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Story Notes:

WARNINGS: 

I have marked incest on this. It is but it isn't.

There are references to sexual abuse of a minor though not explicate. 




Author's Chapter Notes:

The intention of this 1-shot is to expose more of Hanna's psyche. It should be read after Chapter 6: Epiphany in the story Voyeur.

So if you haven't read it, go do it. 




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Pang pang  putta putta  pang pang  putta putta  pang pang  putta putta  pang

creak creak creak creak creak - - - creak creak creak

 

The little girl put finishing touches on the lily pad carefully sketching the vertebra of the large floating leaf with light wispy strokes. Next she was going to add the ripples of water around the frog's head and the lily pad. She had seen something similar in a magazine once.

 

Pang pang  putta putta  creak creak

 

She lifted her curly head to gaze out the large elongated window. There were four panels each filled with a sheet of large glazed glass. Their imperfections cast a slight wobble to the objects on the other side, the trees never stood straight and when she watched papa pass below he slithered more than took proper steps. 

 

Rain turned everything a hazy color. She looked at the grey clouds and wished they would go away and take the rain with them. Still, the rain had made her think of a pond and the pond made her think of a frog and every frog should have a lily pad. 

 

She looked up at the ceiling. On the other side of the flat white surface was insolation and tin metal sheets. Papa had shown her once. The insolation was to keep heat in winter and the cold in summer. It looked like cotton candy. The tin was to keep the rain and snow and sun and wind from getting everything wet and messy. Papa had told her that too.

 

Pang pang  putta putta  pang pang

 

She turned her head slightly, the creaking stopped. That meant she could have ice tea and cookies.

 

Excitement pushed her off the bed, she sped from her room and barreled down the steps. When she got to the bottom she stood a minute to catch her breath. The smell of fresh butter cookies enveloped her and she floated to the kitchen and peeked inside. There a woman closed the oven and arranged a generous pile on a small plate.

 

"Hanna, you there?"

 

"Yes ma'am."

 

"Come sit down and I'll get you a nice tall glass of ice tea." She turned around and placed the plate on the table then adjusted her robe before heading to the fridge. 

 

Hanna sat down and chomped on a butter cookie. It was sweet and smooth and melted in her mouth. A glass of tea was placed in front of her and she reached for it and took a big gulp.

 

"Every happy home has a pitcher of ice tea Hanna." Hanna felt finger twirl around in her hair as she munched on another cookie. They twirled and pulled gently on the strands then grabbing her head tilted it gently to the side and she felt a light kiss feather her ear and neck.

 

"You smell nice and clean Hanna. It is important to always be clean. You understand?"

 

Hanna nodded and took another drink of tea.

 

 

= = = = = = = = = ================== =

 

Black was never really black. Her art teacher often said this and told her to look closer at the color itself. Hanna stared intensely at the picture of the night sky she was trying to replicate. She squinted her young eyes and smiled, blue, she could see blue. It was very dark, but definitely blue. She sifted carefully through the wooden box of colored pencils her grandfather had bought her when he noticed she had talent.

 

She pulled out the darkest blue and pressing down on the paper began streaking the sky in, color stroke by color stroke.

 

"Hanna!"

 

The point cracked in two and Hanna held the pencil suspended over the paper for a second.

 

"Hanna you hear me calling you!" 

 

She cringed and squeezed the pencil before dropping it and hurrying out of her room.

 

She stopped at the kitchen door and saw her father sitting at the table in his brown robe drinking tea and reading the paper. Her heart rate slowed in relief.

 

"Well, it is about time. How many times do I have to call you?" 

 

"I'm sorry I was working." She said quietly.

 

"Working? Wasting away time is more like it." The woman's hand flew through the air.

 

"Now P___, you know my baby's got talent. Ain't that so Na-Na?" He gave her smile through his brows. She smiled back.

 

"Maybe she do Mr. B," she said kindly and touched his shoulder softly, "but what she don't got is a clean bone in her body." She looked at Hanna flinging her harsh words across the small kitchen. "Do you see this?"

 

Hanna searched the counter and blinked.

 

"I said do you see this." The woman charged across the small space and hauled Hanna over to the sink. She pushed her head toward the counter. Hanna's eye glanced at the glass in the sink and her chest sank. There were a few crumbs on the counter, she closed her eyes. "It had to be you. I clean up after myself and take care of Mr. B so he don't have to worry. It had to be you. Ever since me and Mr. B got married you been getting worse and worse."

 

"I'm sorry. I..."

 

"I can't function with a mess like this Hanna." Her lips were close to Hanna's head. The words stabbed at her ears.

 

"Now P___," she heard the chair gently scape against the floor as her father positioned himself to intercede, "my baby said she was sorry. There is no need to get so excited." His calm voice defused the tension instantly and the woman backed off. "Na-Na you know P___ is very particular about the kitchen. Let's try to be more careful okay?"

 

"Yes, papa."

 

"Clean that right on up and go sharpen that talent."

 

She quickly washed and dried the glass and wiped the counter depositing the crumbs in the trash and waited for the woman's approval. She received a curt nod and then escaped to her room.

 

"You do spoil her Mr. B." she heard the woman say lovingly before she mounted the stairs.

 

 

= = = = = = = = = ================== =

 

The sun couldn't have been more dapper, the trees more green. The birds couldn't have chirped more robustly, the fresh fragrance of honeysuckle more sweet.

 

It was the worst day of Hanna's life.

 

She sat on the front porch steps, her shoes in front of her on the ground. Her hair was clipped back away from her face, which rested on the backs of her hands, which covered her knees. The skirt of her black dress rustled in the warm breeze and mumbles of gossip and condolences percolated from the windows and door behind her amid the woman's pitiful wailing.

 

"Oh Lord, Mr. B! Why - why Mr. B? Oh Looorrd!"

 

Hanna sighed and watched a defenseless grasshopper struggle against a group of red ants. She felt sorry for it and smashed it underneath her shoe. At first the little ants ran around in circles, but one by one they came back to the corpse. Eventually, it was overtaken and hauled off to be dismembered and stored for winter. She looked up in the sky thinking maybe God would show her the same compassion. She knew she didn't deserve it.

 

Apparently, he didn't think so either.

 

People came and went. She watched their mouths move as the paid their respects. Food was brought, furniture was moved to accommodate it, then back when it was all done. Dishes were cleaned, the floors swept and one by one cars pulled away from the house. The woman hugged Hanna's shoulders as her grandpa gave her a peck on the cheek and hobbles off to his truck.

 

Suddenly Hanna lurched forward.

 

"Grandpa, don't leave. Don't leave me grandpa." She hurried into his arms and hugged him tight shutting her eyes.

 

"Now, you know I can't stay with you. That would be a burden on your mother." He gave her a hug.

 

"Then, take me with you. I want to stay with you. Please take me with you."

 

"Your place is with your mother Hanna. You two have to stick together." He patted her back and pulled from him. "How do you think your mother would feel, being here all alone?" He began to turn away but Hanna had a death grip on his jacket. "Come now Hanna, let go." She continued to hold it.

 

The woman came from behind and grabbed her arms.

 

"Let go Hanna."

 

They both told her to let go over and over until they finally managed to pry her fingers open. Grandpa looked at her sadly as he climbed in his truck and pulled away. Hanna kept watching after the truck until it was no longer visible. Her breathing started to labor.

 

"Don't worry Hanna. We are going to take care of each other." She began to pull Hanna towards the house. Hanna's feet became tangled beneath her. She stumbled after the woman.

 

They climbed the stairs awkwardly and when they got to her father's bedroom, Hanna began to struggle.

 

"What are you doing Hanna? We are going to comfort each other just like we do when I make you clean."

 

"No. No, I don't want to. Not now, not today, please." She struggled to free herself from the woman's arms but it was almost as if she had three or four pares. They grabbed at her body holding her close. Hanna felt lips on her neck.

 

"I need comfort Hanna. I'm hurting inside." She hoisted Hanna into the bedroom.

 

Hanna gasped for air as she saw the bed and began to cry.

 

"Shshsh. Hush, everything is going to be all right. We are together now, just you and me."

 

Hanna closed her eyes as one of the myriad hands slid up her leg under her dress.

 

"Hanna and her mother. Call me mother Hanna. Call me mother!" Her hand moved against Hanna's body.

 

"Mother...mother...."

 

"You'll call me mother from now on. Hanna and her mother...

 

...Hanna and her mother."

 

 

= = = = = = = = = ================== =

 

Hanna yanked on the door nob with all her might.

 

"MOTHER!"

 

She pulled and tugged but it wouldn't budge.

 

"MOTHER!"

 

She began to beat on the door. She heard the back door slam and ran to her window. The glass distorted her mother's figure carrying a container of gasoline. Her mother pour the gasoline over the pile of Hanna's things. Her easel, paints, pencils, and canvases. Her handmade clothes, pictures, drawings, and paintings. Her brushes, sketchbooks, art books, prints and photos. Her handmade jewelry, ceramics, and sculptures now crushed. 

 

Hanna shook her head.

 

"No. NO!!"

 

Her mother walked back to the house. Hanna ran back to the door and beat again."

 

"MOTHER NO!"

 

She heard the back door again and ran to the window. There was nothing, then everything was in flames. Everything she loved, everything that had keep her sane, everything that gave her a reason to get up in the mornings and fight through another day was in flames. A roaring inferno that reflected everything in her mother's heart.

 

"If you can't take it at the local community college then you won't take it! You hear me?" Her mother screamed from below staring up at Hanna's window. He distorted warped figure on the other side of the glass, it was the most accurate picture of her mother Hanna had ever seen. The woman charged into the house.

 

Hanna heard the back door slam and heavy footsteps on the stairs. She turned and faced her door. Slowly she walked over to it. If her mother opened that door she was going to knock the shit out of her.

 

She heard breathing on the other side.

 

"I am not going to let you go Hanna. You get that straight? I am never going to let you go!" Her mother hit the door and Hanna stepped back.

 

Then there was silence.

*

 

For days after that Hanna stayed away from home. She visited the local community college, her art mentor in High School and stayed anywhere someone would let her. She made up her mind to go to the art college in the city and told her mentor. Then she headed back home to get what she wanted out of her mother.

 

Hanna walked up to her house or hell, depending on how one wanted to look at it and took a deep breath. She had to have her mother's signature on a piece of paper so she could enroll, after that, she would be free. She would promise anything she had to, she was going to the art college, even if this day destroyed whatever shred of decency she had left.

 

As soon as the door closed behind her, her mother appeared in the hallway.

 

"Are you feeling better Hanna?"

 

"Yes, mother."

 

Her mother turned and mounted the stairs. Hanna followed as if in some trance. They turned into Mr. B's bedroom and her mother closed the door. Hanna stood still as her mother kissed her frantically. On the neck, lips, cheeks. She lifted Hanna's shirt off and kissed down her chest.

 

"Hanna, touch me."

 

"I would be happy to." Hanna cupped her mother's face. "As long as you sign a piece of paper for me." Then she kissed her mother passionately. Her mother's arms circled her back and she squeezed. Hanna broke the kiss.

 

"Wh...what paper?"

 

"It says that I can go to the art college for one year." She licked her mother's ear and nibbled on her lobe before kissing slowly down her neck. "One year and then I come back."

 

"One year?"

 

Hanna pushed her to the bed and crawled over her. She planted her knee between her legs and began to move back and forth over her body. Her mother moaned and opened her legs wider.

 

"One year, that's all. You can do that for me, can't you mother?" She pulled her mother's blouse open and sucked her neck.

 

"Y...yes...I..."

 

Hanna pulled the paper out of her pocket and opened it on the nightstand next to the bed. She put a pen in her mother's hand and helped her turn over as she started removing her clothes. She watched her mother sign the paper and licked her back at the base of her spine. Her mother turned back over and smiled lustily.

Hanna sat back on her knees.

You're a sick twisted fucking bitch.

 

But I'm going to treat you right.

 

For the last fucking time.

 

My Freedom.






Chapter End Notes:

If you have any question, I will answer then directly. I hope I have led you to the correct conclusions though.

Next will be the last Chapter in Voyeur and then on with the second part of the story. 





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