I've Heard Stories About You... (REPOST)

A/N: I'm throwing out a big huge WARNING for this chapter. It's a bit touchy and maybe a bit too intense for some people. It's got child molestation/abuse in it, somewhat graphic...ish. You've been warned. If you're sensitive to it, don't bother with this chapter, you won't be missing TOO much.


The nights turned into days, turning into weeks and even a few months went by the both of them. Aside from the two boys, there wasn't much excitement. But, August was still approaching, which meant that the camping season was hardly over. Their days were boring and mundane, almost to an excessive point. He allowed her to accompany him during hunts for food and to completely move about the camp, freely. The urge to simply destroy her and make life easier had long passed with only occasional relapses. Particularly, when she received some odd 'gift from her aunt Flo,' usually somewhere in the middle of every month. He'd never seen any 'gift,' an aunt Flo, nor could he fathom how such a person could sneak into the place completely undetected to deliver -anything- to her. But, whatever the gift was, she sure as Hell never enjoyed it. -That- was beyond apparent.

They'd pulled their makeshift beds together to form one larger one and on most nights, the sex would cause sheets to be found in all sorts of places on the floor, away from the bed. She was vocal about what she wanted during those times, teaching him where to touch her and how to make her cry out for more when she knew she couldn't handle it. Sometimes, he didn't care if she came or not. On those nights, he could feel her squirming and hear her laboured breathing as she brought herself off. She never complained about it, though. When they fucked, it was hard, rough and good. Primal and animalistic. Purely Jasonesque.

++
Her eyelids felt heavier than usual, but she managed to summon the strength to open them. She was small child. 8 years old at the very most. The room she stood in was steamy and the colour was a bright sunny yellow. Deceptively sunny. There weren't any windows here and the steam made it hard for her to breathe. She hated being in hot, humid places. Hated it with a passion. She reached a tiny hand out in front of her and it connected with a glass door. A shower door. She was in a bathroom. A very very familiar bathroom, at that. As the realisation of where she was hit her, the steam seemed to clear. Not necessarily disappearing or letting up, but her eyes more adjusting themselves, freakishly to it.

Her heart began to race and she backed away from the glass door. She'd had this dream before. More than once. Yet, her subconscious demand to wake up went unheeded. She was trapped. Horrifyingly young, helpless and trapped. She felt suffocated even more, now. Just beyond the shower door was a man...and another small child. Younger than she, herself was. It was her sister, two years younger. The two of them were spitting images of each other with their only difference at that time, being the age and height between them. Both girls looked more like their mother than their father, blessedly.

The man was their father. He stood, towering, naked over her sister in the shower. The two of them playing in the water, going about a shower just like any other parent and their child might. Her sister laughed and crawled about the floor of the shower, completely unaware of their spectator. But, her father's eyes found her in the steam. He glared down at her for a moment, then held out his monstrous hand. 'Get in the tub,' he commanded. Her voice unable to come to her at that exact moment, she shook her head. She didn't want to get in the shower. Not with him. Anyone, but him. She hated showers with that man. She hated them, dreaded them, and feared them. Her sister adored them, as the baby of the family. She was never beaten, never molested, never abused.

Her father reached out, grabbing the girl's arm and pulled her toward the tub. The air seemed to get even thicker around her and she shook her head more vehemently. No! She didn't want to go into the shower! He lifts her by her arm and forces her, roughly, under the water, barely missing the younger girl playing at the back of the tub, now. In her panic, she gulps down water, choking and sputtering until her eyes water and she feels nearly ready to throw up. But she doesn't dare. Instead, she curls in on herself, letting the water run over her, all of it feeling as if it were searing her skin and further sealing her doom. She stares at her unaware sister, this time with hatred. The stupid girl wasn't even aware of what was happening, only fun for herself. Selfish bitch that she was.

'You don't tell me no, you got that? You'll do what I say or I'll make you, and you know I will, you stupid little whore.' Her father's voice rains down on her and she dares a glance upward.

'Yes, sir,' she replies, the water drowning out the weak voice.

Her father's face lost it's importance and the focus was on his hands. Those horrible monster hands. One of them bore down on her, striking her hard across the side of her face, causing her nose to bleed. 'I didn't hear you, whore.'

'Yes, sir!' she cried out, trying unsuccessfully to sniffle the blood back into her own nostril before he could see.

'Now look...you've made a mess. We can't have your sister playing around in that shit.' Then, there's a jumble of noise, voices and the squeak of someone leaving the tub. They were alone, now. Just her and father. She wished for death, even at that age, during these moments. She understood the finality of it. The absolute nothingness of death, and she craved it. She didn't understand happiness and never craved such a thing. She didn't understand what it was to crave happiness. Death was the only option of escape from her father in her world. She tried to curl herself into a tighter ball, on the floor of the tub, but there was no escape. Fat, ugly fingers moved over her back, tracing her protruding spine and up into her dirty, wet, lanky hair. 'Stop.' she commanded, but no voice left her.

The fingers tightened in her hair and jerked her head backward, til her face was being fully sprayed by the water. A second hand covered in soap moved quick and rough across her face, then the water rinsed it off just as quick. The hand in her hair pulled, motioning her to get to her feet in a hurry. She obeyed with another 'Stop,' dying on her lips. The hand in her hair didn't let up it's painful grip, but she'd learned long ago to not cry out in pain. She stayed silent. Hopes for it ending died with her silence. She kept her lips sealed, even as that second hand lathered soap on the rest of her body, those ugly fingers lingering in her more intimate areas. She shuddered against both hands, hating herself for the inability to simply end. She'd even once gone completely kamikaze, angering this man til he beat her within an inch of her life, hoping that it would do the trick. But, he always stopped short of merciful death. Bones broken, left bleeding on the kitchen floor and unable to move until well into the night. Her brother and sister knew well enough to simply leave her there and not bother her, lest they anger him and receive their own punishment. But, the times he touched her like this were the worst. It hurt when he forced his fingers into her, taking no mercy on the small, undeveloped body. It hurt when he squeezed the sides of her jaw so tight she was forced to open her mouth and he shoved his disgusting cock in. Her eyes burned with silent tears and this time was no different. It was Hell everytime.

But this time, when he pulled her tiny mouth from him, she did cry out. One last 'STOP!'
++

'STOP!' she shouted and bolted upright in the bed, startling Jason. He backed up, slamming himself into the wall behind him, and looked around for the immediate danger. It was pitch black and both of them were naked and tangled in the sheets. Sweat poured over her skin and tears ran tracks down her dirty face. Right now, she was never more glad to be filthy. A complete slap in the face to her father's constant 'clean' obsession with her. She paused, taking in the dark and the sound of quick breathing next to her. 'I need to go to the lake,' she said, suddenly crawling out of the tangle of sheets and wrapping one around herself. Before her words could even work their way into his brain, she was gone.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled on a pair of pants and went after her. When he arrived at the lake, he watched as she threw random stones into the water, shouting 'I hate you!' after casting each of them. He simply watched her, until her fingertips began to bleed and she knelt at the end of the pier. When she seemed done with throwing rocks, he moved closer, until he stood just behind her, his boots nearly touching the sheet around her. 'He did this to me, Jason,' she said, softly. 'He made me crazy enough to be here, with you.' She sniffled and lowered her face into the sheets. 'He made me a murderer. He made me crazy enough to -want- to stay here, with a deformed, legendary serial killer. He fucked me up in the head. I don't want kids or a husband. What good are they, hm? What good am I, for being a woman and not wanting such things for myself?'

She hid her face even more and cried harder. When she finally looked up and turned her face toward him, there was a sort of fire in her eyes. Her words meant nothing to him. But that fire did. Words, he understood little of them, but body language was completely different. He understood body language completely. He still didn't like to go without his face covered, but tonight had caught him off his guard. There was only a sliver of moonlight to be shown, but what little light there was, outlined the distortion of his face. Her eyes traced the lines of light, before whispering 'kiss me, Jason.' She'd uttered the words to him before, but under more passionate circumstances. Her body suggested that she was broken in some way. Or guilty of something, at the very least. He didn't understand, but the command was one of the few that he -did- understand.

He knelt down and did as she commanded, pressing his deformed lips against her own, again. At first, it was a light, almost timid pressing of lips, and then she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He understood, suddenly, what she was truly asking him for and judging by his own bodily reaction, it wasn't much to ask of him at all. With one hand, he pushed her down, til she lay on her back, the sheet covering the wood of the pier below them. He made quick work of removing his pants and slowly opening the sheet enough to cover the wood below both of them and expose her flesh to the moonlight. It was the best way he liked to see her skin. The black and white contrast of darkness and moonlight. Her tears had stopped, but she still cried out when he pushed into her. He moved slowly, this time, instinct telling him to do so. Her body language didn't demand the usual roughness between them, but something softer for this time.

Once he was fully inside of her, she wriggled around until her muscles accustomed themselves to his size and wrapped her legs tight around his waist. 'All of me, Jason.' This particular request was rare, between the two of them. Rare, but not unfamiliar. He, obediently, moved one of his hands to her mouth and pushed a finger between her lips. She swirled her tongue around it, tasting sweat and a bit of dirt, as she did so. He pulled it from her mouth and massaged the entrance to her rear. He eased the finger inside of her, painfully slow, until he had it fully enveloped. He positioned his body to sit up straighter, raising himself more onto his knees, while she supported herself with her legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed two fingers of his other hand, into her mouth and began to move his cock in and out of her, slow and hard. His fingers mimicking the movement in their respective places in her body. She sucked and moaned around his fingers, while his cock and finger thrust in and out of her body in a steady rhythm, moving faster as they both felt the coil in their bellies begin to tighten. She wanted him in every part of her that he could be in, protecting her, in away, from anyone else's intrusion.

Noone else could touch her with him there. Ever. It didn't take long for either of them to reach orgasm, still moderately sensitive from sex earlier in the evening. But, when she did, her body shook hard and she felt as if the dream had been shaken from her. This man wanted her in the most basic of ways. Nothing evil or ill-intentioned. Nothing hurtful. Simple, uncontrollable want, sometimes. But, in the end, she controlled him 100% of the time. If she said stop, he did. Harder, he did. Faster, he obeyed. It was almost painful to realise that she trusted Jason more than she'd ever trusted her own blood.

A/N pt2: The dream in this chapter is actually a recurring night terror that I have, in detail. It horrifies me, even to this day, even when I know what's going to happen. Just thought I'd share that...it's not a random thing that I just thought up.