October 18, 2015

These things are so fucking stupid... What do I have to write about that I should want to remember? I'm only writing because as of late, I have lost time that I can't remember. I don't know that I do.

My last diary entry was over a decade ago, when I was a stupid little girl. Sure, I wasn't unlike any other girl my age. Britney Spears was the best. People who listened to Aerosmith and Red Hot Chili Peppers were old. Pink was an amazing color, but not on redheads like myself. "Strawberry Shortcake" was an insult that I heard often, but seriously, I only heard about that from old cartoons! People had no ingenuity with those insults. Besides, my grandmother made it cool to have bright red hair. She even made me a blanket when I was a little girl to make sure I was never ashamed of my bright red hair.

However, that all changed 12 years ago. Mom, Dad, Cody (my older brother), and I were driving home from dinner. It was my Dad's birthday, and as corny as it was, it was a family tradition to go to my favorite restaurant for his birthday; we went to Chili's. I was way past the cheese quesadillas though. Chicken crispers and the cinnamon apples all the way! I was asking my brother to scoot over as his face was in my comic book in the back seat. Batgirl is the best! All of the sudden, I feel a pop and then nothing.

I woke up in the car, upside down and strapped into my seat belt. Cody was staring at me, blood dripping from the top of his head. He's not blinking...not moving...not breathing. I place my hand behind his head to try to wake him up, but I slice my hand. I unhook my seat belt and fall down, towards the roof. We were flipped. I look behind and Cody has many shards of glass embedded in the back of his body, most of it had launched into his head and neck. I screamed for my mom and dad, but they didn't breathe, they didn't move, and when I turned their heads, they didn't blink. I was alone...for the first time in my life. I felt a sharp pain in my leg and then I passed out.

I awoke the next day, to a cast on my right leg. It was broken in two places. My dad's brother, whom I had never seen in my life introduced himself to me. Uncle Mitt looked like a nice man. He seemed odd dressed in jeans, a sport coat, and loafers, with an unshaven beard, but he hugged me and said everything would be ok. Boy....understatement of the year.

The next two years, God, were the toughest two years I had ever faced before. Uncle Mitt was a jackass...a rednecked jackass, and he dressed like one, too. I had never seen so much flannel in my whole life as what that man wore. At least, until I wore it. I was taken to Goodwill three times a year and told that I had $50 to buy whatever I needed. It's good that I found a friend, Jeanette, who slipped me some of her clothes regularly so that I didn't look like a total loser. We lived like paupers, and I didn't know any better. I suppose I wouldn't leave a trust fund to a fourteen year old, either. I'd later, much later, learn that he pocketed money left for me and whoever was to take care of me. I didn't have to live that way. I hated Mitt. I started dropping the Uncle a few days before my sixteenth birthday.

My birthday, celebrated the day before with Jeanette was amazing. Her family took me shopping for everything I could have asked for. I don't know if Jeanette's family could afford what I spent, but they let me get whatever I wanted! Jeanette's mom made me walk away as she was paying. I walked out with five completely full bags of clothing, and two boxes of shoes. I was then taken for lobster with Jeanette, her mom and dad, and her grandmother. I had never had lobster before. It was exquisite. Might have been comparable to sex, to my just shy of sixteen year-old brain. If this sounds sickeningly sweet, I agree. That was my viewpoint as a 15 and 354 day year old. Life was hard, but true friends could get you through.

Mitt took me to McDonald's, a rare treat, from him anyway. I choked down a McChicken sandwich and chased it with a lot of Coke and let him think he was surprising me. He gave me a card with $5 in it and told me to spend it however I could. This was 2006, not 1956! But, I just smiled and said 'thank you,' something my parents always said when someone shows you kindness. Mitt hugged me and smelled like Old Spice and a smell that I would later recognize as old semen. I wondered if he ever knew about a shower, but then I saw something strange...a gold watch on his arm, and I got jealous. We went home and Mitt let me bring Jeanette over for a sleepover. God I wished I never met her...

Mitt had a Dairy Queen ice cream cake and a lot of fruit punch for myself and Jeanette. I had probably too much cake and almost a gallon of punch. It was so good. Jeanette was knocking the cake and punch down, as well. And then, I got really sleepy and Jeanette passed out as well. Mitt said goodbye, as he said informed me that he was heading out of town for a week. I was surprised, but thought nothing of it. I walked Jeanette into the bedroom, shut the door, and started changing into my bed clothes. I helped Jeanette into hers as she wasn't helping, I figured that Jeanette was just really tired and so was I. I laughed about everything, and come to think of it, Mitt's jokes were funny that night. I seem to remember calling him Uncle Mitt again. Strange...

I remember waking up to a heavy weight on my chest. When I went to move my arms, I couldn't. I could feel a hand next to mine and I grabbed it and it grabbed mine. It felt like what I believe Jeanette's would feel like. I felt lower on her hand and found a rope of some kind, probably the same kind holding my wrists to the bed. I then felt an overwhelming sensation in my lower abdomen and then abject pain as the weight on my chest started shaking the bed. I heard Jeanette's muffled moans and cries in unison with the bed movement. I clenched my jaw as my body started feeling on fire as well. It was only then I realized that I was gagged and blindfolded, as well. I put it together and realized that I was being raped and most likely, Jeanette, too. I had masturbated before, you know, like most girls do, a finger or two late at night, enough to make me orgasm and get wet, but nothing earth shaking. But tonight, I was being fucked, and fucked by someone who I had no idea about. I begged and whimpered into the gag as I was cumming, probably something Jeanette did, as well. That only seemed to spur on my assailant. I was glad when he stopped, because I was tired and sore, but heard the door shut, and I was still tied to Jeanette, and we were still tied to my bed. We pulled against each other and the bed for hours, but eventually I took her hand, and we just went to sleep. The next morning, strange hands untied us and walked us outside, and loaded Jeanette and I into a van, secured us to the seat, me arms tied together at the wrists and elbows and bent over the back of the seat, legs spread and tied to the sides of the seat. I felt a plastic seat cover on my ass, and squeaked as I moved. The next hours were spent with fingers and what I think was a bottle being pressed in and out of me and fingers on my tits, pinching and slapping. I moaned and begged and cried, but was slapped and told to shut up or else my mouth would be better occupied than just with a gag. I heard actual gagging sounds behind me. Jeanette must not have heeded their warnings.

The van stopped and my blindfold and gag were removed. I squinted from the sun as Jeanette and I were led to a cabin. She was still gagged, but not blindfolded. I can tell she was recently crying from what I will assume was her assault in the van. I saw saliva and dried cum on her lips and chest. When we walked in, we saw many people; I counted 25, all hooded, clapping as we entered. There were men and women there and all seemed to be looking at us as we walked past. We were tied to chairs, back to back, legs spread. For the next six nights, any time we didn't have someone raping us, we were getting ready for someone to have their next turn. On the last night, Jeanette and I had the chance to talk in the room in which we were kept, but said nothing, holding each other and crying. We were told to take a shower and clean up, washing all of the evidence we had gathered over the week down the drain.

The next morning, we were told to put on panties and a bra that were left for us. Six hooded figures came in and brought in rope and two vibrators. Jeanette and I started begging when one of them said, "Leigh, don't be an idiot like your friend." Was that....was that Mitt?!? "Mitt?" I asked. The man I was sure was Mitt walked up to me and slapped me so hard that I fell on the floor. Jeanette screamed. "No, I'm not fucking Mitt! Shut the fuck up or else you both will be found dead outside your parents' houses."

We were directed to put on two tank tops, which looked like the ones we were wearing on my birthday. After which, two assailants tied our arms at the wrists and elbows. Then two others sat us on the bed and ordered us to spread out legs. We did so and our panties were roughly pulled down and an unlubed vibrator was pushed inside before we were redressed. They were turned on as we were redressed in jeans and sneakers before being loaded into the van. When seated, our thighs were tied together, presumably to hold the vibrators inside. We were then secured much like before, but with our legs closed. The vibrators were there to do the work that the men did before.

Jeanette and I would moan occasionally as we orgasmed on the van ride home, as the vibrators were never shut off. The men were pawing at out tits under the tank top, but I assume that was boring compared to what they did to us for the entire week. After a few hours, Jeanette was tossed out of the van with a thud, I assume near her house, and we drove away. I never saw her again. I heard she is doing well and has kids. I hope her life was as normal as it could have been after all of this. Mine wasn't.