Author's Note:
First off, this is not really a sexual story, but is posted in Loving Wives because the story it's based on started here.
This is a spin-off from my Castaway series. Here is the general timeline of stories. This story might not make a lot of sense if you don't read the series. All stores after Castaway 1-5 aren't required, but I suggest reading them all before this one.
-Castaway pt. 1-5
-Beach Bum
-Survival
-Perceptions
The two "People Watcher" stories are a complete off-shoot, but it's the same cast of characters listening to Tanya tell some stories.
(Notes about THIS story) I have always wanted to go back and tell Caitlin's story. I mean, why would anyone do what she'd done to her husband? How can anyone explain her actions to any satisfaction? Aside from the Martian Slut Ray (someone's probably got a patent or trademark pending for that one by now), what could cause a normal woman to go off the deep end like she did? Maybe she wasn't so normal after all...
This is also an experiment of sorts for me. The story is mostly told through dialog, between Caitlin and her counselor. I fully expect that this may not go over well. I'm not doing this story for a score, but to wrap up some very unanswered questions I think we all had (including me). As an author, sometimes the story flows as I type it, and at the end of this Castaway I never asked myself why would she do it in the first place? I hope Caitlin has filled in some holes for us all...
I need to give special thanks to my editors, Guinahart and SBrooks103x, who always find time to read through my garbage and attempt to clean it up. I especially appreciate when I'm told that what I've written makes no sense (because it's true). I have a terrible time telling myself that sometimes, so thank you!
Disclaimers:
It's probably too long. I probably don't know how to spell very well. Somewhere, a story like this one has likely already been told. If for some reason you make it to the end and still don't like it, I will gladly give you a refund.
***************
Ghosts of the Past
"Good afternoon, Caitlin. How has your week been going?"
I sat down on her comfortable couch, smiling at my Counselor, Elizabeth Conner. My nervous smile prefaced my answer. "I'm good, Elizabeth, thanks for asking. I've been trying to do my homework just like we talked about last week."
She returned my smile. "Good, that will give us a good starting point. I've told you that in order to understand your own life better, we needed to get it out in the open. You still have a lot that I think you haven't told anyone. Why don't we start with what you've added to the journal?"
"Well, the last entry we discussed was my first boyfriend and how he seemed like a nice guy, at least until the night he raped me."
"It's good that you can finally admit that. That was a big step for you. The sex you had with that young man was not consensual. You didn't give him permission, nor did you ask for it. You did nothing wrong, other than not reporting it. Sadly, that's all too common. Most rapes are never even reported, let alone investigated."
I nodded as she spoke, so glad to have someone to confide in. Sadly, I should have trusted James enough to tell him the true shit-show my life had been before meeting him. I had shed all the tears I could over losing him, but it had been entirely my fault. It had been preventable, had I just trusted him. Trust. That was something that I didn't do easily though.
"So, after he dumped me, I felt like total trash. I was a slut. I'd had sex. I was a virgin before that night, and afterwards I felt like a tramp. I mean, how could I feel any different? I could never confide in my mother, who basically just agreed with whatever my Dad said. Telling her about it was out of the question. He would have found out and whipped my ass for it."
"Did he do that a lot? Punish by spanking or hitting you?"
"Yeah, he did. When I was very young, it was normal to get a beating for doing something wrong. If I broke a glass or something, it always meant a sore behind. As I got older, it changed. He changed," I said, shivering at the memories of my father's cruelty.
"Anyhow, after that incident, I didn't really talk to any guys. I barely spoke to my male teachers, and my dad was only marginally better. Staff Sergeant Harry Smith had never truly left him, nor had his time in Vietnam. They say, once a Marine always a Marine. I believe that. He was a decorated war hero, but I think he was missing a part of himself after all of it. He never really talked about it much."
I shook my head, definitely way off topic. "Since last week, I added some more about him. About what he did to me..."
Silence hung in the air for a second before Elizabeth helped by smiling at me, reassuring me that this was a safe place to talk about this.
"Yes. My own father. How could he? I've pretended to love him since that last year of high school, but that was the year he became a monster. I never told James about
him.
I don't know why, maybe I was too ashamed?"
"Caitlin, I will keep reminding you of this. You did nothing wrong. Did you ask for what he did to you?" she asked gently.
"No, I didn't. I begged him to stop, actually. He ignored me."
"Did you ever tell your mother?"
"I was too ashamed, and I was certain she'd never believe me. I never told anyone, not even James."
She looked at me, smiled and gave me a nod. "You are starting to understand things better, I think. We still sound like we have a lot to discuss, but you are starting to understand that keeping a large part of your painful history from him was just another sign of your lack of trust."
"I know. After so many good years, I still had never truly learned to trust him. I didn't see it back then. My marriage was as close to perfect as it gets, and I still couldn't trust him."
I sniffled, grabbed a tissue and cleared my eyes. "My dad didn't just rape me like that guy did. No, he was far worse. He terrified me for that entire year until I was able to move out.
"I remember the first time it happened. My mom had gone to some conference for her work and he'd stayed home. The first day she was gone, he came home from work and went upstairs to shower like normal. After about a minute I heard the shower turn on, but then he yelled for me to come upstairs. He needed my help with something.
"He hadn't done anything to me before that point, aside from the painful reminders on my ass, so I went upstairs to see what he needed help with. He was in his bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist, and he smiled when I entered the room. It was odd, seeing him nearly naked like that, so naturally I looked away from him. I asked him what he needed help with, and that's when he grabbed me.
"He told me that he needed my help, that his wife was no longer doing it for him. I was confused and angry and tried to push him off me. I remember telling him that he was hurting me and to let me go."
"I still see his rage, the anger boiling just under the surface bursting as he hit me. He'd hit me in the stomach so hard that it knocked the air from my lungs." I closed my eyes, again reliving that horrible moment.
"Go on, Caitlin. It's okay," Elizabeth assured me. I blinked away the tears I thought I'd cried out already.
"Thank you. To this day I still see the anger on his face, the rage. He hit me so hard I couldn't breathe, and then he started ripping off my clothes, pushing me face down onto the bed. It was the worst thing I'd ever had happen to me, my own Dad..."
Elizabeth put her hand on mine, gently squeezing it. "It's okay, Caitlin. You're safe with me here and he can't ever do that to you again."
"Thank you," I said, blinking away the moisture gathered and running down my cheeks. I wiped my face with the tissue and soldiered on.
"After that first night, I was terrified. Each night after that, he would sneak into my room at night. He never said anything, just pulled my pajama's off and underwear down, and got on top of me. I lay there taking it, crying. I remember telling myself that maybe I deserved it. Maybe I did something to earn this punishment he was giving me."
"That's not true, Caitlin. You
never
deserved it. That wasn't punishment for anything you did wrong. It was a sick act of violence, of control and power. A large percentage of rapes are due to some form of control issues. How were things at home during that time with your mom?"
"Hah, my mom. The only good thing she did for me at the time was take me to the doctor's to get on birth control. I learned to pretend everything was fine and completely ignored her. I tried to tell her once, about my dad. I no more than suggested he was doing something with me that I didn't want, and she yelled at me. She called me a liar and didn't talk to me for a month. When she did, it was to give me an instruction or something equally as impersonal. She never believed me, so I went along with the notion that nothing wrong was happening. Every night, I cried myself to sleep after he would leave my room."
"Do you still talk to them?"
"Occasionally, but mostly just to let them know what's going on with my daughter, Madison. I don't call my mom and spend hours on the phone with her or anything like that."
"When did the abuse stop?"
"That's easy, when I left for college. I no longer lived under the same roof, so he couldn't sneak into my bed at night anymore." I closed my eyes and again tried to put those horrible nights behind me.