|[Story Name]||The Bad Seed|
a True Story
I should've realized what was going to happen, but I refused to see it. I couldn't believe that such evil existed, and by denying it, I ruined the rest of my life. I can never forget what happened to me, no matter how much I might wish to. It started back when we were teenagers -- my brother Billy and I. Billy and I were two of six kids, raised in your average family. He was four years older than I was, and for the most part ignored me -- except when I turned thirteen.I was the only girl in the family, and I've since read that it's normal to see some sexual activity between siblings -- playing doctor and so forth -- and that's pretty much what happened then. He'd trap me in my room and try to pull up my shirt so he could see my newly growing breasts, that sort of thing. Our other brothers did it too, but not nearly as much. It went on for a while, until I finally complained to my mother -- and she made them stop. I didn't think about it often, but every once in a while, in the years that followed, I'd catch Billy looking at me with an odd gleam in his eye -- that made me nervous. But it had stopped, and once he went away to college, I more or less forgot about it.
Well, when I was 17 Billy got married to Shanda, a really nice girl. They were both barely graduated from college, and it looked like they had a nice life ahead of them. Shanda came from a very wealthy family, and Billy started working in her father's stockbroking firm, and quickly was promoted. Within four years they had had a house, two nice cars, plenty of money -- everything they could want. Except a child.
I'll never forget the day that Billy came over to the house and told us the doctors said Shanda could never have children. He was devestated. I felt really bad for him.
He and I had never been close, but over time I'd stopped being mad at him for "fooling around" with me when I was younger. I'd gotten a psych degree, and I knew that it wasn't that abnormal. Plus, he'd stopped being a bossy older brother, and had been really nice to me when I was in college -- a couple times he sent me money just because -- said he knew I was a starving college student. And now, with the pain of Shanda's infertility shadowing his life, I thought I could help him.
I was working in a bookstore that summer, waiting to get into grad school, since a plain psych degree was useless. I began to spend a lot of time with Billy and Shanda, trying to help them out. I had a lot of free time on my hands, since my boyfriend Jeff was on active duty in the Gulf. We'd been seeing each other for almost two years, and I was sure he was Mr. right. He was as religious as I was, and we both didn't believe in sex before marriage. I knew I was lucky to have someone like that, and I couldn't wait for him to come home at Christmas. He'd been hinting around that we'd maybe get engaged then, and I couldn't wait.
And then... one hot July night I stopped over Billy's house to take him some dinner. Shanda had gone to Florida for the week to see her parents, and Mom wanted to be sure Billy ate right, since he'd probably subsist off of chips if no one was there to cook for him. I walked in the house -- I had a key -- and there was Billy, lying on the couch wearing a tee shirt and boxers. I put down the casserole Mom had sent, and walked over to him -- he looked like he was asleep. The air conditioning made the room artic, so I decided to cover him up. Just as I was reaching for the afghan -- his hand shot up and grabbed my arm. He pulled me down on top of him, and before I knew it, we were on the floor, with him on top of me, groping at me, pulling my sundress up. "Billy -- what are you doing," I shouted! "Stop it!" In response, he slapped me across the face, hard. It stunned me long enough for him to rip off my panties. "I'm gonna fuck you Laura" he said, his voice thick and urgent. I stared up in his face with shock -- he looked like a stranger. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy, and despite the chilly air in the room, his face was beaded with sweat. "No -- no! I'm your sister -- you can't do this," I cried! He just laughed, and fell on top of me, kissing my face, licking and sucking at my neck. My futile struggles just inflamed his lust more. "I've got to fuck you Laura," he gasped, as he pulled down his shorts. His manhood sprang out at me, huge, swollen, and hard as a rock. "I've wanted to fuck you for years -- and I know you want it too!" With that, he fell on top of me, and pried my legs open. I screamed, and tried to push him away, but it was no use -- he was much too strong for me. Before I knew it he was between my legs, and with one thrust, tore deep inside of me. I screamed with pain, and he moaned with pleasure as he realized he had taken my virginity. He began to thrust up and down inside me, over and over again, moaning with pleasure as he raped me. "Oh Laura... man, you're so tight... oh god" he called out as he pumped away furiously at me. I could only lay there and sob as my own brother raped me, feeling awash with shame as his powerful thrusts pushed us across the floor. I looked up at him once, and his face was smeary with bliss as he raped his only sister. "mmmm, good..." he moaned as he licked and sucked at my face. It seemed to go on forever. I closed my eyes, but I could feel his body shudder, I could still hear his grunts of pleasure, and winced when he called my name out in ecstasy. "Oh Laura -- you feel so good! Oh yeah... oh yeah... oh baby" he called. Finally, his movements grew more frantic, and with a final shuddering thrust, he came deep inside me, and collapsed on top of me. He laid there for what seemed like hours, trapping me beneath him. When he finally let me up, I ran straight out the door, went home, locked myself in the bathroom, and sobbed in the shower for hours.
I didn't report it. How could I? How could I tell the world that my own brother had raped me? It would destroy my family -- my dad had a bad heart and telling him that his daughter had been raped by her own brother could kill him! No -- I didn't tell. I kept silent, avoided Billy at all costs whenever I could.
The few times I was forced to be around him, he acted like nothing was amiss, and I did too. It seemed best that way, to forget, pretend it never happened. I couldn't cope with it any other way. And then -- three months later, as I sat on the examining table at my family doctors, and heard him say "Laura, you're pregnant," I realized the nightmare would never be over. I was pregnant with Billy's child, my own brother had made me pregnant.
There was no forgetting it now. Abortion was against my religion -- I would have to give birth to my brother's child, and my life was over. I told my parents first. Of course they wanted to know who the father was -- since it couldn't have been Jeff. I made up a lame story about getting drunk at a party -- and that I didn't know who my baby's father was. They were devestated. We're a conventional Catholic family, and even in this day and age, an unmarried, pregnant daughter was something to be ashamed of. I never even got the chance to tell Jeff. Somehow, his sister heard about my pregnancy and told him before I could. He sent me a letter, calling me a whore and a slut, and broke up with me.
I will never forget the look on Billy's face when I told him that I was pregnant with his child. He was delighted. "What's wrong with you!" I cried. "I'm your sister! You raped me and now I'm pregnant with your baby! Aren't you ashamed!" He shrugged, and said "Why do you think I raped you? I wanted to make you pregnant. Shanda can't ever give me children, and if I divorced her, I'd lose everything. She wanted to adopt, but I want a child of my own blood. So, I raped you, got you pregnant, and once my child is born, Shanda and I will adopt it. This way, I know it's mine". I could only stare at him, aghast. It had all been planned! And now, I was pregnant by Billy, and had no choice but to give birth to his baby. I laughed in his face and told him that unless he wnted to identify himself as the father of my baby, there was nothing he could do to keep me from giving it to strangers. That took the smug look off his face -- he apparently hadn't thought of that.
The months passed with agonizing slowness. As my belly swelled bigger and bigger with my brother's child, I grew more and more depressed. I spent all of my time alone with my shame, at home. My family was ashamed of me and my pregnancy. all of my friends had deserted me, and I knew the whole town was talking about me. I guess that's why I got attached to the baby. There was no one else to talk to, and it wasn't the baby's fault that I had been raped by my brother. I'd lay awake at night and caress my bulging belly, wanting so much to keep my baby, but knowing I couldn't. I was so young, only 21, and I had no way to support myself, let alone a baby. My parents had made it clear that my only choice was adoption -- they wouldn't support me and my baby. And I couldn't stand the thought of handing my child over to strangers, never to see it again.
And so... when I was eight months pregnant, I asked Mom to have Billy and Shanda over to the house. I hadn't seen much of either of them, and the few times I had seen Billy I ignored him. The whole family gathered around the table, and I sobbed as I said I wanted Billy and Shanda to adopt my baby. It was the only way. As much as I hated Billy for raping me and forcing me to have his baby, he was still the child's father. This way, our baby would be with one of his parents. And I could see him grow up. Shanda started crying and thanking me over and over again. If she only knew what a monster she had married!
Nine months after Billy raped me I gave birth to our son. Both Billy and Shanda were there with me, and the nurse gave our son to Billy first. I never hated him more than at that minute, watching him hold our baby. He had gotten what he wanted, a child of his own, but at my expense. I barely saw my son at all after the birth -- Shanda had him almost every moment. And once I signed the adoption papers, I left town, courtesy of Shanda's family, who paid for two years at the Sorbonne for me. It was better that way, everyone said. The baby - who of course was named after Billy -- would be able to bond with his new parents this way, and it would be easier on me. It wasn't, it was so hard.
In the two years that I was gone, I only saw one picture of my son, taken when he was just a week old. No one mentioned him in the letters and phone calls. I didn't see my son till he was two years old. It took my breath away when I did see him -- he looked exactly like his father. Which of course, everyone chalks up to his being the boy's uncle.
Well, eventually I moved away, and married a good man. Ted doesn't know about my son, it's the family secret. Little Billy doesn't know that he was adopted, and they plan on never telling him that his aunt is actually his mother. Ted and I see the family once a year, and it's hard. I found out just this last week that I can't have any more children myself. Ted says it doesn't matter, but I am left knowing that I can never claim my son.