Hello again readers. I've been quite busy, but I've spent my little free time typing up stories. I've noticed that some of the stories in the site are about sex, sex, sex, and, oh, more sex. I know most people here seek these kinds of stories, but there are people like me who thinks everything is not necessarily about sex. Sure, I realized that this is a Lesbian Sex section, but I love stories that don't resolve around and focus in sex a lot. So, I came up with this story.
So, if you're looking for a quickie or a lot of sex scenes, then this story is not for you. This focuses more on the emotions and conflicts within the main character . I do hope you like it and I'm thinking of making more chapters afterwards. Tell me what you think J
-YoursTruly101
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Love.
It's funny how one word can change your whole life around and can change a person. It can both break you and complete you. Sometimes at the same time.
I punched the heavy punching bag harder and harder, beads of sweat running down my face. Panting, I did a round-kick, a jab, and a hook.
You see, I'm not an emotional person; most people call me cold hearted or 'too rational' for their liking. I don't really care, it's just who I am. But I am not entirely robotic. I do have feelings, but do not act upon for the fear of being rejected. I don't do rejection. Then again, it feels like rejection, hatred, and sadness is the only emotions I feel.
Faster, I thought, faster, harder. I kneed the bag twice and did a flying back fist. To each punch, I hissed through my teeth. Faster.
It has been two years since the murder of my family. A murder I have seen through my eyes. First, he slashed my father's throat, butchered my younger sister, and raped my mother while I quietly stared through an open crack of a closet door. A Red gang member.
The bastard.
I remember silently sobbing in the close spaced closet, putting my hands over my mouth.
"Hide in here," my sobbing mother had said minutes before," and whatever you do, do not make a sound."
She closed the closet with me inside.
"Mom, wha-"
"Cara!" my father had shouted from another room," I called the cops, but I doubt it if they can make it in time, especially in this type of neighborhood."
Faster, I thought, punch faster. I panted.
"Jesus!" my mom had said, panicked," Where's Alison, Pam?"
"I don-" I had replied.
I heard the front door crashing down, my mother screeching. I opened the closet door very slowly; I can see through a small crack. Alison came running into my mom's room, my mother hugging her closely.
A second later, my father and a tall man were fighting, punching at each other. Then, a shining object was at the hand of the man and with that he slashed my father's throat. My father, who I admired and love, came stumbling down. Blood, I never saw a lot of blood before in my entire life.
Kick faster, I thought, kick harder.
Then, the man laughed, pointing the knife to my younger sister Alison. He called over his other gang members to come inside.
My mother hugged Alison closely, sobbing. He grabbed Alison by force. Even though my mother fought back for her daughter, she wasn't physically stronger than the man.
Faster.
He cut Alison repeatedly. Again, again, and again.
"Harder," I hissed through my teeth.
My mother, crying, shaking, crawled to a corner close to the closet. The man walked over, throwing the lifeless Alison out of the way. He walked to my mother, unzipped his pants and my mother's pants. Then...
"Come on..." I hissed as I did a double hook on the bag.
I heard cheerful shouting and encouraging remarks from the other members.The police came ten minutes after...
"Come on..." I grunted as I elbowed the lifeless bag.
A police officer found me in the closet, and gently helped me out. Three bloody body bags were being taken away.
