Lies

Story contains mature content. Rape, Suicide and Alchohol.

Erin did not know what brought her to his house once again, but sure enough, she was there. Cold and soaked in her own tears and blood she knocked on his cherry oak door. A light flickered on in the middle of the dead house and soon the door opened revealing a man of about twenty-one with short dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing flannel pants with a white tank top on. He gazed down at the girl standing and his door step.

"Good god, it's past midnight Erin. What the hell are you doing here?"

She looked up at them with bright blue eyes but felt she couldn't speak. This man intimitated her, but she tried not to let it show.

"Michael... I..."

She stumbled and fell upon her knees on his doorstep. Michael sighed heavily but picked up the broken girl that seemed dumped on his porch. She left a puddle of blood where she had been sitting; Michael didn't notice nor care. The door on Elsie Lane shut with a loud bang. None of the surrounding houses seemed to notice.

He brought Erin into his bathroom and set her in his bathtub. He took off her black jacket and found that her shirt was also covered in blood. He sighed again and took off her shirt. Erin felt paralyzed but could not stop him...

A sigh of relief escaped from her lips when Michael turned and rumaged through one of the white counters in the small room. He grabbed Erin's wrist and wound white tape around both of them to stop the bleeding. He took a damp washcloth and rubbed the bleeding cuts on her chest. Erin didn't say anything.

He proceeded to take of her torn jeans and pink panties. Erin's eyes looked pleadingly at him but he did not see her. Michael than unclasped the dainty pink bra that was concealing even more scratches. He sighed, but started to run some bath water.

Erin was surprised at how gentle he was being with her tonight. The water rushed in hot, burning her feet. She wimpered in pain; but Michael just glared at her. The water stung at her cuts, worse than the action in of itself.

"I'll be waiting for you after you finish your bath," Michael said leaving the bathroom and closing the door.

Erin started to cry again. Why had she come back to him? He took care of her, that's why. He was the only one who wanted her. Her mother never wanted her and she didn't know her father, nor did she want to. Her mother had been raped when she was eighteen and gotten pregnant with Erin.

She looked at the water surrounding her... it had turned a liquified shade of red. She took one her nails and shoved it in one of the cuts, pulling the cut up and down... extending the injury. Pain was the only thing that could comfort her.

And Michael.

She looked to her left and noticed that Michael had taken her clothes with him. A single white towel was present on the countertop. It was embroidered with purple stitching that said: HERS.

She got up and wrapped the towel around her, feeling comfort in the snugness of it. She took a deep breath and opened the door. Michael wasn't in the hallway. For a moment... she thought she might be able to escape... but Michael was the only one who loved her... why would she want to?

She turned around a corner and saw Michael sitting on a couch. He wasn't wearing his pajamas anymore. He wasn't wearing anything. Michael saw the look in her eyes but proceeded to ignore it.

"Michael... please... I hurt so badly... I don't want to..."

He stood up and came over to her. He towered at least a foot over her.

"I bandaged and bathed you, Erin. Now it's time for you to do something for me..."

She didn't even try to stop him.

The next thing she knew, he was on top of her raping her. She didn't struggle... she didn't cry. She hated him for doing this to her, she hated him... but most of all she hated herself... because sometimes... she enjoyed it.

Michael surrendered her clothes over to her when he felt he had done enough. Erin quickly put them on and scampered out the door to her own house.

She snuck in through her window to her room. She immediatly felt sick to her stomach and threw up outside her window. She threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then she threw up bile.

Her mother never seemed to notice there was something wrong with her. No one did. Except Michael... and he loved her anyways for it. She found herself crying once uncontrollably again. She reached for a bottle of vodka under her bed and took some swigs... though not enough to get her drunk. On the contrary.. it made her more aware of what she had to do.

She couldn't take this pain anymore; she decided to do something to make him stop hurting her... she punched her window; shards of glass went flying everywhere. She went outside her window again, and collected a few shards of glass along with a garden hose and started running in the direction of his house...

Michael awoke to a bright and beautiful day outside. He had forgotten the incident in the middle of the night and wondered why he wasn't wearing any clothes. He gingerly put on his dark blue robe and slippers and walked outside to get the Sunday newspaper. He bent down and picked it up. It wasn't until he was halfway up he noticed Erin.

She was hanging by her neck with shards of glass in her wrists.

Michael felt faint but called an emergency number as soon as he could.

A few weeks later he had got a call from the local police station. During her autopsy, they had found traces of male semen.. They had compared them to Michael's DNA which had been taken a few years ago when he had raped another young girl. The DNA... was similiar.

Erin was Michael's sister.

She was sixteen.

Michael started to feel sick. He sat down on his couch thinking over what he had just learned. He went into his bathroom.

He was found two days later by the police in a bathtub of blood. He slit his wrists.

THE END

July 14, 2005