Nathan Tompkins' mansion, Lloyd Harbor, NY November 21, 1999 11:19 pm

The sound of the door closing felt so much like a death knell to her. In one sense, it meant relief that this latest visit to her room was over. In another, though, it meant only a break for much too short a time before he would be back yet again. Which was something she knew was inevitable; of that, she could be certain. His nocturnal visits had become as regular as clockwork. At least two, more often three, times a week, he'd be here for more of what he chose to call 'education'.

When he'd first come in, she'd begged, cried, pleaded, for him not to do what she knew he'd come to do, but all her words had fallen on deaf ears, all her tears had meant nothing to him. Her feelings never did. He only went on and on about how she would 'get used to it' eventually, how she would even come to enjoy what he did. It was crystal clear he enjoyed it, and didn't care in the least how she felt about it, Donna thought bitterly. If she complained, he only accused her of being childish and immature; he'd say she needed to grow up, that this was something women normally did. The only thing she could have said about that--though like so many other opinions she had about his ways, she didn't dare voice it-was that if getting used to being raped was part of growing up, then she'd prefer to stay a child. Unfortunately that wasn't possible; "Peter Pan" was only a story.

What he did to her on each of these nocturnal visits hurt just as much as it had that first time--not just physically, but emotionally as well. It didn't matter how many times Tompkins told her she'd get used to it, she never did, and knew she never would. She didn't want to 'get used' to it. She'd never even had a date, back in Illinois. She'd only been thirteen then, after all. Now, however, she'd unwillingly learned more about sex than she'd ever imagined wanting to. It simply hadn't been something she'd yet thought about back home. Now she was little better than some medieval concubine in Tompkins' harem. The two other women she knew he was involved with weren't enough for him, apparently; he had to have her, too. Not only that, but she had her suspicions about what he was doing with some of the other women servants; they didn't dare refuse him, any more than she did. She'd seen far too many times the leering way he looked at some of them.

She remembered, only too well, how it had felt to have the weight of his body on top of hers, and of him inside her, his hands touching her in all her most secret places.

This couldn't be the way life was 'supposed' to be, she thought bleakly. It just couldn't be. She couldn't accept that bringing suffering and misery was natural, or that deliberately causing pain was at all enjoyable. No matter how many times he told her she would come to like what he did to her, that it was natural for women to do these things, she didn't agree with that and knew she never would. She'd never felt anything other than sick afterward. She'd gone into the bathroom after he'd left and scrubbed so hard her skin had turned red, yet it didn't make her feel clean again. She wasn't sure anything ever would. If this was what women did, she was certain she wanted no part of it.

The worst part about it all, was that this was her birthday. She was fourteen today.

That'd been the reason why he'd called what he'd done to her tonight a 'present'. Yeah, right. Some present that was, to be raped on your birthday, she thought bitterly. Oh, it wasn't the first time he'd done that, but somehow tonight's being her birthday made her feel worse about this than she usually did.

She flung herself onto the sofa, desperate to lie down somewhere, \par However, she just couldn't make herself go back to that bed, not right now. Pressing her hands to her eyes, she tried to keep from crying. If she sobbed too loudly, one of the servants might overhear. They'd go running to Tompkins; when he found out, there'd be hell to pay. He'd be 'displeased' to find her still crying like a baby, she knew that only too well. Though she wasn't sure what could be worse than what had already happened here, she didn't want to find out.

It had only been a year since her last birthday, but it felt like so much longer. She might only be fourteen, but sometimes she felt forty, or how she imagined that must feel. Old, worn out, used up before her time. How had everything gone so terribly wrong so fast? She'd asked herself that question so many times, without ever finding an answer. She wasn't sure there even was one.

She'd been so happy, then--she hadn't even thought about her life. She'd simply taken it for granted that this was the way things were and would always be. There hadn't been any reason to think otherwise, back then.

One year ago she'd been living with her mother, living an ordinary life. One year ago the most important thing she had to worry about was her schoolwork.

Now, all of that was gone. Her mother, all her old friends, even her old home back in Illinois. Sometimes that life seemed so far away that it was almost as if it had been someone else's and not her own. There'd been an innocence in it, she realized, and that innocence was gone now, ripped away by the events of the past year.

Even this place was wrong, she thought. Houses like this one she was in now had only been something she'd seen pictures of, before last August. She knew now that the pictures were all lies. Pretty on the inside, ugly on the inside. That was much how Donna felt about herself these days. On the outside, she was sure she looked just as she always had; but something, somewhere deep inside her, was contaminated, tainted. She scarcely felt human any more, and with each new visit by Tompkins she felt like she was becoming more and more of an object, a thing that existed only for his use. That, of course, was exactly the way he saw her; she'd come to learn that the hard way.

What made it worse was that she knew the exact reason she was here. in Tompkins' custody, today. It wasn't just because of what'd happened with her mother, though of course that had been part of it. The real reason was she herself, what she carried within her. This damned magic--it was a curse, that's what it was.

If it hadn't been for the magic inside her, her life wouldn't be spinning downwards into a cesspit like it was now. She wished that she could think of some way to turn back time, to get back to the way things used to be, or that there was something, anything, else she could do to escape this nightmare. Oh, if only she could go back to being that innocent thirteen year old that she'd once been. That, though, was a desire that only hurt her all the more because she knew she couldn't go back. There wasn't anything left for her to go back to, she thought miserably. The apartment had probably been rented to someone else by now, and their things were all in storage, packed away in a warehouse somewhere. She thought bleakly that all her old friends back in Illinois had more than likely forgotten about her by now, since Tompkins had refused to allow her to keep in touch with any of them.

She pressed her hands to her eyes again, still fighting desperately to hold back the tears.

One year ago today, had been her thirteenth birthday. She still asked herself how her life could have changed so much in only a year. Talk about life going to hell in a handbasket in a major way, she thought bitterly. She still wished she'd seen it coming; though if she had, she didn't know how she could've stopped it.

Her mind began drifting back to the memory of her last birthday, one of the last really good days before things had begun to change, and not for the better.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Shelley apartment, Golconda, IL November 21, 1998 8:00 am

"Happy birthday to you..." the sing-song came through, awakening her. With it had come the enticing smells of breakfast.

"What...?" Donna stirred, blinked, then sat up.

Beside her bed stood her mother, carrying a tray loaded with eggs, toast, bacon--and was that a large glass of orange juice? Donna rubbed sleep from her eyes as she looked at the offerings, which were all her favorites for breakfast.

"Mom!" Donna had said, with a smile to take the edge off. "You didn't have to do that."

Kendra shook her head. "You're only thirteen once. I wanted to start today off special." She placed the tray on the bedside table, then pulled a chair over and sat down. "I didn't have anyone to do special things for me when I was your age, you know."

Donna nodded. "I know, you were an orphan. You've told me." She touched her mother's hand. Then, moving carefully, so as not to jostle the table, she got up and gave her mother a hug. "It's just that I wasn't expecting you to be up this early. I know you weren't home yet when I went to bed last night, so I figured you'd be sleeping in late this morning."

Kendra shook her head. "I set the alarm to make sure I'd wake up, no matter when I'd gotten to bed. There's no way I was going to miss getting breakfast in bed for my only daughter on her thirteenth birthday. You're officially a teenager now." she chuckled.

Donna smiled warmly, then hugged her mother again. "Mom-...you're the best." she murmured affectionately.

"You are, too." Kendra said, returning the hug. When she drew back, a few moments later, she continued, "Now..." her tone shifting to mock-stern, "eat your breakfast before it gets cold, young lady. Even teenagers have to eat, you know."

Donna laughed and gave her mother a kiss, then settled back to eat. Kendra got out a second plate and filled it for herself. The next little while passed quickly as they ate and discussed plans for the day, talking about what she'd want to do. It was her day, after all.

* * * * * * * * * *

Back in the present...

That had been a wonderful day, Donna remembered, clinging to those memories as long as she could, still trying her best to block out the more recent and less pleasant ones. She'd gone out to lunch with her mother and they'd gone to see a movie, then out shopping for a new dress and some jewelry to mark the occasion. She'd balked at piercing her ears, so they'd settled for a necklace and a ring. Then, that night, her mother had let her have some of her friends over for a sleepover; they could do that since it'd been Saturday, and so it wasn't a school night. They'd played games, and listened to music, and watched a couple of movies, she remembered.

Of course, her mother had slipped out again during the party, but Donna had been used to her mother going out with her own friends by then. Kendra had said she'd wanted to let Donna have some time alone with her friends, too. If only she'd realized what had lain behind Kendra's going out so often, she thought. But practically right after her birthday, had been when the magic in her had begun to awaken. From that day on, Donna had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn't seen even a hint about what was happening with her mother. That, as it turned out, had been the beginning of the end.

Suddenly she couldn't stand to think about this any more. She got up and ruthlessly yanked the sheets off the bed, not caring if she tore any of them. The maid would bring fresh ones in the morning anyway; but she didn't want those to remain on the bed one minute longer. She couldn't sleep on the sofa after all, and she'd rather sleep on a bare mattress than on sheets he'd lain on. The scent of his cologne and of sex was too much in them now, she couldn't stand being reminded of that.

She threw the sheets down the laundry chute. At least for whatever was left of the night, his presence wouldn't be in this room.

He'd be back, of course. She knew that beyond any doubt; but she also knew it wouldn't be tonight. These little respites were all she could get, so she would take them where she could get them. Even a little break was better than none at all.

The pressure became too much for her at last, and she finally gave in to tears, burying her face in the pillow to keep from being overheard. After a while, she cried herself to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Morning came all too soon.

Donna stirred and dragged herself out of the bed. She didn't feel like getting up; she dreaded what might be in store for her today. However, she knew that the maid would be in soon. Not only that, but if she didn't show up for breakfast, Tompkins and Christine would not be happy. Bad things happened when Tompkins was 'displeased', or Christine got 'upset'--which was the way they'd put it. That was another far too familiar pattern around here, Donna had come to learn that the hard way.

She sighed and went to the closet to start getting dressed. If the choice of what to wear had been left up to her, she'd have picked a t shirt and jeans, but that would never, ever, do around here. With Tompkins, everything had to be formal, and that meant dressing up for every meal. She thought it was ridiculous, personally, but that was yet another opinion she didn't dare voice. This was Nathan Tompkins' house, and everything had to be by his rules. The only one who could get away with saying anything to him was Christine, and Donna had never known her to not back up Tompkins 100 percent. Christine was exactly like him in any way that really mattered, Donna thought bitterly.

She sighed and, turning her attention back to her clothing, chose a navy blue dress. It was the plainest one of all the clothes he'd had Christine buy for her; if she had to dress up, she'd pick something that was as close to her own style as she could possibly get away with. After that, it took only a few minutes for her to get herself cleaned up, dressed, and downstairs to the dining room.

Entering the large, ornate room, she saw that the table was already set. Luckily Tompkins wasn't here yet, though she knew it would only be a few minutes at most before he appeared. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew that she had to be here. They would expect it and be very upset--to put it mildly--if she didn't show up. Not to mention that Tompkins, Christine, or both of them together, would be all too likely to respond to any such thing by coming to drag her out of her room if they had to. Then, of course, they'd be certain to follow that up by dishing out yet another severe punishment.

She sighed and went to her place, ignoring the efforts of the manservant who tried to pull out her seat for her. He looked chagrined, and Donna felt a slight twinge of guilt at that. It wasn't his fault, she knew. The man was just doing his job; she knew that, but she still didn't like being waited on. Even after these last few months, she couldn't get used to it, especially in this place. There were so very many things here she couldn't 'get used to', she sighed. Being waited on by a servant was positively mild when she compared it against the other things, though.

She didn't have long to wait, as it turned out. The doors at the far end of the room opened, and Nathan Tompkins walked in, dressed in all black as was his usual style. As Donna had expected, Christine Benson walked beside him, hanging on his arm. Christine wore a rather tight-fitting and extremely low cut dress, of black velvet-she liked to dress to match whatever Nathan was wearing on a given day, Donna had seen that too many times. Christine accompanied Tompkins to every meal Donna'd been at so far, not to mention most of the formal social functions Tompkins either hosted or attended.

"Donna, my dear. I would really prefer it if you waited to be seated until we arrived." Nathan had said coldly. "Do, please, try and remember that in future. I would so hate to have to give you another lesson in proper etiquette. If I were to find myself compelled to do that--" he glanced at Christine, "you would be getting such a lesson from both of us."

"Indeed," Christine put in.

Donna bit her lip, trying to hold back the retort that almost came out. She didn't dare say anything the least bit negative; she knew that for her to snap back at them would only make things worse. They'd call it being 'disrespectful', and that was something they wouldn't tolerate for even one moment. That was proved out by Christine's next words. With an expression as cold as Tompkins, she said, "He's speaking to you, Donna. Show some respect for your elders."

Donna forced herself not to sigh visibly, and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Tompkins, I'll remember that. I'm sorry, Christine." she added, knowing if she didn't at least recite an apology, Christine would find fault with that, too. She normally had no problem with respecting older people. If she respected them, that is, and she'd lost whatever respect she'd had for Tompkins and Christine months ago. She didn't dare show that, though, or else they'd find some way to punish her again, in the most humiliating and degrading way possible. That, too, was something she'd learned from bitter experience.

She didn't dare ask either of them what was on their agenda for today. They'd tell her soon enough, and more than likely it wouldn't be anything she wanted to know. That was one thing she could be sure of. There'd be the regular session with the tutor, of course, since it was Monday; after that, though, there was no way of knowing in advance what Tompkins and Christine would want her to do.

In one way, she was glad of that, but in another, it only left her free to imagine and dread the worst. She was beginning to think they deliberately left it to the last minute to tell her any of their plans for her, so as to let her spend the most amount of time imagining all sorts of deadful possibilities. They did seem to enjoy watching her squirm, damn them.

Mechanically, she forced herself to eat, though she wasn't in any mood for it. For her to refuse to eat would only lead to at best another lecture, at worst some terrible punishment. The food felt like lead inside her, and didn't taste much better, but she made herself go on. She wanted to avoid provoking them if it could be helped. Too many times, it couldn't, but for the sake of whatever sanity she had left, she had to at least make the attempt.

That didn't stop her from thinking, try though she might to stay focused on the present, so as not to miss any comments or demands they might direct her way. When the present was nothing but pain, taking refuge in the past was the only pleasure she had left. She needed every bit of what little relief she could get around here.

There was one part of her that still missed going to school and hanging out with her friends, but another part that was relieved not to have to be around lots of people. Tompkins wouldn't hear of her going to a public school, and while he could've well afforded a private one, he'd insisted that a tutor would be better for her, so she wouldn't have to leave the estate.

That was one of the few things she did find herself agreeing with Tompkins about. Those last few months at her old school had been a minefield, emotionally speaking. She'd actually been terrified she was losing her mind, not having known then any other way to explain what was happening to her.

She remembered only too well how it had begun, the first time she'd actually felt someone else's emotions, thoughts. It'd been a flash here, a flash there, to begin with; at first she'd thought she'd only imagined it. However, it'd kept on happening, and gotten stronger all the time. All of the ups and downs that were part of life for everyone around her, all their joys, pains, fears; she' d been overwhelmed by them, begun to feel like she was drowning in them.

The best comparison she could make to how it had felt was a radio with no off switch. Anything they felt, anything they knew or remembered, she could see it as clearly as if it had been right in front of her physically. She hadn't known how to control it, and she still didn't, really. Even now, it was only Tompkins' and Christine's own magic that was keeping the worst of it shut out for her. They only unblocked her when they were trying to teach her to control it--or when they wanted her to do something for them, and it was more often the latter than the former, despite all that Tompkins had promised her during that first conversation they'd had, after the Family Court hearing.

School, the mall, any public place, had become an emotional hell. A casual look, a chance touch, however accidental, from anyone, and they'd instantly become an open book to her, their most private thoughts and feelings exposed, laid bare. That'd be what she'd pick up from just one person; multiply that by the number of people she was likely to run into on any given day, especially where there were really large groups, and the effects were nearly unbearable. It had gotten to the point where she hadn't been certain any longer which thoughts and feelings were her own, and which were someone else's. She'd found herself in a constant struggle to hold on to herself.

Tompkins' gravelly voice suddenly cut through her thoughts and jerked her back to the present. Both he and Christine were staring at her, daggers in their eyes.

"Donna!" Tompkins had said, his tone a warning of impending danger.

"Yes," she murmured. Oh, she'd put herself in for it now. How long had he been waiting for her to say something? It might've only been a few minutes, but that wouldn't have mattered to him. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was to be kept waiting-for anything.

"When I speak to you, I expect a response. Immediately."

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her eyes. She was in trouble now.

Tompkins and Christine exchanged looks. Christine nodded, and smiled with what Donna could only interpret as anticipation; even with their blocking her empathic sense, she could still read expressions. The way Christine was looking at her sent chills up Donna's spine; she knew it could mean nothing good; that look never did. Tompkins' own expression was much the same, and she shivered, afraid to hear what he'd say next.

"I think you should go see the tutor now. It is almost time, and I will not have him kept waiting. That would not be at all proper, my dear. Once he is finished with you for today, however..." Tompkins paused for a moment, as if considering something.

Donna bit her lip again. Damn him. This stretching things out was one of his ways, too.

"You will go to Christine's office. She has told me that she has something she wants to, shall we say, discuss with you. Is that understood?" he said in a tone that brooked no questions.

A stab of fear went through her. Of all the things he could have said, that was one of the worst. "Please--not that!" she cried out. What Tompkins called 'discuss' wouldn't mean any sort of actual conversation. Not when Christine was involved, and definitely not when it was supposed to be in her 'office'; Donna knew that only too well, from bitter experience.

"Oh, no, my dear! Please don't tell me you wouldn't so enjoy spending the afternoon with me, I'd really be so very disappointed." Christine cooed in a terrible mocking voice. "You don't want that, do you?"

Donna couldn't keep from trembling. A visit to Christine's so called office was, in its own terrible way, a thousand times worse than Tompkins forcing sex on her again.

Tompkins' eyes narrowed. "I do hope that that was not any sort of a protest, my dear. Because if it were, if I thought you had refused my....request...or Christine's, I might find myself compelled to, shall we say, reconsider certain matters. In particular, concerning your mother, and her...unfortunate...situation. Do, please, try to keep that in mind. Anything you choose to do, or choose not to do, affects others. Always remember that, my dear. Then, too, you must also learn the value of cooperation."

"He's right. Not only that, but you don't want to upset me, either." Christine put in. "All sorts of things can happen when I get upset, as I'm certain you know quite well by now-- unpleasant things."

Donna closed her eyes. His words, and Christine's, sent yet another sharp stab of fear through her. Especially the part about her mother. She knew both of them far too well by now. Nathan Tompkins and Christine Benson did not make empty threats. One word from him to the Illinois Department of Justice and her mother would be...she wouldn't think about that. She couldn't let herself think about that. Not here and now, or she'd start crying. Then there'd be no hiding it from Tompkins and Christine, and that would only make them more 'displeased' with her--that'd be the word they'd prefer to use. They'd made it clear she was in enough trouble today as it was, she didn't need any more.

There was always the risk that Tompkins would make good on his threat about her mother, and what would she do then? She couldn't live with herself if anything she'd done led to something terrible happening to her mother, that was a given. That, however, also meant she was trapped here, with Tompkins and Christine. There seemed to be no way out of this nightmare; none at all, and that knowledge filled her with despair.