HORROR SHORT STORY: Pregnant...a father impregnates his daughter...
It was the middle of the night but Sophia had been unable to sleep and was staring out the window, begging for the moon to set and end this restless anxiety in her chest. The glass of the window fogged against her delicate breath and she contemplated as deeply as a small child might, struggling to understand the pain radiating through her bones. She harbored nothing from her life other than the bruises inside her thighs and her torn hymen, still oozing blood intermittently even now. Her youthful, soft features were contrasted against the dazed lull of detachment that marred her expression. Her lips were curled down in a permanent state of pain that she could not show behind wooden smiles and false masks to hide the horror that was her life. Sophia mused within her imagination and wondered what a life without constant suffering might entail. Would she have loving parents? Would she enjoy the feeling of grass beneath her palms? Would the thick flesh of her scars fade? She often felt that when she was outside, she would step into line with all the other children her age and imagine that she was one of them, one of the normals. But the facade was weak and disappeared before she could spend any time in the fantasy. Sophia fogged the window with a deep exhale and drew a small heart before wiping it away with great sadness. Suddenly, the front door burst open and someone came blustering inside like a furious tempest with a loud slam behind them. Sophia knew instantly that it was her father. She jumped out of bed and ran into her closet, tying the doors shut with a bent wire hanger. Hiding under a blanket, Sophia silently begged for her father to not come to her room. To her great dread, she could hear his heavy footsteps lumbering upwards and could tell by his steps that he had been drinking again. The door to her room suddenly burst open and he entered the darkness, stumbling against her dresser and cursing loudly before calling out for her. Sophia could hear him tearing up her room searching for her, drunkenly making a mess again. Against her will, Sophia began to tremble with fear as tears welled in her eyes. After he had raged through the entire room he finally settled on the closet and blinked with bleary eyes as he computed this was the last place she could possibly be. He pulled on the doors but it was locked firmly shut by Sophia’s quick thinking. But, it would not be enough to protect her. Her father raged against the doors before tearing one off with sheer force, enough to break the hinges. Sophia sat, huddled in the corner, staring at him with wide eyes of naked terror and unable to speak a single word. With a strong hand, her father pulled her out and threw her onto the bed. Sophia tried to scramble away but he gripped her ankle and she suddenly found no will within her to resist, she knew exactly what he was about to do. Her father fumbled at his belt, cursing again at the struggle as his drunken state kept him in a state of disarray. Sophia laid there, immobile and wishing she were anywhere, wishing she was dead, wishing for the pain to end. Her father dropped his pants and underwear, standing there with an erection that stared at Sophia like a grotesque snake that dripped with venom and fangs. Pinning her down with his hands and knees, he pushed her legs apart with enough force to make her wince with pain. With one swift movement, he entered her and tore her flesh apart. With each thrust, he stole a bit of her childhood, of her will to live. With each thrust, he defiled the sacred bond between father and daughter, committing the gravest desecration to the altar of a child’s innocence. With each thrust, Sophia felt her head bumping against the headrest with the beat of his hips and felt his beer-stenched breath running ragged against her tremulous face. He finally grunted loudly and ejaculated into his daughter. Feeling satiated, her father left her in her room to lay there, motionless and counting her breaths until they returned to steady. This had been the third time this week, they were growing more and more frequent and Sophia was completely lost from herself. Sophia contemplated escape, some kind of salvation that might spare her from the abuse her father defiled her with. But she had no other family except for her drunkard of a mother. Her mother was of no use to anyone and existed at home with a constant bottle of vodka and coca cola in her muffled world. It had been weeks since Sophia had even spoken to her, save for a few slurred sentences that Sophia could not understand. Instead, Sophia turned over on her bed, her insides still throbbing, and softly wept until her tears carried her into the safe embrace of sleep. The next morning Sophia awoke groggily, it had taken her quite some time to fall asleep and she was still quite sleepy. Sophia went downstairs, passed her mother snoring on the couch, and made herself a breakfast of cereal. Her father had already left for work and Sophia walked to the school bus on her own. She sat in the first row, alone and staring out the window as the other children clamored behind her. When she arrived at school, she walked through the walls like a ghost, detached, floating in obscurity and unseen. As she sat in first period, she began to feel blood trickling down her inner thigh and regarded it absently until her teacher noticed. Sophia walked to the nurse’s office without emotion. She accepted that she would be sent to the hospital. She accepted that her father was called from work. She sat in the hospital room with a doctor and her father. After a few tests, the doctor returned and declared that Sophia was pregnant at twelve years old. Sophia’s gut dropped out from within her and a frigid sense of mortification that nearly stopped her breathing. Unable to make eye contact with her father, Sophia could only catch a glimpse of his expression and felt her heart immediately quickening and her skin prickled with cold sweat. He was grinning from ear to ear like a gleeful child, his eyes sharp and his cheeks strained in a monstrous display of pleasure. Sophia looked at the doctor, begging for her to notice his disgusting expression but her father quickly masked himself and had successfully charmed the doctor. A part of her wanted to tell the doctor the truth, to say that her father had raped her and she was now carrying his unborn monster child. But she was frozen in fear of speaking against her father who controlled her so completely. And she also felt that the doctor would not believe her and she would be sent home to cruelty from an angered father. Caught by indecision, the appointment ended and Sophia went home with her abusive father, hating herself for her inaction. The following months had sent Sophia into an abject depression. Her father had pulled her from school and she now spent all her time in her prison of a home. Mostly she stayed in her room, frozen in a chrysalis in which her body changed against her desperate wishes. Day in and day out, Sophia laid on her bed, staring out her window that overlooked the street of her suburban neighborhood. No one knew the horrors that rampaged within these walls: rape, incest, alcoholism, abuse. Sophia found herself confronting a myriad of emotions that she loathed. Oftentimes, Sophia was reduced to a miserly puddle of self-loathing and self-dissolution. As time went on, Sophia’s stomach began to grow. Her sense of time was completely gone as she stayed in her room day in and day out. Her only solace was that her father had stopped assaulting her after she had gotten pregnant. Her mother was too inebriated every day to understand what was happening around her. She interacted very little with Sophia or her husband, nursing from a bottle of vodka constantly. Much of her time was spent laying on the couch and watching trash reality TV, anything to escape her own emotions. At times, her mother would become whipped up with fury and resentment. These moments were terrible for Sophia. Her mother would throw things at Sophia and scream obscenities at her, choosing the worst words that would cut the deepest. Sophia never understood this animosity that her mother harbored for her and tried to not ponder on the answers, there weren’t any good ones anyhow. Sophia tried her best to avoid her. Feeling empty and numb, Sophia spent a good amount of her time sitting by the window and watching life streaming past her view. Cars drove by, children roller skated, people unloaded groceries for their families, random landscapers that visited homes on different days. There were welcome sounds just beyond the pane of her window’s glass. Sophia often wondered why she didn’t just run downstairs, unlock the door, and beg someone to save her from her parents. Despite her fervent wishes to escape her life, she could not muster the courage to venture outdoors. Part of her feared approaching strangers, but more importantly, a part of her was terrified of being doubted and being sent back to her furious parents, the black shades that imposed upon her tremors and sinking guts. Being struck by her mother, being cursed by her mother, being raped by her father, his tongue upon her skin, the sweat dripping upon her, his black unblinking and watching eyes - it all reminded her why she wished she could just shrivel inside of her and die like a dessicated insect in a forgotten attic. And now she was infested with a monstrous life that he had inseminated into her. It horrified her to no end to feel the creature growing within her. Sophia tried to detach from herself, to void any emotions and instead becoming colder and colder to her inner self - anything to escape her world. As time rolled onwards, Sophia was becoming more and more disgusted with the changes her body was undergoing. Her mid-section was beginning to balloon outwards as the monster inside her continued to feed off her blood and flesh. Weeks blurred into months. Sophia had begun to undergo debilitating anxiety and panic. Sophia stared at herself in her full length mirror and observed with detachment at the physical changes she had begun to undergo. She resisted the urge to pound her stomach with her bare fists, afraid of what kind of repercussions would follow. She heard the door opening behind her and was met by her father, imposing and silent. The salacious look in his eyes, which she hadn’t seen after becoming pregnant, terrified her. Sophia could not bring herself to speak, her frail child’s mind whirling with mortification that a child her age was never meant to experience. Without a word, he dropped his pants and began to massage a growing erection. Sophia faltered, falling against the wall and beginning to cry in agony, wanting to beg him not to but knowing that would only result in a fist across her delicate face. Great shame and embarrassment turned her soft cheeks bright red as she tried to disappear into the wall. Without a word, as always, he grabbed her hair, shoved her face forward into the carpet, and raped her from behind. When he had finished his grunting and moans, he ejaculated inside her once more. Satiated for now, he left the room as Sophia laid there, still oozing and aching down there. Slowly, a long scream began to build within her. It began as a plaintive sighing, a crack allowing pressure to begin to release. It grew and grew, until the crack began to fracture and form a growing opening. Rage filled her small body, giving her trembling shivers that vibrated her very bones. But Sophia could not act upon her fury, it was ingrained in her to not show emotion and she found it impossible to confront her own feelings. Instead, she hit her head on the floor. And then once more, and then once more, growing in fervor and strength until her head was ringing. Eventually, Sophia tired herself out, wiped at the bruise on her forehead, crawled to the closet, shut the door, and fell asleep. Time began to move like heavy molasses, taking an interminable amount of effort to move forward but at the same time flowing without stop. Mostly, Sophia tracked time by certain milestones of a pregnancy. The day it kicked, the day it groped along the membrane of flesh that encapsulated it, the day she grew as swollen and large as her body would allow. The thought of this demon spawn infesting her insides made her cringe with revulsion and everyday she resisted the urge to kill herself and this sick, craven creature leeching off her blood and flesh. If only she could find release in death, but she could not muster the will to act upon any of these desires. Sophia was growing numb, over-saturated by horror, seeking relief through oblivion. Her child’s mind could scarcely comprehend what was happening to her and could only soothe herself by counting the stars at night from her small window. The demon seed within her had a life and consciousness of its own and Sophia’s fragile child’s mind could scarcely comprehend what was happening to her. One night, Sophia could not tell when now that the days blurred into each other, she lay in her bed, feeling the demon’s seed tumbling and exploring within her guts. Moonlight slanted through the windows and she was bathed in glow. Sophia tried to feel comforted by the light but found it impossible. Nothing could change the way she felt inside, that chasm of suffering, that distant wailing of loss and despair, that unending sensation of pain, breaking bones and devouring flesh. What was her life? Was this prison all she would know? Sophia hated herself for being unable to change the details of her life. She was powerless and so small, so young, what could she do? Suddenly, Sophia broke. Perhaps it was her thoughts, but moreso, the top of a pressurized vat was now blown open, sending out a rush of hot air. She thrashed in bed wildly, in a near convulsive state of chaos that now reigned control over her. Sophia buried her face into her pillow and began to shriek over and over again, the muffled sound barely reaching the bedroom door. “Why?! Why?! Why?! Somebody save me! Somebody help me, please! Somebody just kill me! I can’t take it, I just can’t take it,” Sophia screamed in blind agony and grief for her childhood. Sophia grabbed a clump of hair and yanked hard, pulling until she could feel the roots detaching. With another motion, Sophia ripped out her hair over and over until patches were all over her head, some areas oozing blood. The pain was a brief escape and an expression of her fury, an emotion she had rarely allowed within her. Her entire life was a journey of constantly repressing all her emotions out of survival, only by being numb could she survive her family. But, now, Sophia had finally splintered and she was now experiencing the act of fracturing. She jumped out of bed, wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, and grabbed a pair of scissors. With shaking hands, she gripped it with both hands, pointing the sharp point against her swollen abdomen. More tears began to run down her face now contorted in agony. She began to push the scissors into her skin, beginning to feel pain that she barely registered. Suddenly, she could hear a voice in the room. “Mommy? Don’t hurt me, please…” it whispered, ringing in her head. Sophia froze in shock, feeling her sanity slowly slipping away from her. She stared at her belly and realized she could hear its voice. Immediately repulsed, Sophia trembled with fear. “Don’t you love me?...Don’t you love me, Mommy…” the voice said within her mind. Sophia shook her head violently, as if she could cast the voice from herself, and pounded her skull with both hands. “Get out of me! I don’t want you! I wish you were dead!” Sophia screamed out loud. “What the fuck was that?!” her father screamed from somewhere else in the house. Then, soon after, she heard footsteps bull-rushing to her door and her father burst in. He looked at Sophia, saw the scissors pointed at her stomach and immediately recognized what she was attempting. Blind rage lit up in his eyes and he charged her. Sophia dropped the scissors and crawled to a wall, weeping and begging for her father to spare her. With glowering eyes, he began to unbuckle his pants, and Sophia shook with fear. She couldn’t even bring herself to say a single word. He swayed a bit and she could see that he was blind drunk, yet again. Sophia sprang from her position and tried to crawl under the bed but her father was still swift and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her out from underneath. He grabbed her by the throat and slapped her across the face. “You’re mine…You’re all mine…” he muttered under his breath. Her father flipped her onto her back, lifted her hips, and thrust his member into her. Sophia spasmed but he shoved her head into the carpet, making it difficult for her to breath. He moved in and out of her, his heavy breath exuded a miasma of alcohol and depravity. Sophia could not stop crying, the pain down there was excruciating. With one motion, he leaned down and lay flat against her. She could feel the paunch of his beer belly on her back. “Oh yeah…you feel so good…fucking bitch…you like that don’t you?” he said with bleary eyes and a slurred tongue. Sophia begged for just a modicum of courage to fight back but she was unable to. He was her father. He was the paternal authority in her entire life and she could not admit to herself that she still wanted her parents’ love. By god, she hated herself for that. Feeling like a fleshy doll, Sophia decided to abandon herself and submit. She began to observe herself, as if she were floating on the ceiling, completely detaching herself from her body. Numbness. That is what she sought. After a few interminable minutes, he ejaculated in her once more and removed himself from her. Sophia lay on the floor, limp and unmoving, barely registering the throbbing sensation of pain in her nether regions. He stumbled, drunkenly, out of the room and Sophia crawled to the closet, laid on her blankets, and cried herself to sleep. Weeks passed and Sophia was descending into a worse and worse state. Her father had become clingy, wanting to be a part of her pregnancy, finding interest in her growing abdomen. He would often return to work, bustle around the house doing random chores, and then climb the stairs towards her room. The sound of his footsteps always struck her with a queasy feeling that made her cringe in fear. Now that Sophia was nearing birth, he had stopped raping her and instead cuddled her in bed, spooning her from behind and trapping her with his arms and legs. Often, she would feel his member engorging with blood and pressing against her back, filling her with revulsion. With her child’s mind, she struggled to understand this perversion towards his prepubescent daughter and could come up with no answers. A month or two passed and it was time for the baby to be born. Sophia had been staring out her bedroom window when a terrible cramping sensation began in her, worse than ever before and Sophia numbly observed the pain. By this point, Sophia’s sanity had begun to erode, leaving her just dust grinded by stones, carried in a breeze, dissipating into nothing. With a scream, Sophia fell to her hands and knees and struggled to withstand the contractions that began within her. Her father, having just heard her, charged up the stairs and burst into her room. He recognized it was time to give birth and a wide grin stretched his lips, straining his cheeks, revealing the very demon that existed in his twisted reality. Without interacting, instead, watching her from the doorway, observing in a way that gave him great pleasure. Sophia felt herself being ripped open at an agonizingly slow pace and she could not resist the screams that came from her, a foreign sound that she was shocked by. Blood poured out, dripping onto the floor and escaping in thick spurts that splattered across the carpet. Like a barnyard animal, she bleated out a sound of suffering and felt the infant being expelled from her. It fell onto the floor with a heavy thud and Sophia collapsed forward, panting and sobbing with agony. She looked over at the infant, wet and screaming. Its face was deranged, a smushed in nose, a hare lip, a deformed cranium and crooked eyes that wiggled around, registering its new environment. With disgust, Sophia shrieked and tried to stomp the life out of its fetid visage. Her father ran forward and kicked Sophia into the wall and lovingly scooped up the deranged creature which was now cooing in his presence, some kind of biological imperative to love one’s father. Sophia’s sanity began to slip away as she passed out. Sophia sat on the bed, nursing the creature that her father had inseminated her with. How long had it been since the birth? Sophia could not remember. Since the birth, she had become nearly catatonic, finally surrendering to dissolution in order to preserve the last shred of sanity she had left. Her entire life had become taking care of this infant that she loathed with furious disgust. But her father still held complete control over her and she could not find a way to escape her situation and so resigned herself to her fate. Often, Sophia thought about killing herself but her child’s mind could not muster the strength or will to act on these thoughts. Absently, she looked down at the creature suckling from her breast, greedily kneading her nipple with its gumless teeth and pulling at her flesh. It repulsed her but Sophia was far too numb to register the feeling. The infant looked up at her and smiled, Sophia resisted the urge to scream and attack the creature. In that smile, she could see all of her father’s abyssal depravity, his sick pleasure of his flesh in hers, the malignant condition of a sadistic beast. And yet, a strong maternal instinct within her commanded her to become its true mother, a biological imperative that had survived through all the abuse. Sophia hated this thing that had wriggled in her for nine months. But she was scared to kill and struggled, vacillating between the two poles of duty and homicidal intent. And, thus, Sophia’s life began to continue on. Five years later, Sophia had given birth to four more children. By this point, her father had imprisoned her in the basement with all the creatures she had birthed. He had installed a thick chain bolted to the wall and attached to one ankle, making escape impossible. Sophia sat on a chair, nursing the youngest, watching four toddlers running around in the confines of the concrete walls that held Sophia captive. Each of them, born out of incest, were severely deformed. One’s jaw did not work correctly, leaving its mouth ajar and dangling in a disgusting way. Another’s tongue was far too big and hung out of its face, drooling and wriggling. A different child was both blind and deaf, barely interacting and rocking back and forth. Each one of their minds were severely addled and it was difficult to communicate with any of them. And so, they bustled around the basement with the play of mutant animals. They often clinged to Sophia, their mother, and it drove Sophia to the brink of insanity. They were not her children. They were her father’s children, she had merely been a flesh receptacle for his seed. When her father came down, every day, to the basement, the creatures became riled up with excitement and rushed to him. They would jump, giggle, run around, and purr with pleasure when he held them up. The sight would always disgust her and she would sit far away, as far as the chain would allow, absently observing. In this way, Sophia’s demented life continued until one day, it didn’t. She was pushed to the brink and now gave her mind entirely to insanity. On this day, Sophia was nursing and suddenly stood up, letting the infant drop to the floor as it began to wail with a sound that broke her. One toddler, spinning in a circle and laughing, became her first target. She charged it with a howl of fury and grabbed it by the neck, holding it upwards as it squirmed in her grip. Sophia shook the infant while she screamed. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, motherfucker!” she bleated out with an animal’s croak. Eventually, it stopped moving and Sophia hurled it into the wall, enjoying the thud and hoping it was dead. The others, with their addled minds, barely seemed to notice. Sophia leaped forward and grabbed another. It squirmed in her hands but she suddenly dug her teeth into its soft neck. With one swift motion, she tore its carotid artery open and a stream of blood exploded out of its wound, drenching Sophia with a baptismal warmth. Sophia began to laugh and the others squealed, running around in circles like a ring of circus freaks. She snatched up another and smashed its head into the concrete floor. Then once more. And then again and again until its soft skull had collapsed into itself. She looked at the bloody face, the blood pooling beneath it, the exposed bits of brain from its open wound. The two remaining children began to scream, filling Sophia with such rancor that she could not believe. With a roar, she grabbed them both and then threw them into the wall. They splattered against it but were not dead. She raised a foot and stomped on them both, over and over until they were but a mess across the floor. They were dead but Sophia felt no relief. In fact, she had descended into such depths of despair that she was now convinced her life was inherently useless and that she must end it. Sophia steadily climbed on a chair, crawled over the beams in the ceiling, wrapped the chain around her neck and jumped off. She dangled there, hissing and swinging, until finally she perished. And thus, a saga of the perverse and the corrupt met its simultaneous end.