Years later I received in the mail a manuscript. It contained the missing parts of Dolores’ life since the last time I spoke to her on the phone that worrying night.
I quickly read through the pages of her diary, hoping to learn in the shortest time possible about her past life where she has been, why she kept silent for so long, and her motives behind it. Also, I needed to know what happened to her mother.
I was so intent on reading that I forgot about time. It was only in the evening when I had to switch on the light on my desk that I realized that I had been reading since ten-thirty that morning, forgetting to stop for a drink or food. I was completely absorbed in the manuscript. So far, I had read only one of the two thick folders I had received. I suspected I would be up all night reading the rest.
I would not be in peace until I got to the very end of it. Only then would I concede the luxury of a decent meal before going to bed to rest.
* * *
From Dolores memoirs.
‘… till that night, my life had good memories. I was sure everyone loved me and I was quite a happy girl. Jack, had been in our life for some time now and he had been better than a father to me, full of attention and affection.
I remember with pleasure those wonderful weekends we had spent away in the countryside or in that village we used to go, overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Mum normally took a book with her and read it while Father and I played. He really knew how to please me. It was with him that I started to love the water, and since those early days water took an important part in molding our lives together. It had rather been the running waters of rivers, the salty crested waves of the sea, or the modest water used to fill the bathtub in the evenings. Being in the water with Father had always been fun. At the seaside he enjoyed taking me into the deep water and there, to hear me giggle, he let me go. I screamed, but I didn’t panic. It was all part of our play. I felt secure when we bathed in the deep-sea water, and I was still unable to swim, in the way he held me in his strong hands with his secure grip.
Since those early days, he also started to bathe me in the evenings, while Mom prepared dinner.
I remember the water in the bathtub was warm and relaxing and I loved the way his large hands lathered my body, moving in circular motions, with long gentle strokes. He purposely, now and then, tickled me to hear me giggle. Complacently I asked for more and he used, at the same time, to tell me silly little stories that kids love.
We played happily with the water, which splashed everywhere, and often he was completely wet by the time my bath was over, but he never complained. Then one evening, about two years later, and I was a more grown-up girl, he said, “it would be better if we share the bathtub, in that way, I wouldn’t worry about getting wet.”
He then rapidly undressed and got into the bathtub. I had seen his nakedness before, usually at night time, when I would go to my parent’s bedroom for my goodnight kiss. Mom and he liked to be in that way in the privacy of their room. So, seeing him nude didn’t really disturb me. He had introduced us to that sort of freedom of our bodies, since the first days he’d moved into our lives, saying to us that he was a naturist, even though at that time I didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
Our sessions in the bathtub, since that day, became more exciting and longer. He enjoyed playing with my young body, requesting me to do the same with his.
I was too young at that time to understand the chemistry of physical arousal that he was getting by touching me. I only thought it was a normal fatherly way to play with his young daughter, a natural effusion of love and affection. On those occasions, I found that many times he twined my legs around his manhood and he squeezed them tightly and I could feel his flesh enlarging enormously.
Other times, while he lathered the bottom part of my body, he inserted one of his fingers into me with the pretense to cleanse that part properly. But at that time, I didn’t know many things. Anyway, it never occurred to me that a father would ever hurt his own daughter. Later I understood better the recessed meaning of that play, I felt disturbed by the way he used my innocence to satisfy his sexual dreams.
Still, those memories make me ashamed of such an awful reality. What an innocent girl I was at that time.
Finally, I went back to remember the night that changed my entire life. I realize and understand now that many things that had happened in those days weren’t really accidental. Jack, in his twisted mind, proceeded methodically in the way to seduce me but made it appear as an innocent part of a child’s game.
With the pretense he couldn’t sleep he started to come to my bedroom at night. He came naked and in no time, he was in my bed, embracing me. That was the time he started to play with my body in a different way than the fatherly one. I found that approach was a stimulating sensation and I can’t deny that I enjoyed what he was doing to me.
He said it was necessary to prepare me to become a woman capable to open up and be ready for the time a man would make love to me.
“If I have to be the one, I’m much too big for you. It would take time before you can be ready to take a man into you.” He kept repeating on those occasions.
I remember on those nights he was in bed with me it was a strange sensation, feeling our nakedness rubbing together. On those occasions, I felt the tension in him with his large member throbbing against my nudity, but God, it was so exciting and new to me.
Was I in love with him? Most likely it was only curiosity. I was a young teenager exploring the first steps of the lustful needs of my body. I was aware of the emotion created in having a man behind caressing my buttocks with his erect manhood.
I had two different feelings for the man who I still called Father. It was love, above the level for a daughter and degenerating into the desire for him as a lover. And there was also hate. Yes, there was hatred in me because he, in my mind, was still playing in the same way he used to a couple of years earlier, when I was an innocent child. I felt I had grown up since then. I wanted him to understand the fact that he had created, much before time, an adult in me. I wanted him to make me a woman now instead of keeping me in that sort of limbo. At that time those were unspoken instincts. I was completely unaware of the transformation taking place.
At the time I also hated him, seeing in him Mum’s molester, compelling my poor mother to be his sex slave ready to accept his maniacal demands.
I told to myself, ‘I must go into the bedroom and stop him. I have to protect Mum, so she can rest, and her babies will not be harmed by him.’
At the same time, in the back of my mind, existed the other voice telling, ordering me,
‘Go in. Tell him to have you instead of your mother. Tell him that the time is right to make you a woman. Tell him to stop all the nonsense. Tell him you are no longer a child.’
I realize it now. But at that time, in my child’s dreams, I aspired to be the heroine capable of protecting my mother to show her my love. Yes, I wanted her safe and protected. I have always loved her, sincerely and tenderly, and cared so much for her welfare.
But hearing the noises of their lovemaking behind their bedroom door, made me crazy, creating that urgency in me. It was a sexual craving in the young woman enclosed in my body. Unconsciously, I dreamed of taking her place. I wanted it to happen. I wanted Jack to stay away from Mother and I was ready to offer him my body while my mother would rest and be free of those hassles till after the twins were born. I wanted that and I was ready to give myself to him to satisfy his needs.
When I opened their bedroom door, I saw him penetrating Mum from behind with his big member. Mother was exhausted, breathing hard and submissively begging him to let her go.
I was tense and panicking. I knew what would happen. My heart beat faster. It was too much for me to see him pounding with such force over my exhausted mother.
At the same time, my crotch was soft and wet. I couldn’t wait any longer and I cried,
‘Take me now, Jack!’
Was that really my voice? I remember how scared I was for my impudence. I was alarmed for what I had said, and because Mom had heard me. What would she think of me? I was scared that Jack would really perpetrate my wishes and take me there, in front of Mum.
Jack didn’t say a word, he kept going pounding over my mother with gusto.
He wanted me, in his depraved twisted mind, to enjoy what I was seeing and to become his next sex slave.
Then he came out from Mom, showing his full arrogance with such a large erection. He took me and tore away my nightdress. Then he set me on his lap saying, ‘You need to be punished for your impudence.’
And merciless he started to spank my buttocks, till I was red and tender. I felt the pain of the beating but at the same time, it inundated me with desires.
‘Well, I have to service two sluts tonight. Both at the end will be contented and both will know what the wish of the master is.’
Jack threw me over the bed. His manhood was much too large for my virginity when he painfully entered me. Mother was terrified, and at that sight was crying loudly, but Jack had a triumphal roaring echoing from his throat. He had lost his human looks while savagely and without mercy he ripped my body apart. My cries were loud and in unison with my mother’s. The pain was unbearable. I lost consciousness of what was happening. While I was fainting, I heard Jack’s voice telling Mother, ‘It’s your turn now!’
When I woke from my stupor, I was in a pool of blood. My mother was crying and kept saying, ‘I will never forgive you. Why have you done this to me? Are you trying to take away my man? He is only mine. I’ll never forgive you.’
It was mid-morning by the time Jack came back. I was in a mess and finally, he felt compassion for my miserable condition, ‘Get dressed. I’ll take you to the hospital.’ He ordered.
The doctor that attended me said that I had been through a brutal raping that tore my vagina apart and needed an operation to reconstruct that delicate part of my body otherwise I’d have difficulties for the rest of my life.’
When asked, by the doctor, Jack said that we didn’t know who did it. I was raped on my way home.
* * *
End Part 1