She shook her head in disgust, her blonde hair swirling about her face as she stubbed out the cigarette and went down-stairs, sliding inside her open bedroom window, unnoticed by her mother, of course. She vowed to be stronger, to be better than her…Or until that afternoon when they came in: tall, dark, handsome, and deadly-Yvonne felt a prickle of fear as they came in about quarter after two. They were both dressed all in black, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses even after they came inside. Her mother smiled broadly at the two, the taller one smiling back, as she took his hand and lead him to her room, shutting it hard, the lock bolting seconds after.
Yvonne would have given anything to have been back on that roof, safe, or safer than where she currently was. The other man looked her over, a disturbed look that sent a shockwave down her spine, chilled her to the bone. He smiled, a deadly smile that surely melted hearts with a single flash, pearly whites. But not her. She stared at him then walked to her room, almost making it to the roof, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “What’s your hurry?” the other man asked. She controlled her breathing as he led her back in the window, laying her down on her back.
She swallowed. She’d heard horror stories of rapes, beatings, even murders, and she now lay defenseless in this man’s presence, one that scared her more than death itself. Because of the heat, she was dressed in a simple dress. How she cursed herself then! She would have given anything to have been in the tightest clothes she owned, so tight even the horniest bastard would have given up.
He smiled at her again, taking off his glasses. She would never forget those eyes: light blue, like pieces of ice. Lifeless. Eyes that didn’t care of the innocence that lay in his hands. They wanted and needed, she saw that then, she saw it in every man that came here.
He started so slowly and subtly she almost didn’t notice it, his hand trailing up her leg. “So soft” he said, stroking up and up, until he was just outside her. She shut her eyes, counting backwards in her head, trying to ignore the inevitable. She felt him undo the buttons on her dress, gently and slowly, until her pale, pink flesh was exposed. She kept her eyes shut and forced herself to focus on anything else. He traced her body with the tips of his fingers, making her flinch, each movement disgusted her and made her hate this man and in time all men. He stopped touching her and stood, taking his time to untuck his shirt, sliding it up and off, his hands effortlessly moving to his belt, from there his pants so that he was stark naked.
Yvonne sighed. Why was he taking his fucking time? She opened her eyes and saw him, sitting there, looking at her, smiling, now like a predator, gone was the smile of a charmer. Now there was just a beast. She stared at him, her eyes cold and hard, daring him. As if he understood, he forcefully grabbed her knickers and slid them down and off, then he forced her upright, holding on to her arm. She smacked him across the face, her nails sharp and cut him deep. He touched the blood and looked at her. “Oh. You’re going to pay for that.” She glared at him, daring him again. He looked at her, then shoved her head down into his lap. She tried to pull up, but he was too strong and he held her down there. He jerked her head up and held it just above his stiff prick. His hand went to the back of her neck, holding on tightly. “Suck” he said, pressing her face closer and closer. “Suck.” She took a deep breath and obliged to the man’s demands. He smiled and held her neck still, though not as tightly, his head tilted back, his eyes closed in deep satisfaction. Yvonne was disgusted-with herself, her mother, this man that was shredding away her last of innocence.
He gently pulled her upright again. She turned her neck and spit, the taste of him still lingering in her mouth. He shoved her down. “Enough with that. Let’s move on to the main course.” He forcefully spread her legs apart, sliding inside her, hard and rough, shoving himself deeper and deeper. She gasped-it had nearly knocked the wind out of her, feeling something like that for the first time, and she shut her eyes, feeling him on her, hearing him groan and moan, mummering things that didn’t make sense. She bit down on her lip-she knew her first time wasn’t going to be some magical event, but she didn’t think it would go over like this either. She just lay there and hoped he would hurry up and finish. But he didn’t-he was a pro and knew how to drag it on and on. When he did finish, it was fast, his head tilted back, his body moving harder and harder, making Yvonne tear up a little, and at last he spent himself inside her.
He pulled out and smirked at her before pulling his clothes on, then walking out to wait for the other man. Yvonne lay there, in pain and disbelief. She cursed her mother, every guy that she let in the place, and none more so than the one whose name she never knew…
My mother blamed me-she actually had the nerve to blame me for what that first man did to me! No matter-she got her dues as they say. I suppose some day I’ll get mine as well.