The Life of Amy Woods
Posted by Unknown | Posted in Tales | Posted on Friday, October 14, 2011
Amy was born in a poor household. It was her parents’ never-ending love that
carried her through the harsh times. Her father was a mechanic and her mother
made some extra cash from the household work she did for some wealthier families
in town. Things had always been bad for the family and only got worse as Amy
grew up. When she was 14 her mother fell ill, which only worsened their
financial situation. Her father was a weak man at heart and all this was too
much for him, he died of a heart attack when Amy was 15. She was left all alone
with her mother who took a turn for the worse when Amy’s father passed away and
died when Amy was 16.
To fully understand the story, first read: The Life of Charlie Red
Reader discretion is advised; Mature. Violent. Graphic.
Amy was homeschooled ever since she was a child. She was
totally unaware of the ways of the world. Her whole life was spent in that
house, she hardly ever stepped out, and the town was not exactly known for its
pious people. The only knowledge she had was her mother’s wisdom passed onto
her. And before her mother died she advised her daughter to protect herself
from harmful people and their fouls. But she also mentioned a mysterious box, a
wooden box that had been carried down generations of her mothers. She told Amy
that the box was sacred and had protected her family all these years and now it
must protect Amy. Her mother explained that the box was magical and should only
be opened in very severe times. She warned Amy that the box had a one-time
power and should only be a last resort, when the times are the worst, when
she’s absolutely sure things can’t get any worse.
Amy wasn’t quite sure whether
these were the words of her mother or a dying woman but chose to respect her
mother’s last words. She took the key, which her mother wore around her neck as
a necklace and put it on. She looked at the tall cupboard by her mother’s bed
and on top of it she could spot a worn out wooden box. She kept staring at it,
curious as to whether there was anything really magical about it?
Time went by and Amy started with her own life, she started
working as a waitress at a local pub. She made good for herself, but the job
was tough, all those perverted men staring at her young body, knowing she is
vulnerable and all alone in this world. She was disgusted by those horrible
faces, those sick eyes fixed on her body. But nothing she could do about it,
she couldn’t leave the job, she had to survive and things weren’t any better in
other parts of town. The men in this town were known for beating their wives
and treating women like a disposable treat.
After a few weeks she had adjusted into the environment but
she could never get used to the idea of men looking at her in every sick angle
possible. She’d endure all those perverts; gulp down all the feelings of
disgust, until… one dark night… when she was alone, working late. Three wealthy
old men entered the pub. They sat down for a round of drinks… Time went by as
they kept drinking and drinking, all the while eyeballing Amy. She felt
insecure as they got more and more drunk. As the clock struck midnight, she
approached the table to announce that it was closing time. The men did not take
the news nicely and perhaps was just the spark they were looking for. One of
the men grabbed her, as the others joined in. That dark night Amy lost her
self-respect, her self-esteem, her innocence. She was raped multiple times,
beaten and thrown around like a toy.
She got home trembling and cried all night. She had lost all
purpose to live. She missed her mother more than ever and that’s when she
remembered about the wooden box… She decided no matter how stupid it sounds
she will give it a try. But then her mother’s words echoed in her ears, that
she should only resort to the box when things were the worst. And no matter how
she felt at that moment, she knew things could still be worse. And right she
was! The next morning she woke up in pain and decided to quit her job, she had
saved enough to last her for a while until she could figure out what to do
next.
She spent the day indoors and was too afraid to go out. She was in shock;
the complete effect of the last night’s incident hadn’t yet sunk in upon her.
As night approached she curled up in the corner of her room full of fear. And
to her worst fears, the door swung open as three men marched in. The same old
creeps from the bar. The sick bastards hadn’t had enough. The drooling hounds
were back for more. Her quitting the job wasn’t enough, they approached her
totally drunk and raped her again multiple times in her house. Several times on
the bed her mother died on.
After hours of torture they left her in a state of
unconsciousness. She regained consciousness in the middle of the night and
cried a river. What else could the poor girl do? She couldn’t tell anyone,
nobody would take it up against those wealthy men and it would only hurt her
reputation and her family name...
She couldn’t sleep all night, was it the pain, the remorse,
the fear... She didn’t know anymore. As evening approached, she lay there on
the bed covered with bruises and blood, totally helpless and thoughtless… she
spotted the box in the corner of her eye. She managed to move and with all her
power got on her feet and lifted the box, carried it down and placed it on the
floor. She reached for the key and unlocked the box and slowly lifted the lid
and came into view a red ball. She was confused… Her thoughts were interrupted
by a loud bang. The door swung open as the box dropped from her hands... She
turned around and saw three men enter. They were back for more. That night she
was raped again until she died…
On their way out, one of the old men picked up the red ball
and decided to keep it as a souvenir of his perverted adventures.
Feedback & suggestions to sarmed@lostinperdition.com
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