|
This Child
Short
 Created on 3-25-07
 Views(93)
 Story Rating G
|
She was two years old when I met her, and I don't think I've ever seen a face more likely to haunt my nightmares. Words don't do her justice- not with eyes that flicked across my body the way hers did. Hungry eyes they were, and somehow oh-so provocative. Her tongue darted out, licked slowly along cracked lips as she stared me down. Her small hand reached toward me, and without thinking my foot raised to close the distance. In a tiny corner of her eyes came a hint of something, I imagined it was fear and my brain shocked itself back to who I was, and more importantly - to who she was. I stepped back; it was hard to remember that despite her age, this child was dangerous.
Every movement, every action, was nothing more than repetition of all she had known. Her short life was filled with nothing but sex - the sights, sounds, smells and physical sensations of sex. Her young mind couldn't comprehend it all, but it made sense of what little it could. There wasn't pain and there wasn't pleasure, there was only sex. As far as she knew, life consisted of nothing else. Perhaps if she'd known something else it might have been different, but she didn't; and it was the way it was; and that was all there was to it.
The feel of building tension in the small room brought me from my musings and I looked to the child. She stood to my right, ignoring the room around her; her gaze and thoughts focused entirely upon me. Confusion warred with everything she embodied; it was evident in those expressive blue eyes that still burned with hunger. I think if I had been someone else; if she had been anyone else; I might have given up on that little girl right then and there.
"Hello," I began, tentatively. Reaching a tramatised child was difficult at the best of times; one who'd known nothing else could be almost impossible.
"I'd like to be your friend. Would you like that?" This time my words elicited a response; albeit not one I'd been hoping for. She curved her body sensuously, cat-like, even as she nodded. I chose to ignore her movements and tried again, keeping my voice soft and calm.
"Do you like chocolate? I sure do." My smile, meant to be soothing, wavered as she moved again; as prepared as I was for an unusual reaction, I hadn't expected her to begin a strip tease.
"If we're going to be friends, I need you to leave your clothes on. Can you do that for me?" I may as well be treading water in a tank of sharks; her lip trembled and she hung her head; but at least she wasn't making an attempt to remove more items of clothing.
"I still want to be your friend." It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn her head lifted, just slightly.
"Can I help you put your shirt on again?" I had to ask a few times, but eventually a barely perceptible nod gave me permission and I slipped the simple pink t-shirt over her head, helping her find the holes for her arms.
Pulling a pencil from my pocket, I walked carefully to the small table slightly to the left of the room. Someone had left paper there and crayons, but I preferred the finer tip a pencil offered. Casually I placed my name in the top corner of the paper while I watched the little girl. She still hadn't raised her head, but she stood facing in my direction.
"Why don't you come and draw with me?" She hesitated and I tried again. "There are lots of colours here. Show me your favourite?" Two tiny steps and a pause. She raised her head slightly and waited. I remained silent; my fingers crossed and a breath caught in my throat as though to let it out would change her next move.
A few more steps and she stood across from me, her eyes intent on the paper. I pulled a second piece out and slid it towards her. I watched her out of the corner of my eye even as I traced a basic outline on the page before me. She seemed fascinated as she watched my design take shape; it was nothing special since I was no artist, but I was hoping my little sketch would draw her out of her shell enough to experience the simple pleasure, and healing expression, of art.
Following my lead, eyes still on my drawing, she collected a crayon at random. Her fingers grasped it loosely after a few attempts and the tip of her tongue protruded slightly at the side of her mouth as she applied her crayon to the paper.
When she had finished, she looked at me and I saw what I was hoping to find; an innocent smile of enjoyment.
I had succeeded for now, but the road would be as long and hard for myself as it would be for this little girl; the inner child I had denied for so long.
Every movement, every action, was nothing more than repetition of all she had known. Her short life was filled with nothing but sex - the sights, sounds, smells and physical sensations of sex. Her young mind couldn't comprehend it all, but it made sense of what little it could. There wasn't pain and there wasn't pleasure, there was only sex. As far as she knew, life consisted of nothing else. Perhaps if she'd known something else it might have been different, but she didn't; and it was the way it was; and that was all there was to it.
The feel of building tension in the small room brought me from my musings and I looked to the child. She stood to my right, ignoring the room around her; her gaze and thoughts focused entirely upon me. Confusion warred with everything she embodied; it was evident in those expressive blue eyes that still burned with hunger. I think if I had been someone else; if she had been anyone else; I might have given up on that little girl right then and there.
"Hello," I began, tentatively. Reaching a tramatised child was difficult at the best of times; one who'd known nothing else could be almost impossible.
"I'd like to be your friend. Would you like that?" This time my words elicited a response; albeit not one I'd been hoping for. She curved her body sensuously, cat-like, even as she nodded. I chose to ignore her movements and tried again, keeping my voice soft and calm.
"Do you like chocolate? I sure do." My smile, meant to be soothing, wavered as she moved again; as prepared as I was for an unusual reaction, I hadn't expected her to begin a strip tease.
"If we're going to be friends, I need you to leave your clothes on. Can you do that for me?" I may as well be treading water in a tank of sharks; her lip trembled and she hung her head; but at least she wasn't making an attempt to remove more items of clothing.
"I still want to be your friend." It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn her head lifted, just slightly.
"Can I help you put your shirt on again?" I had to ask a few times, but eventually a barely perceptible nod gave me permission and I slipped the simple pink t-shirt over her head, helping her find the holes for her arms.
Pulling a pencil from my pocket, I walked carefully to the small table slightly to the left of the room. Someone had left paper there and crayons, but I preferred the finer tip a pencil offered. Casually I placed my name in the top corner of the paper while I watched the little girl. She still hadn't raised her head, but she stood facing in my direction.
"Why don't you come and draw with me?" She hesitated and I tried again. "There are lots of colours here. Show me your favourite?" Two tiny steps and a pause. She raised her head slightly and waited. I remained silent; my fingers crossed and a breath caught in my throat as though to let it out would change her next move.
A few more steps and she stood across from me, her eyes intent on the paper. I pulled a second piece out and slid it towards her. I watched her out of the corner of my eye even as I traced a basic outline on the page before me. She seemed fascinated as she watched my design take shape; it was nothing special since I was no artist, but I was hoping my little sketch would draw her out of her shell enough to experience the simple pleasure, and healing expression, of art.
Following my lead, eyes still on my drawing, she collected a crayon at random. Her fingers grasped it loosely after a few attempts and the tip of her tongue protruded slightly at the side of her mouth as she applied her crayon to the paper.
When she had finished, she looked at me and I saw what I was hoping to find; an innocent smile of enjoyment.
I had succeeded for now, but the road would be as long and hard for myself as it would be for this little girl; the inner child I had denied for so long.
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On March 31st 2007 LokiSeto Said : | |
|
Interesting... I did enjoy most of it but found myself at a loss of who the characters were. Only the "baby" was described but not yourself. Although I am interested in why you think this way. |
| On March 25th 2007 Naterrs Said : | |
|
2 years old? rofl. roflololol |
