Chapter One

Honey B

It was dark and freezing cold, the threatened storm was on its way, the wind gathering force by the minute. I guess deciding to walk home from the movies hadn't been such a good idea after all but it had been the early show. If not for the storm it would have still only been dusk instead of the midnight black it now became. I wasn't afraid of the dark or the storm, but something was making me feel uneasy as I made my way between the trees at the edge of the park. I was almost home, a few more minutes and I would be walking down the brightly lit street to the house where I had lived with my mom and grandfather since I was born. As for my dad, well I didn't know who he was, they never talked about him. Not that I hadn't asked I had, but I never got an answer. As I got older I could see it upset them both and stopped asking although I would never stop wondering and I promised myself that one day when it couldn't hurt them anymore I would track him down.

What happened next was my own fault, I should have stopped daydreaming and started concentrating on my surroundings, but you know what it's like, something gets in your mind and you can't help focusing on it. Anyway the next thing I knew I was sprawled face down on the ground, tripped by a branch that had fallen from one of the trees and lay across the path. Cursing at the mud on my hands and clothes I pushed myself to my knees feeling a stinging sensation on one knee and the heel of my right palm, great now I would get home bruised, scraped, and filthy. Just like when I was a kid playing out here and fell as I ran home when I heard my mom call me for dinner.

As I started to get up I found myself shoved violently in the middle of my back and went sprawling again trying to struggle against the cold wet hand that closed over my mouth to stop me from crying out or screaming for help.

"No one will hear you so there's no point in screaming. I've been watching you for a long time Honey B. You are so beautiful, so exciting, this is going to be fun."

As I felt his hands on my clothes I struggled, stunned by the use of the name my mom always used when talking to me, but he was too strong for me so all I could do was stare at him so when the lightning flashed I would see his face and remember it.

Time passed, I have no idea how long, I had tried to retreat mentally from the brutality of my assailant, but I couldn't, not really. How can you hide from what is happening to you? I wish I knew so I wouldn't be forced to remember every sickening act, the feel of his cold wet hands on my skin, the scent of his breath as he kissed me roughly, every moment of the attack which went on for so long I lost all sense of time.

When he finally dragged me to my feet I wanted to die, to curl up in a ball and just go to sleep and stay there forever. Without another word he turned and vanished into the darkness, I saw his back illuminated by a streak of lightning, his hair slicked down by the now torrential downpour and then he turned back and another flash lit up his face which became etched into my memory, pale skin, and a terrible smile. Rain hammered against my naked skin, my hair dripped with muddy water, my clothes filthy, torn, and soaked hung like rags. I stood shaking, looking after him, sure he would turn around and come back, decide he wasn't finished with me after all, but the lane between the trees was now devoid of life.

Pulling the tattered remnants of my clothes around me I turned towards home but vomit filled my throat and I sagged over bringing up everything I had eaten that day. As I stood there I noticed I had only one shoe on and started scrabbling around in the dark looking for the other one before it occurred to me that I was being stupid. What did a lost shoe matter after all that had happened to me? Somehow though it seemed important and though I was cold and soaked through, covered in mud and leaves I continued my search until another flash of lightning enabled me to locate it half hidden among the shrubbery at the side of the path close to the place where I had tripped the first time.

I held it to me like a talisman and began to run, suddenly terrified once more. I was sure I could hear him coming back, coming to hurt me again or worse still, kill me. I increased my speed until I was running faster than I ever had, my wet hair whipping in my face and stinging my cheeks, the raindrops like a faucet cascading down my body washing away the mud and blood. I dare not look behind me for fear I would see him gaining on me and as the thunder crashed so loudly it hurt my ears I finally reached our front porch.

Tripping again I scrambled up them to hammer on the front door, screaming for my mom. When it finally opened I fell inside shouting at her to lock it, to keep the monster out and taking one look at me she did as I said but I sensed more than horror at seeing me like this and when my grandfather joined her in the hall they shared a look that frightened me more than the attack had.

Putting her arm around me, she led me straight into the bathroom where Grandfather had already set the bath running.

"I'll get her a hot drink."

Again they exchanged a glance before he went out closing the door very softly. She helped me strip off my ruined clothes and indicated that I should climb in among the bubbles.

"But what about the police? Shouldn't we call them?"

She shook her head, tears in her eyes,

"The police can do nothing darling, now let's get you warm and clean the mud off."

The water was dirty with a scum around the edge when she finally allowed me to climb out holding a huge fluffy towel open to wrap me in. I pulled it close hugging myself and tears began to fall once more when it dawned on me that they hadn't even asked me what had happened or if I knew who had done this.

"Why didn't you ask me what happened and why would you say that the police couldn't help? You're not supposed to bath after an attack until you've been examined and I know you won't let me go to the doctors normally, but this is different. You and Grandfather know something don't you?"

She didn't speak, just led me into the bedroom and tucked me into bed where grandfather found us a few minutes later with a mug of hot chocolate but the very smell made me feel sick and I pushed it away. I was angry and hurting, scared and I wanted someone to tell me what was going on. I was sore and ached everywhere yet they were acting like it was nothing which frightened me even more.

Grandfather sat down on one side of my bed and mom on the other and she took my hands in hers and began to tell me a story, my story and by the time she finished I felt worse than before. How could they have kept this from me when it concerned my very existence, who I really was? My whole life had just been turned upside down and I had no idea what to do or say and what to believe anymore.