Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 12:43:15 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jenny Chapter 3 - Lesbian/Young Friends

Jenny By Tom Cup
Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive,
Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
************************************************************************
This story is part of the Girlztown Library at http://www.girlztown.net

If you enjoy this story and would like to see it continue here on Nifty,
please send me a note at tom_cup@hotmail.com

Your comments are truly appreciated.

************************************************************************

Jenny
By Tom Cup
Chapter Three
Disobedience


Mom was waiting at the door as the car pulled up.  I told Tina that it would
be OK. We both knew I was lying. Tina insisted on walking me to the door.  I
knew she thought that if she showed Mom her face and apologized that things
would go easier on me. I had no such illusions. I tried to put distance
between Tina and myself as I hurried up the walk toward the door. Tina
hurried behind me. I heard her yelling, "Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Davis, Please it
really was my fault," as I crossed the threshold. Mom closed the door in her
face. Tina knocked a few times pleading with Mom to talk to her. I stood in
the middle of the living room, my head bent low, tears falling freely from
my eyes and striking the carpeted floor, waiting for the sound of Tina's car
to drive away and the punishment to begin.

Mom lit a cigarette and calmly poured a drink. I was terrified. The calmer
she was before she started the worse it would be for me, I knew that. It
hurt that she didn't appear angry. She smoked her cigarette and finished the
drink as I stood trembling, my insides shaking, my bladder releasing small
amounts of urine. I can't remember how long I stood there. All I know is
that I had to use the bathroom. I couldn't hold it any longer.

"Mommy," I whispered, "Can I go to the bathroom, please."

"What did you say?" She asked fiercely turning toward me.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Please Mommy."

"No. You can stand right there and keep your fucking mouth closed until I
tell you otherwise."

"Please Mommy, I have to go!"

Mom struck me then. The blow hit me hard on the side of my face. I turned
away. She hit me again and again, screaming and accenting her statements
with the beating she was giving me.

"You think you're grown, you little bitch? You do what the fuck I tell you
too. Who the fuck do you think you are? I'll beat the shit out of you!"

And on and on it went. In the end, I was beat four times consecutively. Once
for "lying" about Tina calling Mom, once for getting Tina to lie for me,
once for not doing as Mom told me when I was suppose to remain quiet and
once for wetting myself. The beating was horrible but the humiliation that I
would face when I saw Sara Monday morning at school kept the tears in my
eyes; as on my hands and knees, through the night, I scrubbed and rescrubbed
the living room floor as Mom threatened to beat me again if she caught me
crying.

*****

"What happened?" Sara asked.

I hurried away from her. I didn't want to talk to her because I didn't want
to lie to her. Mom made it clear that if anyone found out the truth that she
would beat me to death. I believed her. I know people think, "Oh if someone
is being abused that bad they'll tell." Well, it's not true. People think
the world is such a big place that anyone can get help. Well, I had proof
that Mom would beat the shit out of me. I was reminded of that fact
frequently. There was no proof that anyone would come running to the rescue.
In my mind I could see the school counselor sitting down with Mom and me and
saying, "Jennifer says you've been abusing her." Mom would feign a smile,
look at me and lovingly stroke my hair while telling the woman, "You know
how girls this age are, always trying to sneak out to be with the boys. Yes,
I am strict with Jennifer but abusive? My Lord, No. When you have to be both
mother and father to a girl Jennifer's age you have to be tougher on her
than a girl that has both parents at home. I'm sure you understand." I would
be sent home. The counselor would never believe another word I said after
that and Mom would punish me unmercifully. I knew. That's what happened in
third grade. So I had no reason to trust that help was just around the
corner and every reason to do what Mom said.

"I can't talk to you."

"Why?"

"My Mom says."

Sara laughed. "What she got spies at school? Get real. Now tell me what
happened." She examined my face. The bruise wasn't hard to see. "She do this
to you?" she asked already knowing the answer.

"No I fell," I answered.

"Before or after she hit you."

"Please Sara, it'll only make it worse."

"How can it get worse? She beats the shit out of you whether you do anything
wrong or not. Everybody thinks you're a klutz. You're always banged up
one-way or another. `I fell, I slipped, I tripped.' Give me fucking brake.
I've never seen you fall, slip or trip over anything."

I stared at her.  Mom said to break it off. I was never to see or speak to
Sara again. Even as I swore I would obey, part of me knew I wouldn't. Sara
knew it too. I could see it in her eyes. She ushered me out of the corridor
and into the bathroom. As soon as she closed the door to one of the stalls
and turned to face me, I broke and began crying uncontrollable. Sara held
me, kissing my cheek, and telling me it would be all right. I told her why
it wouldn't. I told her of the horror I was living and Sara Johnson told me
to trust her that it really would be all right. She adjusted my make up so
the bruise wasn't so noticeable; told me I had to look people in the eye if
I didn't want them to think something was wrong, and to remember that we
were friends. I nodded. She lifted my chin, looked me in the eyes and asked
me if I really understood.

"Yes," I whispered. She smiled, still staring in my eyes, and kissed me.

We missed half of first period. We walked in together. I don't know what
Sara told the teacher. It didn't matter to me. I followed her down the row
of desks. She usually sat in the third row next to the window. I sat in the
last row and in the middle. As we got to the third row she stop. She nodded
to Holly. Holly gathered her books and moved to another seat. I didn't know
how she managed that but that's how I wound up sitting next to Sara for
first period class.

*****

I cleaned house when I got home, made dinner and did the laundry. After I
got beat like I did over the weekend I usually was safe from another
beating, at least until the bruises went away, but Mom hovered about me
waiting for me to do something that she could pinch my side or curse me
about. She kept asking if I talked to that slut Sara at school. I replied,
"No ma'am. You told me not too, Mommy." She lectured me about what a bad
influence girls like Sara could be. She told me "if it weren't for that
little bitch I wouldn't have had to punish my baby. Now would I?"

"No Mommy." I replied.

"So you stay away from the little whore. OK?"

"Yes, Mommy. I will. I'll be good Mommy. I promise."

Something changed in me that day. I don't know if it was good or bad. Up
until that point I think I believed Mom. I mean, I didn't like the beatings
but had convinced myself that Mom was right to beat me. I wish I knew the
exact moment that it happened but I don't. I just remember thinking she was
the liar, not me. I remember that from then on I hated my mother. I hated
her and didn't feel bad about it. I would do everything she told me. I would
say all the things I knew she wanted to hear but I would never love her
again. We cuddled that night and watched a movie together. She rubbed my
back and arms asking me if I was OK. Even though I was still in pain I told
her I was all right. She smiled, held me closer, and said, "That's my girl."
She said I was a liar so from then on I told her as many lies as I could get
away with.

That night I lay awake deliberately touching myself with one hand while
running my fingers over my lips, remembering Sara's kiss, with the other. I
discovered that I could slip away to another world with my girlfriend, far
away from Mom and all the harsh realities of my life. I could love and be
loved as the confines of my room slipped away, as memory and fantasy merged,
and my body responded to my gentle play; encouraging me to love myself.

*****

"I want you to come over again," Sara said a few weeks later.

"You know I can't do that. Mom would have a cow if I even asked."

"So don't ask."

"Sara!"

"Jenny!"

We stood smirking at each other, hands on our hips, until we burst into
laughter. She hugged me and whispered, "Please. I want to be alone with
you."  I knew what she meant. We snuck hugs and kisses in the bathroom at
school but it was nothing like what almost happened at her house. Life at
home had been stable for those few weeks but that didn't mean that things
couldn't good bad in a hurry. Even so, I was willing to take the chance to
be with Sara. So we tried to figure out how to get me out of the house so we
could meet.  Sara said that Tina would gladly pick me up somewhere if I
could get away. So I decided that Friday night, after Mom slipped into her
alcohol-induced coma, I would sneak out my bedroom window and call Sara from
the payphone at the 7-11. I was trembling but not out of fear. There was a
surreal pleasure in deliberately doing something against Mom's wishes. I had
been punished so many times for things that I didn't do, or for things that
other parents would have let slide, that doing something worthy of
punishment seemed only fair. If I got caught it wouldn't matter. I'd gladly
take the beating knowing that I had finally done what I wanted. Mom wouldn't
be able to take the time I had away. It seems crazy now but I was determined
to disobey her. I was determined to be that bad girl she always accused me
of being. In a strange way Mom forced me to become a disobedient daughter.
It may seem cold of me to say but in the end Mom got what she deserved.

***********************************************************************
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