Finding Us

"I am so Dead. Mom is going to kill me. I should be home already. Damn it," I thought to myself. That teacher doesn't understand how my life is total hell at home. She didn't know that I was a maid and that I had hidden my injuries.

A teacher wanted to speak with me about an assignment I didn't complete. I am freaking out. It wasn't because the teacher wished to talk to me, but how my mother would react to me arriving home late. Getting home from school a few minutes later than usual wouldn't frazzle most kids. Yet, it has my nerves on edge.

My mom was standing in front of the door waiting for me when I opened it. I tremble, knowing that I will hear my mom yell and belittle me.

"You are late, Rayna Lynn. Where the hell have you been? Who were you out screwing around with?"

"It's not like that. My teacher Mrs. Shannon needed to speak to me after school. I had forgotten to turn in an assignment, and she wanted to ensure that I would complete it. So I came right home afterward. I swear I did." I say with an anxious voice.

"You bitch. You're always making excuses; nothing is your fault. Gosh, you are such a stupid, worthless whore. How did I end up with a daughter like you? Get your ass in the kitchen and get dinner started; once dinner is over, you can clean the mess up,"

"Okay, I am on it," I say as I run into the kitchen and start dinner.

Our kitchen is an enormous room, white with stainless steel appliances. I place ingredients on the island near the stove to make Chili. The dining room table can seat up to ten people. I soon had all the ingredients mixed, the ground beef browned, and added to the Chili. Beau, my brother, and Travis, his best friend, walked in as it was simmering.

"Hey there, cunt, dinner smells great; get Travis and me a drink. Make it quick. I don't have all day." As I was doing what I was asked, I hear, "Move it, damn it. I said we don't have all damn day to sit here and waste. My God, Travis, now do you see why we call her worthless? It's like Rayna has no clue what her ass needs to be doing. She can't do anything right. It's no wonder she doesn't have any friends. Who wants to be friends with someone like that?" Beau says, laughing.

"I sure wouldn't. Rayna is a whore. Who knows how many guys have banged that cunt of hers?" Travis says as he stares at me, making my skin crawl, winking at me, making me feel uncomfortable.

I've never had sex before. How am I a whore? I don't have time for friendship. Whenever I made friends I couldn’t hang out with, they would soon find someone that could. I spent my time cooking, cleaning, and doing things my family didn’t want to do. I am a maid to them. In situations where they want something but don't want to get up, they will yell for me, and I will have to get it or else I will be yelled at or hit.

As I went to the refrigerator, mulling over whether I should throw the two bottles of water at them, I grabbed the water bottles. I decided against pitching it at them and handed the water to the boys. I turn to finish dinner. With my back turned to the boys, I stirred the Chili, ensuring it was not sticking, when I heard the front door open and shut. My heart sank; my dad’s home. He scares me more than anyone I have ever met; my nerves kicked in again. Dad is the one that is the worst, especially if dinner isn't on the table. Dinner isn't on the table, and I have yet to set it, "Well, shit, I am so fucking dead." I thought with my heart racing.

My father is a tall, muscular man; he does a lot of damage when he hits me. I wish I could just fade into nothingness. Instead, I am stuck here. Dad walks into the kitchen and says, "Hi," to Beau, and Travis then turns to look at me. His face turns to pure hatred.

"Rayna, why isn't dinner on the table, you lazy bitch? How often have I told you that my food better be on the table when I get home? Why do you never listen to me, whore?” Dad yells as he walks over to me and punches me in the face and stomach. I bend over, holding my midsection, gasping for air. He hits me again in the gut; I fall to the floor on my knees. He then kicks me a few times in the ribs and says, "Get the fuck off the floor and set the fucking table for dinner. Then go to your room. You are fat; you don't need any food,"

With dinner done and the table set, I run up to my room as quickly as possible. My ribs hurt. It ached to move too fast or take deep breaths. Once in my bedroom, I do as much of my homework as possible. My room has the bare minimum of furniture. There is a twin bed on one wall and a dresser on another.

I give the household a couple of hours to eat; I am out of their way and don't have to worry about getting hit again. Then I head down to clean the kitchen. As I was washing the dishes, my dad punched me in the ribs as he walked by me to get to the refrigerator. I go to wipe off the stove and get slapped in my face. "Why are you taking so long to clean this up, you slut? Clean this up faster, clean the living room, and get your fat ass to bed, you stupid bitch," He growls.

After I finished the kitchen, I headed into the living room, walking around, organizing, and cleaning. Then head back upstairs to finish my homework. As I put my books in my backpack before bed, Beau comes to my room. "Hey, whore make sure you are up in time to have breakfast done for us; that way, we aren't running late in the morning. You understand me, bitch?" He says before he slams my door shut, not waiting for my reply.

"What a prick," I thought as I grabbed my night attire and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I turned the water on, wanting it to heat a little. I glance in the mirror. I have long, dirty blond hair and bright green eyes. Pretty, at least I thought, but my family always told me I was ugly. So I must be.

***

It is now about 11:30 p.m., and I hear my bedroom door open. Thinking my father wanted me to do something or another for him, I didn't bother to turn to see who opened my door. I felt someone climb into my bed, grab me by the waist, and flip me over. I scream. Looking to see who it is, "What in the hell, Travis? Get out of my room, you ass," I say. He slaps me and forces my hands above my head. I cry for help. I fought and yelled, but no one came to help me. Eventually, he tells me he will kill me if I don't stop fighting him. So, I stopped fighting.

He pulls my pants and panties off me while still holding my hands above my head. He then pulls his shorts and boxers off himself and rams into me. Just like that, I was now what my family always called me, a whore and a slut. Yet, I survived getting raped where I should have been the safest in my home, in my bed.