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From: Sirsemega <sirsemega@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Girl Next Door (MF)
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Date: Wed, 03 Sep 2008 06:10:03 -0400
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(c) 2008 Sirsemega
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are either the product of the author's disturbed imagination and are
used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead,
undead or mostly harmless, business establishments, events, or
locales
is entirely coincidental.
If you enjoy it, please drop me an email at sirsemega@gmail.com

Inspired from "The Girl Next Door"  a true story of a horrible
tragedy.

My thanks to FernieLyn who proofread this piece and gave me some good
opinions and insight! Thank you FernieLyn!


The moment when I saw her changed all our lives forever. It had taken
me a few days to piece together little snippets of talk that Andrew,
my son had said over the dinner table as we ate our meals before the
confused and troubled boy ran next door to continue "playing" with his
best friend Jake.

The questions a twelve year old boy asked while we ate our meals were
on subjects that no child should be asking.

 "What is a clitoris?"

 "How can pain be enjoyable?"

 "Why are all girls whores?"

Ginny, my wife's face dropped each time he asked a question. I asked
him where he heard these things and he just muttered, "Around."

After he was excused, Ginny and I spoke about the disturbing turn in
topics that our son was interested in. A few times I wondered if his
friend next door, Jake was filling his head with these things.

Jake was the same age as Andrew, and as far as we could tell, he was a
good innocent boy just like Andrew. That summer, the two of them had
been inseparable, riding their bikes together, going to the park and
fishing at the pond together, and just hanging out.

Jake's family seemed to be okay as well. Ginny was friendly with
Gertrude, Jake's  mother. I waved to Fred, his father each time I saw
him outside. Jake had an older brother named Jeff, who I suspected was
the one who was putting these thoughts into Andrew's head. However, I
wasn't sure how to address the issue, short of banning Andrew from
seeing his best friend all summer long.

Gertrude's niece was staying with them. Her name was Melanie. Her
parents had died in an accident a few months ago and Melanie came to
live with Gertrude and her family. Melanie was a small, blonde girl.
She was sixteen or seventeen and she always seemed sad. She had become
friendly with Andrew and Jake, and had avoided Jeff as far as I could
see.

As I pondered over the last meal, before Andrew had left to go over to
the house next door, I wondered what his last cryptic words to me
meant.

 "Dad, if you had a secret and knew that it was wrong, would it be
okay to break the secret, even if you got into trouble yourself?"

These words gave me pause. I kept my face straight and looked at him.
He couldn't meet my eyes.

 "I think it would be your duty to break that secret if it was wrong,"
I said.  I paused to let him talk. He was not forthcoming, so I
prodded him.

"Is there some secret you need to tell me?" I asked.

His face flushed and he shook his head. He quickly excused himself and
asked to go next door.

Ginny and I were upset. Something was wrong.

"What are we going to do?" she asked me. "We have to make him tell
us!"

I tried to think. I was in agreement with her, but I wanted Andrew to
come to us. He had become different this past week. The entire family
next door seemed to behave normally, almost like they were trying to
behave like so. They all made an effort to be seen by us doing their
regular things. Jeff had even helped to wash my car with me. Fred was
more cheerful and friendly than ever; he normally said only one word
to me before going about his business, now he was actually chatty. He
actually seemed to be feeling me out on something, some issue --

Everyone had been normal. Well except for Melanie, who I hadn't seen
in over a week.

She was always outside playing. Now I tried to remember the last time
I had seen her. All those comments Andrew made, they all related back
to an attitude towards a woman, or a girl.

"Oh god!" I suspected.

 "What?" Ginny asked.

 "Stay by the phone!" I told her as I left the house and headed over
next door. I hoped that it was just our imagination. I wondered
whether I was just jumping the gun. I knocked on the door. No answer.

I tried the door and it was unlocked. That wasn't unusual as the kids
ran in and out of there all the time.

Entering the house, I found it empty. "Hello?" I almost whispered.
"Anyone home? It's Brandon."

Nothing.

I listened up the stairs and heard nothing, no steps no activity.
Strange, both Gertrude's and Fred's cars were still there.

I walked into the kitchen and noticed a door leading to the cellar.
The house was built just like mine so I knew that the cellar was a
full sized cellar. I heard some muffled noise coming from the door and
slowly opened it.

Peering down the stairs I heard some muffled voices. I couldn't make
them out so I slowly climbed down the stairs as silently as possible.
At the bottom of the stairs I discovered that the cellar had been
divided into two rooms. The wall to the other room seemed to be
soundproofed and insulated.

I heard a crack. Then a muffled howl of pain. I heard some sobbing and
the voice of Gertrude speaking.

I grasped the door handle and opened it.

They were all there.

In the little room.

Gertrude and Fred sitting on a ratty couch.

Jeff, Jake and Andrew were standing.

Jeff was holding a large stick.

They all turned to face me and in a flash, they all registered
discovery.

I was still confused as Fred and Gertrude jumped up. No one said
anything as I looked beyond Jeff and saw her.

Melanie.

She was naked. Standing with her hands stretched above her head. They
were attached to rope that kept her taught and standing in that
position. Her wrists were bloody from the rope. Her entire body was
cut and bruised. The stick looked to be only one tool that they had
used on her.

Her face was matted with dried hair and blood and tears. Her one eye
was blackened and her mouth was inflamed. She was sobbing. Looking
down her body, I saw written in marker and lipstick words that no
twelve year old, no twenty year old, no adult, should have used.

On her breasts were written "Whore Sacks".

Just above her crotch was written "Whore Cunt".

On her stomach, was a bloody scar that they had carved into her. "Use
me" it read.

My stomach lurched. Andrew began crying. The others dropped their
heads. Jeff ran past me and up the stairs to escape. I heard him leave
the house. It took me a moment, but I then turned to Andrew and said,
"Andrew, go back home. Tell your mother to call the police and an
ambulance." He nodded and ran home.

I grabbed a knife; probably the one used to carve those words into
Melanie's stomach and approached her to cut her down. She saw me
approached and howled with fear. She struggled to escape me, thinking
I was going to inflict more harm and torture on her.

I shushed her and spoke calmly and soothingly to her. Everything was
going to be alright. She was safe now. I was here and she wasn't going
to be harmed again. She calmed down a little and looked into my eyes.
A glimmer of hope was somewhere deep within those pools of blue. I cut
her down and she collapsed into my arms.

I could hear the sirens and Gertrude, Fred and Jake had resigned
themselves and were now sitting back on the couch.

I rode with Melanie to the hospital. She wouldn't let go of me until
they finally sedated her. I met up with my wife Ginny at the hospital.
She was aghast when she saw Melanie asleep in the hospital bed.

 "My god Brandon, what have they done to her?"

 "I don't know, Ginny." I said. "They tortured her. I just have to
wonder what part Andrew played in this."

Ginny blanched. I explained how I found them. Andrew was with Jeff and
Jake who had been beating Melanie with the stick.

The police questioned me about what I had found. They took me down to
the police station where they took my statement and my son Andrew's.
It turned out, through Andrew's story, that Gertrude had become so mad
at little Melanie that she decided to punish her downstairs in the
cellar room.

He recounted the horrors that had transpired as Gertrude had forced
her sons and Andrew to see what a little slut and untrusting whore
Melanie was. She was teaching her a lesson. Soon the lesson got out of
hand and somewhere along the line Gertrude had refused to let up on
Melanie.

She had done things to the tied up girl, stuck things up Melanie's
"cunt". My wife gasped at the word that came out of our little
Andrew's mouth. How could he know such a nasty word?

Gertrude had Fred, her husband, "stick his pecker" in her first.
Gertrude had said that if she was a cock tease, then she needed to
feel what a cock felt like. That had upset Andrew as he was forced to
watch little Melanie scream and beg for Fred to stop. The blood oozed
out her after he was done. She hung lifelessly from her bound wrists.

Over the next few days before I had found her, all the sons had raped
her as well. They had been pressuring Andrew to rape her next.
Gertrude had tried to encourage Andrew in fucking her by calling
Melanie a whore, that it was alright to cause her pain for pleasure
and that she would enjoy it as the slut that she was.

This was where his questions had come from on that fateful night when
he asked me at dinner. That evening, he was called over to "stick his
thingy in her" just like the others did.

In between the rapes, Gertrude had been the one that had written and
carved those hateful words into that soft innocent flesh. The doctors
were not sure when I brought her in if the scarring would fade away
enough that it would be illegible.

Andrew was released under our custody and it was almost morning when
we arrived home to go to sleep. The house was quiet and all three of
us did not sleep. Ginny continued crying. I tossed and turned. I was
sick to my stomach and couldn't get the vision of that poor helpless
child out of my head. To further compound things, I kept seeing Andrew
there, with a disturbing smile on his face and his pants down around
his ankles as he thrust into her.

My eyes snapped open. I had been dreaming about that last part. I
staggered to the bathroom and threw up. I popped an alka seltzer and
went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. I couldn't function
without it.

Ginny joined me soon after. We were like zombies as we went through
the motions of preparing breakfast. Ginny started to call for Andrew
to get up and come down. I stayed her with my hand.

"Let him sleep. Right now I don't think I can look at him."

Ginny had a pained look on her face, but nodded in agreement.

I called into work that morning. I told them a family emergency came
up and I would probably be out the entire week. They understood and
gladly gave me the time off.

My emotions were a jumble of anger, hurt, embarrassment and concern.
That poor girl. How could they do that to her? Those sick people! My
son!

 "How," I asked my wife Ginny. "How could Andrew be a part of that?"

She sat silently beside me at the table. We held each other.

 "I thought we taught him better than that..." I started to cry. Ginny
broke down as well.

It was at that moment when Andrew came sheepishly into the kitchen. We
looked up at him and the looks on our face told him that this morning
was not going to be an easy one for him.

Ginny sat up and put together a plate of food for him while he took a
seat at the table. Once we were all seated again, we began to talk to
him.

 "I guess I screwed up, huh?" he said. His voice cracked a little and
he was trying to hold back the tears.

 "Yes," I said quietly. "Yes you did."

He started to cry now.

I continued.

 "Son, what happened to that girl was so terrible that there was
nothing that she could have possibly done that would have warranted
that type of punishment. I know that you were not the one responsible,
but we are very disappointed in you for keeping this a secret. What in
the hell were you thinking?"

He shrugged.

 "Well? Answer your father!" Ginny prompted him. Ginny and I had
clearly defined roles in the household. I was the disciplinarian, she
the nurturer. This time, there would be no nurturing from her or me.

 "I don't know," he said. He kept his eyes on his plate, afraid to
look at us.

"What type of answer is that?" Ginny's voice rose.

"I don't know," he repeated.

"Andrew...son...I'm sure they put you under a lot of pressure to keep this
a secret. But surely you must have known that what they were doing was
wrong?"

He broke down, crying now. Sobbing, he looked at us. "I was so
confused! I like Melanie! But Jake is my best friend. I didn't want
him to get into trouble!"

Ginny was unsure whether to comfort him. She looked at me for
approval, I nodded. They had manipulated my boy into going along with
this. He had been a witness to the brutality, but had not actually
raped her. At the back of my mind I knew that if I had not come over
when I did, there was a very good chance that Andrew would have been
coerced to rape the poor girl that very evening.

The week went by slowly. I found myself visiting the hospital more
often as little Melanie had no one to sit by her. She had awoken
screaming the next day in terror. They tried to calm her down but
nothing seemed to work. They had administered a sedative to knock her
back out. I consulted with the doctors and they told me that she was
getting better, but mentally she would be a mess, perhaps for the rest
of her life.

She came to while I was sitting next to her, holding her hand. She
looked over at me with wild eyes, adjusted her focus, recognized me
and then clamped down on my hand even harder. She was calm. I called
for the nurse who brought a doctor in to examine her.

Melanie would not let go of my hand. She didn't speak. She started to
fidget when the doctor, a man, tried to examine her. I spoke to her
softly and soothingly, trying to keep her calm.

"Shhhhh! Everything is alright. You're safe now, Melanie. No one is
going to hurt you. They will not hurt you ever again."

She relaxed a little but kept her focus on me as the doctor carefully
examined her.

Child Protective Services came for a visit to screen her and set her
up with foster care. She was unresponsive to them. She refused to let
go of my hand. When they were done, I asked Melanie to let me go for a
moment while I spoke with the Child Protective Services person outside
in private. She was reluctant to let me go, but trusted that I would
return.

Outside in the hall I asked the lady what they had planned for
Melanie. She frowned. This was a special case. The story had gotten
out and the news was covered with all sorts of stories about the case.

 "She seems unresponsive to anyone other than you, Mr. Jeffries."

 "Please, call me Brandon." I said.

 "I'm afraid she will probably be institutionalized. It's too soon to
tell and a psychologist needs to see her, but I don't think there is a
foster family that will be able to deal with her."

I thought for a moment. I had been mulling this situation over in my
mind for quite some time.

 "Do you think it would help if I were to take her in? Become her
guardian?"

The lady was a little surprised.

 "I'm not sure, Mr. Jeffries. She is attached to you right now.
However given the circumstances, I'm not sure that would be a good
idea."

 "I see," I said. "I feel very guilty about what happened. I know it
isn't my fault, but I need to make it up to her. I need to protect her
right now. She is looking to me, and I promised her that she would be
safe."

 "Mr. Jeffries, let's see what the psychologist says after she is
examined, I'm sure you want the best for her, whatever that situation
might be."

I nodded. "The best thing for her would have been to never have stayed
with her psycho aunt to begin with."

She nodded sadly, turned and left.

Ginny and Andrew visited the hospital a few times. Melanie didn't
react upon seeing Andrew. I guess that was an improvement. Andrew went
over to her and apologized to her. He begged her to forgive him. It
took a lot of guts for my son to do that. Afterwards, I hugged him and
told him I was proud.

The psychologist came and saw her. I stayed with Melanie while she was
"in-session". By this time she was starting to speak again. It was
very slow going, but what we got out of that visit was that she felt
safe around me, and it became pretty clear that the best scenario for
Melanie was to have me become her guardian.

The media grew and grew over the week. They were everywhere - at the
hospital, at our house, and even at my work. Melanie was moved to a
secure room away from prying eyes as she recovered.

Before the week was finished, Jake, he turned himself in. There was a
debate on whether he would be tried as an adult once charges were
filed. I met with the Assistant D.A., a very stern woman named Rosalyn
Rust. She was willing to drop all charges against my son Andrew for
his cooperation and testimony against the others. Our lawyer
recommended we take the deal and I breathed a sigh of relief that my
son would not be facing his own trial.

The night before Melanie was due to be discharged into my care, the
house next door caught fire. It had been unoccupied since Gertrude's
family was still being kept in jail awaiting pre-trial.

Ginny said she called the fire department, but was not surprised when
they showed up much later when there was no chance to save the house.
It burned down to the ground. The neighbors stood outside and watched
it burn. It was sort of cathartic as we purged that evil place from
the neighborhood.

Ginny and I helped Melanie into our car as we left the hospital. The
media crowded us, begging for a statement. We gave none. They were at
our house when we drove up; again, we gave them no comment.

After getting in, Ginny showed Melanie the guest room that had been
redone in girl colors, pinks and pastels, with a fresh bed for her.
This would now be her room.

Ginny came down and sat with me in the living room.

 "Brandon, you are going to have to do something about those
reporters."

 "I know," I said. They would stay here until we gave them something.

 "How about we give them a quick statement?" I asked.

She seemed to agree, but she told me that Melanie should not be
present.

I called my lawyer to ask him to help me with a statement to the
press, because this was an ongoing investigation. He came over and we
were able to hash out something to give to the press. He made sure to
stand with me when I exited my front door to give the bloodsuckers
what they wanted.

"Mr. Jeffries has a short statement and then he will be able to take a
few questions. Because this is an open case, we cannot divulge much
information, so please be patient and respect this family's right to
some privacy," my lawyer said.

I stepped forward; microphones were shoved into my face.

"Melanie is recovering. Her physical injuries are almost healed, but
her emotional injuries may never be. The courts have given me
guardianship over her and it is my duty to help her recover from this
ordeal. We ask, no beg you, to please leave her and my family alone as
she cannot cope with the constant reminder of what she went through."

Looking into the cameras, I faced the reporters before me.

"If this was your daughter, how would you feel? Please respect her
privacy and let us try to heal her. She deserves at least that, don't
you think?"

The reporters were silent. There seemed to be an agreement.

"I will take a few questions, I cannot promise that I can answer them,
but I realize you all have a job to do, so I will give you some time
now, in the understanding that there will be none after this."

"How does it feel to be a hero?" asked one of the reporters.

I was shocked. "I am not a hero. If anything I helped contribute to
this mess. I should have known sooner."

 "What do you mean by that?" He countered.

Shrugging, I said, "I should have noticed the signs sooner."

 "How could you know?"

 "I just could have been more aware... if I had seen it sooner... I would
have been able to help her."

 "You saved her life!"

 "Did I? What kind of life does she face now?"

They were quiet after that. I was shaking with guilt. Another reporter
asked a question.

 "How is your family doing? What is the status of your son? Wasn't he
implicated in the act?"

My lawyer jumped in before I could answer.

 "As far as Mr. Jeffries' son, that is confidential. We cannot comment
on that."

 "My family is upset." I answered. "We are trying to deal with the
trauma we are facing. Melanie now is a part of our family and we will
work with her to try to heal her as best as we can."

My lawyer thought that it was a good time to call the press conference
quits.

 "That's all folks! Mr. Jeffries has to go back to his family. Please
respect his privacy. I have also gotten a court order taken out that
restricts non-family members from being within 100 yards from the
Jeffries family, that includes little Melanie as well. We will have
this strictly enforced for the mental wellbeing of Melanie."

Everyone walked on eggshells around Melanie for the next few days. We
tried to stick with an ordinary schedule, breakfast, lunch, and
dinner. Everyone stayed inside to avoid any reporters that were
lurking around.

Andrew and Ginny tried to engage with Melanie, but she seemed to
respond to only me. She had a habit of sitting next to me, whether it
was at the table or on the sofa. That first evening, I tucked her into
bed, a seventeen year old girl, nearly a woman, who was afraid of the
dark. I sat with her for a while until she fell asleep, and then I
went and joined Ginny in our bed.

"Brandon, are we going to be able to deal with this?" she asked me.

I was unsure. "I don't know honey, but we have to try."

She didn't see Melanie trussed up. That image was burned into my
memory for all time. I just couldn't bear seeing the girl in pain
again.

Ginny knew my pain. She tried to share it with me and we embraced and
held each other as I turned off the lights and we went to sleep.

I don't know what time it was, it was still dark out and it seemed
like I had just closed my eyes, when I was awakened by something. I
tried to get my mind to work as my eyes adjusted in the dark. I saw a
shape standing at the foot of the bed, looking at us. It was Melanie.

"Mel?" I whispered. My wife was still asleep. "What are you doing
here?"

She just watched me. "I got scared," she finally said.

I untangled myself from Ginny and eased myself out of bed. Luckily I
was wearing some sweat pants! I took hold of her and walked her back
to her room. I set her back in bed and sat on the bed with her. She
held my hand.

"Oh god, Mr. Jeffries, how am I going to get over this? I panic when
I'm alone. Nothing seems to help me except seeing you, being near
you."

I squeezed her hand. "It will get better. I promise. You've had a
nasty trauma, you have to heal."
She sobbed. "What if I can't heal? What if I can never recover from
this?"

She broke down and started crying. I hugged her.

 "Calm down. You're safe now. We'll help you get better. I promise you
that."

 "But what if I don't?" She wailed. "What's going to happen to me?"

I stroked her back while she cried in my arms.

 "You will have a home here always. Think of this as your safe harbor.
If you don't get better then you don't have to worry about being left
alone." Had I really just said that?

She pulled back to look my in my face. Her eyes were red with crying.
There was a faint glimmer of hope. "You, you mean that?"

I nodded and smiled. She hugged me tighter.

Over the next few days, it became increasingly apparent that I had a
little tag-along. Melanie would follow me wherever I went. Ginny was
getting frustrated as she started to think that she had to share her
husband's time and attention with the seventeen year old girl. What
was even more frustrating was because of Melanie's fragile condition,
if I had to choose between the two of them, Melanie would be my choice
to pay attention to. She needed it right now, and both Ginny and I
discussed that numerous times, when Ginny started bringing up the
"unhealthiness" of Melanie's relationship with me.

There were a few times when Ginny had woken up in the middle of the
night to find Melanie staring unnervingly at us in bed, in the dark.
Ginny was getting creeped out, and started having misgivings on taking
Melanie in.

 "Brandon, I just don't think we are reaching her!" she told be.

 "Be patient, Ginny. She's been through a lot."

Ginny stewed. I went back to work that Monday, leaving Ginny, Andrew
and Melanie home.

I got a call around noon from Ginny.

 "She's locked herself in the bedroom! I can't get her out!"

Ginny had agreed to take Melanie to the psychologist's office that
afternoon. I had spoken to Melanie about it with Ginny the previous
day and we all seemed to have agreed. Now it looked like Melanie had
changed her mind. I begged my boss for more time off. He gave it to
me. I was being called a hero around town; it wouldn't look good to
fire the hero!

I'm not sure the shrink was helping much. It had been three weeks that
we had been taking Melanie to him and she didn't seem to be
responding. Her relationship with Ginny was becoming more strained.
Andrew avoided Melanie and because of that I didn't see him often. He
had withdrawn and started hanging around with his mother a lot more.

Melanie always seemed to open up to me when we were alone, whether it
was playing cards in the living room together, or watching television.
Whenever Ginny or Andrew came in Melanie would become more reserved.

Ginny and I tried to be intimate in the evenings but she became
concerned about Melanie barging in on us.

"I could lock the door," I motioned. It had been a while and I was
feeling frisky.

 "No," she told me. "That might upset her."

I was starting to get frustrated myself. "I miss my wife, damnit! I
want you!"

Ginny just held me. "I want you too, but you are right, Brandon.
Melanie needs your attention right now and locking her out could cause
her more damage."

I grudgingly agreed. We went to sleep that night, holding each other
yet I felt we had fallen farther apart. I knew then that we all needed
to get some counseling. Melanie was putting a strain on everyone's
relationship.

The summer was fast turning into autumn. School would be starting soon
and the entire family was now going to counseling. It was slow going.
Melanie still clung to me. My wife and I were understandably
frustrated. Sex between us had disappeared, having been replaced by
chaste kisses before going to sleep.

My work was suffering as well. I had to cut back to eighty percent
time as I would be called to take Melanie to the shrink's office. The
next hurdle was fast approaching. A trial date was set for September
and we were all getting anxious. Andrew was to be called up onto the
stand to testify for the prosecution. It had been decided that Melanie
would be kept away from the trial as much as possible. Mentally, she
couldn't face any of her family.

The reporters tried to honor our requests, but there was always
someone who tried to get a scoop or exclusive. They hung out at the
doctor's office and near my work. I was forced to push past them,
normally holding Melanie protectively close to me as we traveled to
and from my car. My wife just couldn't handle the pressure of the
reporters so it fell to me to take Melanie to her appointments.

It turned out that Ginny accompanied my son Andrew to court while I
stayed home and watched over Melanie. We had brought in a home school
instructor who worked with Melanie on doing school work. She was very
patient with Melanie, and to some extent, Melanie was able to engage
with the instructor whether Ginny or myself was there in the house.
That seemed to be a good sign.

When Ginny and Andrew came home, Andrew took one look at me, wiped his
tearstained eyes and ran to his room.

"What happened?" I asked Ginny as she hung up her jacket.
"The defense really did a number on Andy." She told me.

 "They pretty much accused him of raping Melanie and wondered what
lies he told the prosecutor to get himself out of jail."

 "Those bastards!" I was angry. I was also sad that I wasn't there to
give him support. He had needed it.

The following days Ginny took Andrew back to court as they continued
to grill him on the stand. I had spoken with Andrew the first evening
and each subsequent one, trying to cheer him up. I told him I was very
proud of him and I wished that I could be there with him.

 "Why can't you, Dad?" he asked me. There was a hint of an accusation
in the way he said it.

 "You know why, son." I sighed.

He just shrugged and then we stopped speaking for the night as he
prepared for bed.

A few weeks later, the jury found all of Melanie's family guilty. They
were sentenced to prison. Jake, being a minor was remanded into a
foster home away from our town.

We had something to celebrate, but no one really felt like
celebrating. Melanie at least felt a little better, knowing that her
family could not harm her.

Life settled back into what we now thought of as "normal". Still
without sex, Ginny and I started snapping at each other. We tried
going away for an evening, but got called back when Melanie started
freaking out.

We became roommates, my wife and I. What made matters worse was that
Andrew, my son, cut himself off from me. I started noticing that he
never would engage with me unless I made the first move. He never
spoke to me unless I asked him something. He always went to his
mother.

The other thing I noticed was that Andrew refused to be in the same
room as Melanie. He would literally get up and leave the room when she
entered. Since Melanie always stayed with me, it became a rare event
when I would see my son. I missed him.

Ever so subtly my relationship with Melanie started to change. Not
only was she close to me, she started touching me as well. At first it
was just physical contact. The counselors thought that it was a good
sign. But her lingering touches started to make me feel uncomfortable.
I was hesitant to push her away, but with my frustration level high
from the non-existent sex I was getting, her touches were, god forgive
me, started to affect me.

Ginny noticed as well. In the evenings when Ginny would try to spend
time with me in the living room, she would sit opposite me on the
other couch, while Melanie, sat next to me, holding and caressing me.
My wife had been separated from me by this girl. I could see the hurt
in her eyes as she tried to ignore it.

It wasn't much longer when I came home to find that Ginny and Andrew
had left. Ginny wanted a divorce, and since I had no relationship with
Andrew my son anymore, he went with her. That left Melanie and I alone
in the house.

In October, Melanie turned eighteen.

She was now an adult and was free to make her own decisions. When I
told her this after she had just blown the birthday cake candles out,
her face turned to fear.

 "You're kicking me out?" she sobbed.

Ummmm...

 "No!" I quickly said. "No! You are now considered an adult and as
such I am no longer your guardian."

She just looked at me with big wet eyes.

 "I am not kicking you out. You are always welcome here, and by now I
hope that you think of this as home. I'm just... Melanie, I'm just
telling you that you are old enough to make your own decisions now. If
you want my help, I will always be happy to help you."

She took my words in and snuggled up into me. She shivered and I held
her and rubbed her arms to warm her up. We sat there together in
silence. Finally I turned to her and asked her if she wanted to go
out. There was a movie that she had seemed keen to see.

"Really?" she asked me.

 "Yeah, I figured you've been cooped up in this house long enough.
Besides, it's your birthday!"

She smiled.

 "Okay," she said. "It's a date! Lemme go get changed!"

I smiled and released her from the couch. It would be nice to be
around other people for a change. I certainly wasn't interested in the
movie, but up until now, Melanie had shown no interest in going out of
the house except for her appointments. This was encouraging!

"Promise me you won't laugh?" she asked me from behind her bedroom
door. She was waiting to come out. I was confused at first so dumbly
nodded then added, "Yes, I promise."

She opened the door and stepped out. She was wearing one of my wife's
dresses and she looked...mature. She looked stunning. She looked so
unsure of herself - looking at me with pleading eyes, looking for
acceptance, looking at me for approval.

I smiled. She smiled coyly back. I took her hand and we left for the
movie theater.

The movie was some Disney dribble where the teen girl was in love with
two different boys. I didn't really follow it, as I was not interested
and was more on the lookout for anyone that might recognize us and
perhaps want to intrude. I wanted to show Melanie that she could be
just another person that no one noticed.

We got home that evening and I turned on the lights and made some
coffee in the kitchen. Melanie was giggling about the movie and how
childish the boys seemed to her. We sat down after the coffee was made
and both had a cup.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" I asked her.

"Yes, thank you Brandon," she replied. At some point I don't remember
when, but she had taken to calling me by my first name.

 "You've done so much for me, that I just don't know how to thank
you."

 I waved her off. "Don't worry about it. It's my pleasure."

 She was a little sad then.

 "No, I mean it, Brandon. What happened to me has affected you. You've
lost your family because of me --" She started to cry.

I got up and went over to her.

 "Sometimes things change in life, Melanie." I said. "You needed
someone and I became the one to help you and be there for you. It
hasn't been easy, but I just couldn't turn my back on you."

She stared up into my eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek.

 "You've suffered as well." She said.

I shrugged. It was the truth.

She reached tentatively upward with her hand and softly stroked my
cheek.

Uh, where was this going?

 "Let me heal some of your pain, Brandon. You have healed me, let me
heal you."  She pulled my face down to hers and kissed me!

I pulled back in shock.

 "What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

 "I love you, Brandon. I want to be with you."

I pulled away.

 "Brandon, please! You've done everything for me; let me do something
for you. Be with me. Love me like I love you!"

I stammered and took another step back. She was looking at me with big
eyes and a love and devotion that even my wife had never shown me. It
had been four months without sex. My cock had decided what he thought
of the proposition, but my mind just went back to the image of her
tied up in the cellar room, with writing and carvings on her body.

"No!" I choked out. "I can't, Melanie. I can't do anything like that
to you."

She just looked at me and then got up and came towards me.

 "You're an innocent girl. I'm a married man."

 "Divorced," she reminded me. "Your wife left you. She couldn't stand
that I loved you more than she did."

That hurt.

 "Melanie," I gasped. "How can you say something like that?"

 "It's true! You are my everything! You saved my life. You own me. I
owe everything to you. I want to give everything I have to you.
Forever. I love you. I am in love with you. Love me!"

She was upon me. One of her hands was stroking my cock through my
pants. The other hand had locked onto my neck. She was kissing me.

My emotions were in turmoil. This was all very sudden. I pulled her
arms off me and stepped back.

 "Listen, Melanie, this is so sudden. I can't think right now."

She just looked at me confused. Tears welled up in her eyes.

 "Brandon, you have been there for me, you have sacrificed so much for
me. You are my hero, my protector. I would be dead if it wasn't for
you. I love you."

I nodded.

 "I know you think you do, Melanie. It's just that you have shown me
how you feel, but I don't know how I feel. Please. Give me some time
to think about this. You are so much younger than I."

She nodded. I think she was unable to speak at that moment. She turned
on her heel and ran up to her room, slamming the door.

I stood there for a long time in my empty house. It was too quiet as I
thought about Melanie. My mind and heart were in conflict. I was alone
now. I had lost Ginny and my son. It was because of my taking care of
Melanie that I lost them. A part of me felt like a total failure.
Often I thought about my failed marriage and losing my son. What kind
of a man could let that happen? But at the very least I could take
solace in the fact that I was there for someone who was in need.
Someone who had nowhere else to turn. It had cost me everything, but I
did feel like I had saved a life. But at what cost?

I loved Melanie, but like a daughter. She had fallen in love with me.
Looking back I realized that everyone could see her falling in love
with me, everyone but me. I was blind to the fact. Now I realized why
it was so hard for my wife to stay here. Daily she saw this young girl
come between her and her husband and there was nothing she could do.
It must have broken her heart to be in a situation where another woman
was slowly taking her partner, her love away from her and I wasn't
aware of any of it.

Had Melanie done this on purpose? Had she manipulated me and my
family? I was confused and my feelings were raw. I kept visualizing
that poor girl in the basement room. She was so innocent, wasn't she?
Her Aunt didn't seem to think so. No, I must put those thoughts out of
my head. Her Aunt was sick. Sick!

Melanie avoided me the next few days. She gave me my space as I tried
looking into my feelings. One thing was certain. I hated being alone.
With my family gone, and now Melanie avoiding me, life in my house was
dark, quiet and lonely.

On the third day I knocked on Melanie's door. She called me in and
looked up at me with her big eyes.

"Hi," I said.

She just nodded quietly, waiting for me to speak.

I sat down on the bed next to her.

"I've been thinking about us, Melanie," I said. "I've missed you."

 "I missed you too," she said quietly.

I took her hand and hesitated for a moment before I brought it to my
lips and kissed it. I looked at her for approval. Our eyes met and
after I pulled her to me and our lips met. She showered me with
kisses. I returned them all. I was surprised at how excited I was
feeling.

 "Oh I love you, I love you, I love you," she whispered between
kisses.

I swallowed hard and then told her that I loved her as well.

We didn't make love that night. We fell asleep on her bed with our
clothes still on. It was an epic make out session, something out of
high school rather than, well what adults do.

I wasn't too sure if sex would be alright for her. Melanie had gone
through a lot and sex might just affect her with a bad flashback.

The next morning I saw a distinct improvement with her attitude and
personality. She was bubbly and although she hovered near me, there
was an intimacy between us that she seemed thrilled with.

I was still conflicted with my feelings. I had grown fond of her and
cared deeply for her, but I was having trouble looking at this young
girl, make that young woman, as a sexual creature.

She had curves in all the right places and she was on the petite side
which was something that I missed when I had fallen in love with my
wife who was a taller, larger woman. But I still had the images of her
in that basement room all battered and bruised in my mind whenever I
tried to have sexual feelings for her.

The rest of the week we continued to cuddle and kiss but I was adamant
that we not rush things. I tried to convince her that I was having
trouble adjusting to our new relationship. Slowly I became aroused
around her. It had been a long time since I had been intimate with
anyone, the last being my wife long before she left me.

I came home from work Friday night to be greeted by Melanie, who had
arranged a candlelight dinner. Soft music was playing in the
background and I knew that tonight was the night that we would
consummate our relationship. I was eager to get this over with as once
and for all we could put the past behind us. I would either be able to
perform or I wouldn't, and then we could go from there.

"I want the lights out, Brandon," she whispered as we finished our
kiss on my bed.

I rolled over and switched the lamp off. It took a few moments for our
eyes to adjust in the dark but we could make out our shapes. We
undressed and slipped into bed. She sidled up to me and wrapped
herself around me. I held her and slowly kissed her.

Gently and tentatively, she reached down to my crotch and grasped my
cock in her small hand. It responded and blood surged into my member,
hardening. It had been a long time since someone else had touched me
there.

I let her lead. She would be able to take things as fast or slowly as
she felt comfortable. I became harder and a groan escaped my surprised
mouth. Up and down she stroked and soon I was panting in short
breaths.

"If you don't stop that..." I said. "I'm going to cum!"

She pulled her hand off of me before the feelings overwhelmed me and
then lay back and slowly spread her legs. Touching her down there in
her crotch I slowly worked her into a lather. She was well lubricated
by the time she started to squirm. No words or sound came from her
mouth.

I looked at her one final time in question and she nodded. She was
ready for me.

I crawled on top of her, careful not to crush her, and my cock slowly
found her hole. She was tight and it took me some time to slowly work
myself in. She grunted and I hesitated.

"No, don't stop," she told me. She gave me a reassuring smile.

Soon I was all the way in her. We stayed like that for a long time and
then I slowly started to stroke within in. She still was quiet and I
asked her again if she was ok. She nodded yes.

It was only a short time later that I came deep within her. Finished I
rolled off her and held her. She hadn't cum. I didn't expect that she
would. Now she felt closer to me. Her body had taken on a confidence
that she was now pulling her weight around the household. She had
given me the one thing that she still owned; herself.

 "I love you, I love you, I love you!" she cried into my chest. Our
juices were mixed together as she seemed to fall asleep. I held her
and stayed awake.

I must have fallen asleep at some point in the night because Melanie
woke me up with a loving kiss. She kissed me all over my face and
chest as I tried to focus my eyes and clean out the gunk that had
glued my eyes shut.

I took her into my embrace and we lay there for a long time while I
woke up and tried to sort out my emotions. We had crossed a boundary,
and I found that I was not having a hard time thinking of our future
together in this new relationship.

I still felt like a heel, but Melanie seemed to be much better now.
She was more sure of herself and there began an understanding of each
of our roles now that we had consummated the relationship. She was
never my daughter, never my friend, only my charge, and because of
that she had been unsure as to how to relate to me in any other way
than as her protector.

Now with my new role as her lover, she began to blossom. The
insecurity started to leave, and she became a little more independent.
Now she could be in another room away from me. She still didn't go out
alone, but I sensed that our new relationship had a healing effect on
her.

A week passed by and Melanie finally felt comfortable having sex with
me with the lights on. I drank in her body while she explored mine.
There were faint scars over her body but much of it had disappeared.
The carved writing in her belly had all but faded and I marveled at
the healing powers of young people.

Our lovemaking started to become more liberating and daring. Melanie
was starting to become insatiable. We quickly graduated from the
bedroom to the living room to all the rooms in the house. It seemed
that she was adamant in purging herself with sex.

I started to try to encourage her to go outside by herself. She seemed
very reluctant to do this but slowly I was able to get her to go out
and check the mail, get the newspaper and actually be comfortable in
the front yard. The neighbors still stared at her; we would never
really escape her past, our past, but she seemed less bothered by it.

The sessions with the shrink continued. I had been able to work out a
flexible work schedule with my company and was still shuttling Melanie
back and forth from the doctor's office. My life was completely
consumed with Melanie. Even when I was away from her, my thoughts
always drifted towards her and our evolving relationship. The hurt
little girl was slowly being replaced by a sultry sexy woman, my
woman, my charge, that was to be protected and loved by me.

Christmas came and I decided to treat Melanie to a little vacation up
in the mountains. The company had a cabin that could be reserved at a
good deal by employees and I managed to snag it for the week of
Christmas. We would go skiing up there and play in the snow and get
away from the town and the house. I was in much need of a break from
the hectic schedule I was in.

Melanie was thrilled and devoted her time on planning for the trip.
She investigated all the places we could visit up there and had set
about rummaging through the garage for all the winter items, trying to
find stuff left behind by my ex-wife and son that could be reused from
our trip. Money was tight and she did her best to not spend any more
money than what was absolutely needed.

The drive up took many hours and as we went farther away from our
town, Melanie became more and more comfortable. I hadn't realized how
much living in the same town, the same neighborhood had affected her.
As we escaped that place, Melanie seemed to be almost normal.

We had a lot of fun that week, but something that became a bit
disturbing was Melanie's insistence that I become more forceful with
her during our lovemaking. At first it was her exclaiming to me to
fuck her harder. Then it slowly morphed to asking me to pin her hands
down while I took her.

By the end of the week she was begging me to tie her up and use her. I
balked at first, but she was very persuasive as she knelt before me
and sucked my cock to hardness, teasing me and speaking to me about
how hot it would be to be helpless before me, the one person she
trusted.

I tied her loosely to the bed, there was enough slack in the knots so
that she could escape if she wanted to. At first she wanted the rope
tighter, she didn't want to escape, but I was firm. I didn't want to
bring up bad memories for her and wanted her to feel a little control.

She sighed and gave in and I went to work seducing my captive. She
kept urging me to tease her, to taunt her and to make her beg for
release. I kept her on edge for a long time and when I finally pushed
her over the edge, she enjoyed it but afterwards she seemed distant
and let down.

"What's wrong, my love?" I asked her after untying her and spooning
with her on the bed.

She was quiet for the longest time.

 "You gave in to me too easily," she finally muttered.

 "I did?"

She turned to face me, still in my arms.

 "I'm different from others, Brandon," she said. "I love you, but I
need you to control me, to take me, to hurt me.

She said the last part in almost a whisper. She couldn't look me in
the eyes.

 "Hurt you? I could never do that," I exclaimed.

I tried pulling away but she gripped me tighter.

 "Brandon, I'm fucked up, but I love you. I have these needs and you
are the only person I trust to give me these needs."

A tear tickled down her face.

My eyes started to burn to.

 "Mel, I love you too, but I don't think I can ever get the picture of
you in that basement out of my head. I could never do something like
that to you. It would kill me. It hurts just thinking about that."

We cried together as we stopped speaking and eventually went to sleep.
Tomorrow we would be headed home and I realized that we had not solved
anything. I thought she was getting better. Now I wondered if she
would ever be whole again.

Over the next few months, Melanie slowly brought me along into her
fantasy play. Always I was the aggressor, always I was to take control
away from her. Each session became more and more aggressive and harsh.
She begged me to start calling her names, like cunt and dirty whore.
Always she would orgasm. There were times when we had regular, vanilla
as she liked to call it, sex. She enjoyed that as well, but to me it
seemed like she was just humoring me. There was a wandering fondness
for the other sessions that I would see in her eyes after our regular
sex.

Therapy sessions seemed to be at a standstill. I spoke with the shrink
about this new turn of events and she seemed to think it was a good
thing that Melanie was working out these feelings with someone she
trusted. Melanie knew that I would never do anything to harm her so
enacting these sessions was a safe way for Melanie to take back
control over her sexuality.

I pointed out to the shrink that Melanie was becoming more and more
enamored by the harsh sex sessions and less enthusiastic with the
tender lovemaking. It had me worried. I wasn't sure if I could give
Melanie what she wanted or needed.

"Brandon, where do you see this relationship going?" the therapist
asked.

 "I don't know," I admitted. I never really stopped to think about it.
Everything was a reaction to what had happened to Melanie since that
day of discovery.

 "You've put your entire life on hold. You've lost your wife and your
kid for her, to take care of her."

I nodded.

 "Maybe it's time for you to reclaim your life. Melanie might be ready
to leave and spread her wings. It might just be that you have done as
much as you can but now it's time to let go."

I bristled at that comment and the session ended shortly afterwards.

The next week while Melanie was tied up to the bed she asked me to hit
her.

 "On my ass, give me a spank, slap your bitch!" she cried out.

I froze.

 "Do it!"

I got off her and untied her. "I can't do that. I can't hurt you."

She had a confused look on her face. I started crying.

 "I swore I would protect you Mel. What you're doing is killing me.
I'm becoming like them."

I planted my face into my hands. I would not be like them - like her
brutal Aunt and cousins. I would protect her. Save her. Keep her safe.

Melanie got dressed and left the room. Perhaps I had given her all
that I could. Maybe it was time for her to spread her wings. I knew
that I could never do to her what she now wanted. I could never hit
her. It was hard enough to tie her up and fuck her. I had purposely
never tied her in the position that I had found her in that basement.
I just couldn't get over that image of that broken girl. Now it was
killing me to see her revert back to that girl.

Then next few days were tense. Melanie spoke few words and finally I
sat her down to speak with her.

"I don't understand what it is that you are looking for, Mel."

She said nothing.

 "I gave you all of the love and compassion I have, but it doesn't
seem to be enough. This new phase you are in, this hurting phase, I
can't do it, I can't hurt you. It hurts me so much to see this."

She started crying. "I'm all fucked up, I don't know why I want this,"
she said.

 "I don't know either, Mel. But all I can tell you is that I love you,
but I can't do this."

She nodded sadly.

We went to bed holding each other. No sex. Just tenderness.

I went off to work the next day and when I came home, she was gone.

There was no note. Her clothes were gone, and the money for groceries
and other sundries was taken as well. I waited for her for a week.
Every phone call I grabbed on the first ring. I wandered the streets
in search of her. She knew no one. I had no idea where to look. I
filed a police report and they did their best to follow up but she had
vanished.

I slept little. My days and nights filled with "What ifs" bouncing
around in my mind.

'What if I had been able to hit her, hurt her?'

'What if I hadn't pushed her?'

 'What if I kept quiet?'

Emotionally, I was spent. After that first week I wandered around like
a zombie. I had failed her. Now she had left me because I could not
give her what she needed. I had told her I would be there for her and
now I had abandoned her.

The only thing that saved me was work. I poured all my energy into
work and was able to finally get out of the financial hole I had been
in since Melanie had come to stay with me. After the first month I had
given up hope that Melanie would ever be back. She was broken when I
had found her in that basement, and all the work the doctors and I had
done on her could not put her back together again.

There were times when I was angry with her. There were times when I
was angry with myself. I questioned whether I had done the right thing
in taking responsibility for her. I could have had my life back with
my wife and son. Now they were gone as well. I was left with nothing
and no one.

My co-workers urged me to go out and socialize. I did a few times but
really I was not ready to open up again. Melanie and my divorce had
taken such an emotional toll on me that I was content with feeling
numb, with feeling nothing.

A few of the women at work flirted with me in the hopes that they
could fix me. I was now seen as broken as well. My problem in their
eyes was that I cared too much. To them that was a good problem for a
man to have. They all knew how much energy and devotion that I spent
both on my wife and on Melanie. I guess they thought that I was more
man that others. Interesting since I felt like less of a man. I had
lost my family and Melanie. Twice a failure and half a man.

It was six months later on a sunny evening that I came across Melanie
waiting at my doorstep when I pulled in from work. At first I didn't
recognize her. She had chopped her hair short and it was dyed black.
She seemed a little thinner than before and even though it was warm
outside she was huddled on the front step like she was cold.

When I recognized her I stopped the car and jumped out and ran to her.
She stood up and hugged me. Tears were streaming down both our eyes as
I ushered her into the house. A thousand questions came up as I wanted
to know everything that had happened, where did she go, how was she,
etc.

She told me she was fine. I made some coffee and we sat at the kitchen
table.

After a while she spoke.

 "I didn't think you would be happy to see me," she said.

 "Don't be silly, why would you think that?"

 "After our last talk... I thought you didn't love me anymore."

I was taken aback. "Why would you ever think that?"

She looked down into her coffee cup.

 "I needed things... things you didn't want to give me."

I stood up and went over to her and knelt before her and took her in
my arms.

 "Honey, I couldn't give you those things. I've given you everything I
could give you, I was trying to be honest with you, what you wanted
was something I could not do to you."

We sat there for some time, both of us holding each other, afraid to
let the other go.

"You're welcome to stay here if you like," I finally said. She nodded
and thanked me.

That evening, she went to sleep in her old room, while I slept in my
empty bed. We would have to talk, and soon. My life had been on hold
for too long. I was getting tired of this. I needed closure. One way
or another I needed to know where I stood with Melanie. She would have
to know it as well.

I took the next day off, calling in sick and telling my boss that
Melanie had returned and we needed to settle some things. He was
understanding and wished me luck.

When Melanie came downstairs I had breakfast ready and we sat and ate
together. "I missed this," she said as she dug into the pancakes. We
finished breakfast and I sat her on the couch.

 "Mel, we need to talk, we need to figure out what is going to happen
with us. Is there an us?"

She sighed.

 "I don't know where you went these past six months, but every day I
wondered about you, worried about you, and asked myself whether I
would ever see you again. Maybe you can tell me what happened?"

She nodded.

"After you refused to hurt me, I was confused. Something inside kept
pushing me to be more and more wild. I hated what my Aunt did to me,
but the actual acts themselves were exciting. I realized that I was
starting to crave them again. I thought that what those acts were was
true sex. What we had was love but I wanted more, I started to crave
to be taken. While you were away at work, I went on the internet and
started reading up on sex and other acts. I started to get interested
in harder sex. Bondage really turned me on and when you tied me up it
was different from when my Aunt did it."

She adjusted herself and continued.

"What she did to me, I had no say in; what I wanted you to do to me,
was something I could control. I trusted you and with my urges I
wanted to explore some of the feelings I had when my Aunt and my
cousins did things to me. Not all of it was bad, some of it I
enjoyed."

I was shocked to hear that she enjoyed what her Aunt and cousins did
to her.

"The idea of being helpless and having someone take advantage over me,
it turns me on. But what they did to me was too much. There was no
love, no compassion. I was a thing. That turned me on, but when there
was no one on the other end that cared for me, it was torture. They
hurt me, they tortured me, and some of the acts were too much. I was
forced and had no say. But with you, I felt your love, I felt your
compassion, I trusted you. I wanted to let loose and give you myself.
You have given me everything, you have lost your life to me, and I
wanted to give you mine in return."

She was fighting back the tears and her voice quaked as she finished.
I hugged her and kissed her on the nose. "I never asked anything of
you," I said.

She smacked me in the chest. "That's just it,  Brandon. You never
asked me for anything. You gave and gave and gave and all I did was
take. It wasn't a fair exchange."

"You needed me, you needed help," I returned.

"I did in the beginning, but somewhere along the line you protected me
too much. You isolated me from everything. You did everything and I
had nothing. I had no other place to go, no other friends to see, I
was as much a prisoner in your house as I was in my Aunts."

I recoiled at that statement. I let her go and anger surged through
me.

 "How dare you accuse me," I started. My voice rose as the months, no
make that years of frustration boiled out of me.

 "You were not ready for others, you didn't want to leave the house,
you latched onto me. What was I supposed to do?"

Melanie got up and tried to hug me; she tried to deflate the issue.

 "You did everything. You are not my Aunt. I am not comparing what she
did to me, to what happened to us."

I allowed her to hug me, but I was still angry. Changing tactics I
snapped at her.
"Where have you been these past six months?"

She was started by the venom in my voice.

 "All I did for you, I gave you my heart and my life and you left me,
with no warning, no word, no letter, nothing. I didn't know if you
were still alive."

She sat me down again and held my hands.

 "I needed to leave, to figure things out for myself. I was feeling
confused and you were right, you couldn't give me what I needed or
wanted at the time. I thought you could but you did not have it in
you."

That hurt and I struck back.

 "I gave you everything but I wouldn't hurt you. So you left me.
That's fucked up Mel."

She had never heard me swear and she blushed.

 "I met someone over the internet. At first they were able to talk to
me about what I was feeling. They encouraged me to continue to try to
get you to go along with my desires. When it became clear you could
not do those things to me, they offered to help me."

I did not like where this was going.

 "Mel..." I started but she continued.

"Brandon, I needed to do this, and I knew you wouldn't understand. The
look in your eyes when we played our tie up games was painful enough.
I left you because I didn't think you loved me and could give me what
I wanted. I went to him and experimented. We did things --"

"Stop! I don't want to hear it. Why are you telling me this, Mel? Why
are you hurting me?"

I thought I had fixed her, but I hadn't. She had been broken beyond
repair. All that time was wasted. I felt a failure, and the girl, make
that woman I loved, that I thought loved me, was breaking my heart.

"Please," she begged. "Let me finish."

I nodded but let go of her hands.

 "We did things, things I wanted to do with you, but you couldn't. We
tried but it wasn't the same. It was more like what my Aunt and
cousins did. There was no love, it was just sex. There was not the
trust that we had. It was empty. He didn't hurt me, not like that, but
everything he did was compared to you and I found that I missed you. I
missed your love. I missed the trust."

My mouth was dry. If this had been my wife telling me these things I
would have kicked her to the curb. Cheating slut that she would be,
but Melanie, she was damaged to begin with, she was young and she was
all screwed up.

"You gave me everything and never asked anything from me," she
continued. "I tried to give you my love, and then I tried to give you
my body, but you would not take the only thing I had to give. When you
refused to hurt me, in that state of mind I was in, it was like you
refused me, you refused my only gift to you. It hurt me, and I thought
that you didn't love me."

"I had nothing to base my experience with you. I didn't know what love
was. My Aunt and cousins never showed me love. The man I went with
showed me something different. At first I thought it was love, but
soon I knew it wasn't. I didn't know. Once I experienced it, I knew
what I walked out on, but I had to experience it. I needed to feel it
and know the difference."

I got up. She stood with me. "What now? Why are you back here?" I
asked.

She looked deep into my eyes. "You once told me that I was always
welcome here. Is that still true?"

I hesitated. "I don't know, Mel. This is a lot to think about."

She broke down in tears. "I love you, Brandon, I always have. I just
never knew how special it was. I want to stay with you, if you'll have
me."

I muttered something about thinking about it and excused myself to
take a walk.
I walked down to the local park and sat at one of the benches and
watched the ducks in the pond. What she told me hurt. It hurt like
hell. She had gone with someone else. Cheated on me? Well, sort of.
She left me for someone else is more like it.

The words from the therapist came back to me. I needed to figure out
what I wanted from this relationship? Had it run its course? Did I
still love her? Could I live with her and what she had done? In some
ways her leaving was a blessing. I was able to start to reestablish my
life, but it was so empty and lonely. I had invested so much into her
that throwing it all away now seemed like a waste. Years of my life
down the drain.

What now? How would our relationship be from this point on? If she
wanted a beating or bondage, could I do it? Was I angry enough at her
to hurt her? Should I be angry at her?

I wondered back to the house and Melanie was waiting quietly at the
kitchen table.
"I wasn't sure when you would be back, otherwise I would have made
some dinner."

I sat down. "Mel, what do you want with me?"

 "Brandon, I want to be yours. I want to love and cherish you. I want
to give myself to you and only you. I understand how lucky I am to
have you. I hope that you can get over what I did. I needed to get
that out of my system. I would have always wondered."

"Mel, we never settled our relationship. We loved each other and we
had sex, but it was never exclusive, because quite frankly I never
thought that you would have met someone else. I'm worried that I will
not be able to give you what you need."

Mel grabbed a hold of my hands her soft hands had become hardened
since she had left me.

 "I would like to work it out. I know that I love you and never
stopped loving you. I thought you rejected me but I can see now that
you didn't, you couldn't give me something I craved. I don't crave
that anymore."

"You don't want it anymore?" I asked.

"I want things, but I don't want you to hurt me. I want to give you
control, I want to give myself to you. I think you will enjoy it. I
don't have anything else, but I want to give you me."

"Mel, I'm not interested in that. I want you and me to be partners.
Both equal."

Melanie got up and pulled me up to her, She placed me in a dancing
stance and then urged me to waltz with her. As we waltzed around the
kitchen with silent music playing in our heads, she asked me what I
was doing.

"Dancing," I said densely.

She smiled.

 "We're dancing, but what are you doing?"

I blinked dumbly.

 "You are leading, and I am following."

 "Oh," I said.

 "It's like dancing, one person leads and the other allows that person
to lead them. You have always been my leader. I want to follow you
forever. I give myself to you. Take me. I will tell you when you are
doing too much. I always reserve that right to tell you."

I paused a moment, "I would never have it any other way," I said as I
kissed her. She kissed me back and we headed up stairs to my bedroom,
our bedroom. I undressed her and she lay out on the bed ready for me
to take her. I kissed her again then explored her soft body. I had
missed that body and I lavished love and praise all over it. Her pussy
was wet for me and I was hard for her.

As I thrust into her, she smiled and whispered, "Take me, take what
will always be yours."

And I took her. We stayed together after that. I went back to work and
Melanie was able to secure a part-time job at the local grocery store.
She received odd looks on occasion but her six months of freedom had
strengthened her. She was able to face the real world now on her own.
A part of me was proud of her, she had come a long way since that day
in the basement, but another part of me was sad that she had to do
that final step alone, despite me. How much had I really helped her?
She tells me everyday that she is the luckiest person in the world.

I have to keep reminding myself that she is, despite everything that
happened to her. She is pregnant now with my child, and we are
planning our wedding. Maybe we both are getting a second chance in
life.

The End

PS. Some have pointed out that she can't go cold turkey like that and
sooner or later she will crave that abuse. I tried to tack on an
ending dealing with that but it just didn't flow. Just like she had to
give something up for him, he does as well. I envision that he does
indulge her with some bondage and rough sex on occassions, but that
over time that need/hunger of hers has lessened.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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