The Abuse of Ashley Collins

by Athan, Jon

  Logan approached the workbench. He placed the bowl on the tabletop and stared at his tools. He did not plan on torturing her with the tools, though. Plain violence would not teach her a lesson, beatings would not deter her bad behavior.

  With his back to the support beam, he asked, “Are you still hungry, Ashley?”

  Unfortunately, Ashley was pushed into a corner. She had not eaten since her dinner date with Tyler during the previous day. Due to her outburst – a spit in the face never sat well with the receiver – she had placed herself on her father's bad side. She was hungry, though. Without a bite of food, she wouldn't have the energy to survive.

  Ashley said, “Yes. Yes, I'm hungry. Let me go. Let me eat. Please, I'm really hungry.”

  Logan nodded and said, “Good. I have a treat for you. I don't have to let you go, either. Don't worry, I'll feed you. I'll take care of you, baby...”

  Logan smacked his lips as he returned to the support beam. He stared at his daughter, examining her with a set of disappointed eyes. He appeared glum and frustrated. In his mind, every daughter was supposed to be a princess, but his thoughts led him to the most deviant places. After witnessing Calvin's findings, he didn't even see a potential princess in the dungeon. No, he saw a whore. That image brought a tear to his eye.

  He said, “Let me show you something...”

  He dug his hand into his pocket, then he pulled out a roll of flavored condoms – six condoms, to be exact. He dangled the condoms in front of his daughter's face, like a fisherman holding his catch for a photo.

  Ashley stared at the condoms, awed. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears. She glanced at her father, then back at the condoms – struggling to connect the pieces.

  Ashley said, “You... You went into my room. You actually went into my room and invaded my privacy.”

  Logan chuckled and shook his head, amused. He said, “It's funny. You hear that a lot in movies and TV shows, don't you? A little bratty girl yells at her father because he went into her room – as if she owned the house. And, they always get the same response: my house, my rules. Something among those lines. It's ridiculous, but it's true. It's not your room and you don't deserve any privacy in my house, especially when you break the rules. Remember that.”

  “You... You invaded my privacy. You just went into my world and screwed everything up. My secrets, my heart... You just went through it like if it was nothing. You don't even care, do you?”

  Logan sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't care about his daughter's melodramatic speech. Complaining about her punishment was justified, but moaning about an 'invasion of privacy' seemed foolish. The government has done worse, he thought, the bastards can probably read our minds by now. He shrugged off his daughter's complaints and continued with the lesson plan.

  Logan said, “I want to talk to you about sex, Ashley.”

  “What about it?” Ashley asked, irritated.

  “We didn't talk to you much about sex. We figured the schools would teach you about that. We were wrong – obviously. The schools, your teachers... They don't know shit about raising children. Hell, these days, they're promoting sex more than anything. We should have taught you about the 'birds and the bees.' We should have taught you about the consequences of sex.”

  “Get to the point.”

  Logan nervously chuckled, struggling to bottle his rage. He wagged his finger at Ashley and asked, “Do you remember the warnings we gave you about sex? Do you remember what I said about boyfriends and babies?”

  Ashley remained quiet. She remembered the warnings, but she couldn't muster the courage to blurt it out. She was strategizing, trying to find a way out of the cuffs.

  Logan said, “Let me remind you: if you have sex with dumbass boys, you will likely get pregnant. If you get pregnant before you're 18, you will likely live a miserable life. And, if you have a baby while you live under my roof, I am not taking care of it. You remember that, don't you?”

  Ashley responded, “Yes. That's why we were using protection.”

  “Smart. You're a real genius, Ashley. Except, it's not enough. Most of you idiots don't even know how to put a condom on. Hell, I'd be more comfortable if we found condoms and birth control in your room, but we didn't. So, I'm going to teach you a lesson. I don't want these condoms in my house, so we're going to get rid of them. And, since you have such a big mouth, I know exactly where to put 'em...”

  ***

  Logan opened a wrapper, then he pulled the condom out. The condom emitted a tropical scent – a fruity aroma. He didn't care for flavored condoms, he stuck with the originals, but it certainly fit his planned lesson.

  Logan said, “You're going to eat these condoms, girl. You're going to swallow them. Okay?”

  Eyes wide with fear, Ashley stared at her father in disbelief. She bit her bottom lip and leaned as far back as humanly possible. Logan pushed the condom towards Ashley's mouth, rubbing it on her sealed lips. His daughter groaned and swayed her head, trying to dodge the condom to no avail.

  Frustrated, Logan grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him. He said, “I'm giving you an easy option, sweetheart. Swallow the condoms. If you don't, I'm going to beat you with that wire hanger and I know you don't want that.” He pulled on her chin, ignoring her whimpers. Through his gritted teeth, he said, “Chew and swallow.”

  The condom slipped through her lips and entered her mouth. Logan quickly placed more pressure on her chin and stopped her from spitting it out. The tortured teenager did not plan on spitting the condom at her father's face anyway. She figured she had no choice but to oblige. Her legs and chest were sore and bruised from the previous beating.

  She just couldn't handle another.

  Tears gushing from her eyes, Ashley chewed on the condom as if she were chewing on a piece of gum. Like the scent, the condom had a fruity flavor – artificial strawberry. The flavor didn't last very long, though. She eventually found herself chewing on the raw rubber. Her teeth couldn't penetrate or rip the rubber, either. She already had trouble swallowing pills, so she was afraid of swallowing the condom.

  With bloodshot eyes, stern and frustrated, Logan asked, “How does it taste? Hmm? How does it taste?”

  Ashley wheezed and moaned as saliva spilled over her bottom lip and dripped on the floor. She wanted to bawl hysterically, but she couldn't muster the courage to shriek.

  Disregarding his daughter's feelings, Logan said, “Swallow it.”

  “I can't...”

  “You can.”

  “No, I can't.”

  “Swallow it, Ashley!”

  Ashley grimaced in disgust as she quickly chewed on the condom, trying to make it easier to swallow. She stared at her father, hoping to evoke a sense of regret in his heart, but to no avail – she gazed into the eyes of a madman.

  Without any other options, she tossed her head back and reluctantly swallowed – as if she were swallowing a large pill without any water. Her eyes watered as she struggled to choke it down. She could feel the condom clinging to her throat, trapped. She coughed and groaned, retching like a cat with a hairball.

  Logan gently slapped her and said, “Don't you dare throw it up, girl. If you throw up, I'm going to make you eat that vomit. You're going to learn to clean your own mess.”

  In a croaky tone, Ashley stuttered, “I–I'm... I'm choking. I... I can't...”

  “Swallow it.”

  Teary-eyed, Ashley wheezed and gasped as she stared at her father. She was shocked by his sheer lack of remorse. She was suffocating in front of him, but he didn't offer a drop of water or any medical aid. She loudly slurped the saliva in her mouth, then she swallowed – gulp. The condom finally passed, allowing her to breathe comfortably.

  As his daughter recomposed herself, Logan examined Ashley's condition. Her lips were pale and her cheeks were turning blue. Hoarse breaths escaped her mouth as she panted like a dog during a scorching summer. The distressing image did not bother him, though. He ope
ned another wrapper, then he shoved the condom into her mouth.

  Before she could utter a word, he tore open a third wrapper, then he forced a second condom into her mouth.

  He forcefully closed her mouth and said, “Chew.” Eyes full of tears, Ashley slowly nodded and chewed on the flavored rubbers. Without taking his hand off of her chin, Logan said, “I have other lessons planned for you. I fell behind on my parenting and I have to catch up. I don't want to teach you about sex anymore. I think you've learned that lesson, right? Right?”

  Without opening her mouth, Ashley responded, “Y–Yes...”

  “Good. Now, don't take my kindness for weakness. If I have to, I won't hesitate to teach you more 'sex lessons' if you continue going down the whore's path. I will not raise an illegitimate child for you. Understood?”

  Ashley nodded in agreement, tears coursing down her rosy cheeks. She would do anything to temporarily appease her father.

  Logan smiled and gently slapped her cheek. He said, “Great. You finish eating that, okay? Swallow both of them. If you spit them out, vomit, or try to hide them, I'll make you eat the entire box. Don't play with me 'cause the games are over, girl.” As he walked towards the stairs, the vulgar man said, “Your mother wants to have a word with you, Ashley. She's been waiting for this for a long time...”

  Ashley chewed on the condoms as she watched her father depart from the dungeon. She considered spitting the rubber into her shirt, but she knew her father would be suspicious – he would strip her down to her birthday suit if it pleased him. She wept and moaned as she squirmed on the support beam, trying to swallow the condoms as she waited for her next lesson.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Mother's Envy

  Logan closed the basement door behind him. He smiled and closed his eyes – he couldn't hear his daughter's muffled cries. He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked towards the front door. Jane had already finished washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen. She sat in the living room, watching television as she waited for her turn – like a child waiting to play a single-player video game with her siblings.

  Logan said, “She's ready for you, honey.”

  Jane glanced over at her husband, surprised by his arrival. She asked, “Is... Is she hurt? I don't want to go down there if she's hurt too badly. I don't... I don't want to see anymore blood. Not yet. You know how I am, sweetie. I just–”

  “I didn't hit her. She's ready for you. Just do what you have to do, okay? I'll be with you every step of the way. Come on.”

  Jane inhaled deeply, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable abuse. She grabbed a small black case from the floor beside the sofa.

  Logan asked, “You need any batteries?”

  “No. No, I'm ready. Let's... Let's teach her a lesson she won't forget.”

  Jane held the case to her chest and marched past her husband. She tapped the four-digit code onto the handle, then she pushed the door open. She stared down into the dungeon, unnerved. Her daughter's coughs and whimpers were depressing. She tapped her forehead and nodded. A single phrase reverberated through her mind: receding hairline. She walked down the stairs and descended into the cold dungeon.

  Logan shifted the bar latch on the front door, ensuring his son could not enter the house and interfere, then he followed his wife into the basement. He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall near the bottom of the steps as he watched his daughter.

  Ashley breathed deeply as she glared back at her father. The man wasn't her immediate threat, though. She turned her attention to her passive mother and pondered her lesson for the day. She watched as her mother placed the black case on the workbench.

  As she opened the case with her back to Ashley, Jane said, “I've always wanted to be a good parent. I wanted to be the 'cool' mom. You know, the mom you wouldn't be embarrassed to introduce to your friends.” She stopped shuffling through the case and sniffled. She said, “I... I wanted to be your friend, Ashley. Being someone who lived through abuse, I never wanted to lay a finger on you. I didn't want to continue the cycle... but the cycle is part of life.”

  Ashley sobbed and said, “You don't have to do this...”

  “But, I do. If I don't want you to end up like those other kids, hopped up on drugs while their poor babies cry in the backseat, I have to teach you a lesson. I'm doing this for you, sweetie.”

  “For me? You're beating me for... for me? Can't you hear how insane that sounds, mom? This isn't helping me. Beating me won't solve a thing. Please, listen to me.”

  Jane shook her head and said, “You're wrong, darling. There is a reason you act the way you do... It's because you weren't properly disciplined. It's because we were bad parents. There's also a reason why most of your friends don't act like you. They know how to respect authority because their parents secretly beat them. They won't admit it – they're either too smart or too embarrassed – but it's true. You're well-behaved friends were beaten and taught to respect authority at an early age. You don't know anything about that, though...”

  Ashley frowned, disappointed by her mother's speech. She felt a shred of guilt for her previous actions. Like a tortured prisoner of war forced into confessing, she couldn't tell if the guilt was genuine or if she had been manipulated by the abuse. Still, the remorse and the depression were difficult to reject.

  She watched her mother from the support beam, befuddled. She could see her shuffling about near the case. Clicking and clanking sounds emerged from the workbench, as if she were changing the batteries on a remote. The woman stopped moving. She inhaled deeply again and shuddered – anxious, frightened, ready.

  Ashley gasped and trembled as Jane turned towards the support beam. Her mother held an electric trimmer in her right hand. The trimmer buzzed as she placed pressure on the switch, ready to cut through a forest of hair.

  The noise would have been regular on any other day. To the young girl, the trimmer sounded like a swarm of angry bees buzzing towards her.

  Delirious, Jane nervously laughed as the device vibrated in her hand. Her fear slowly dwindled and excitement began to swell in her timid figure. She finally embraced the abuse.

  Ashley squirmed on the pillar, trying to escape – but to no avail. She could only shake her head and whip her hair while attempting to dodge the trimmer.

  The teenager stuttered, “P–Please... Don't do this. I said... I said I was sorry. Why won't you listen to me? I apologized! Please!”

  Her eyes welling over with tears and her voice cracking like a teenager's, Jane said, “You hurt me, you deserve this... Besides, you've got milk in your hair. This will help.”

  Jane grabbed a fistful of her daughter's hair, then, without warning, she ran the trimmer across her dome. The long strands of hair plummeted to the concrete floor, spiraling down like autumn leaves in the wind. The tresses landed under Ashley's feet, piling with each stroke of the trimmer.

  As she tried to pull away, Ashley shouted, “Please, mom, don't! Don't do this! Please!” Her mother continued to cut her hair, showing no intentions of slowing down. In a cracking voice, hoarse due to her constant screaming, Ashley yelled, “Please! Mom! Mommy, stop! I'm sorry! I said I was... Oh, God, I'm sorry...”

  Ashley stopped pulling away from her mother. She panted as her eyelids flickered. She involuntarily twitched, too. Eyes full of tears, she stared down at her detached hair in disbelief. She felt some physical pain as her mother tugged on her remaining hair. However, the actual haircut caused more agony in her heart. In fact, the haircut caused more emotional pain than her father's punishments, too.

  The teenager was humiliated. She loved her hair, spending hours caring for each strand. She didn't have much in life, so it was important to her. It wasn't about having better hair than anyone else – she wasn't an egotistical person. It was about having something to care about when she felt like no one cared about her; it was about having control when she was being controlled.

  Feeling the cool breeze on her head, she felt like she had l
ost everything. Her battle against her parents was over. A leather belt and a wire hanger could not defeat her, but an electric trimmer quickly crippled her resolve.

  As she swiped the trimmer across her daughter's head, Jane said, “I'm almost finished, hun. Just... Just give me a second.”

  Ashley stopped responding. She stared down at the pile of hair beneath her feet, vacant. She abandoned her body, her soul momentarily left her vessel. Hatred pumped through her veins, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fight her parents. She reluctantly accepted defeat and waited for the lesson to end.

  Jane sighed as she turned off the trimmer. She stepped in reverse and said, “I'm done.”

  The unhinged mother couldn't help but smile as she examined Ashley's dome. Her hair was buzz cut with the trimmer. A few patches of long hair were scattered across her head, especially along the back side of her dome – business up front, party in the back. She could have evenly shaved her daughter's head, but she thought the style was appropriate.

  Tears dripping from her eyes with each blink, Jane asked, “Now, what were you saying about a 'receding hairline?' Hmm?”

  With her head slumped down, Ashley glared at her mother with a set of feral eyes. She was infuriated by her mother's audacity. One word echoed through her mind: cunt, cunt, cunt. If she were not chained to the support beam, she would have beaten her mother into oblivion. She clenched her fists behind the pillar, saving her rage for another day.

  “Not very talkative anymore, are you?” Jane asked in a condescending tone. “Good. It's about time you learn your place around authority. You needed this, sweetie. Remember, this is for you. I can't stress that enough.”

  “Because it makes you feel better?” Ashley asked.

  “What?”

  “You and him keep saying that. You're saying it because it makes you feel better, right?”

  “N–No, I'm... I'm saying it because it's the truth. You needed this to... to make you normal. You've been down here for two days and our lives up there have already gotten so much better for your father, your brother, and me. We can sleep all night without you and your boyfriend disrupting us. We can have breakfast without an argument ruining the mood. And, we're going to have a nice dinner tonight – a family dinner. It's been so long since we've done that... While we eat, I want you to think about everything you've done and said in the past. The faster you learn, the faster your lessons will end.”