Jenny was 21 years old. She was born in the hills of West Virginia to parents who believed there was only one way of being brought up; their way. She had been taught at home, learning from the books that her mother thought she would benefit from.

Jenny had two older brothers who worked outside the home. She saw them mainly at dinner time or on weekends when they were not out with their friends. Jenny’s parents believed that a good, clean woman was the only way to snag a God-fearing man.

It was on this day that Jenny turned 21. A party consisted of everyone being at the table promptly at 6pm, with dessert consisting of a hand-made birthday cake made of chocolate and a whipped frosting.

There were no candles nor songs to be sung. One by one, each family member presented their gift to Jenny. With no laughter in the air, Jenny would carefully open the gift and say a proper thank-you.

After retiring from dinner, Jenny and her mother would clear the table, scrape the dishes, wash, dry and put away for the next meal. The men of the family went outdoors. It was a good way to escape the twisted thoughts of their mother.

The two sons, Luke and Larry, loved their mother. They felt a sense of pity towards her and tried very hard to bite their tongues with their own thoughts. The story was spoken many years ago when their father had no choice but to sit the young boys down and tell them parts of the truth.

John had met Mary at a local dance one evening. She was so pretty. Her tiny waist and long, slender legs and her hair done up so tidy, every curl in its place. She had no problem filling up her dance card and John wanted to take up one more mark on the list.

One deep dimple on each side of her beautiful smile lured John into believing she was going to be his wife one day. Waiting his turn to stroll her on the dance floor and then watching her walk towards him with her graceful steps, he stood and bowed, took her hand and whisked her to the next sound of music.

The Last Waltz was being played by the group of five men playing their instruments. The lights were turned down low and the sparkle of  her eyes so close to his stood out. He pulled her closer to him, smelling her alluring perfume. A dance  he never wanted to end, finished within a few moments. He thanked her and she smiled into his eyes. He hoped for one more dance with her.

He gave her to the arms of another gentleman and walked over to the refreshment table. Pouring himself a cup of red punch, he sipped it while watching the couple dance with yearning eyes.

The music ended, the band took a break. Mary walked towards the exit doors, needing a breath of fresh air. She wandered out amongst the flowing weeping willow trees. Standing alone looking up at the twinkling stars she made a wish on one of the brightest lights that this night may never end.

She hadn’t noticed the footsteps  nearing her. She didn’t feel the large hand cover her mouth as she was turned towards a tall gentleman she had not been introduced to. He placed one of his arms around her waist and pulled her in the direction he wanted her to go.

Away from the chatter and the glittery lights he forced her to the ground. His hands tore at her buttons while his whiskers left red marks on her neck. With his mouth he forced hers  open and sucked up her innocent juices while his dirty hands found their way up her stockings. His fingers tore at her panties and with a force she had never known before he plucked her innocence.

He stood up not offering to help her and as he zipped his pants he said, ” If you say one word Jenny, I will kill your parents and then kill you.” With the words echoing in her head, he turned abruptly and ran into the darkness.

Mary laid there trying to grasp what had just happened to her. She began to weep as she started  to regain her composure. She shook as she stood up. She pulled at her buttons on her blouse trying to cover up the dirty hands that had been placed there.

She tugged  at her skirt, straightening it up as good as she could. As she started to walk, sharp pains struck her in her most forbidden area. The pain described harshness and force that had been pushed upon her.

She did her best to over look how she felt. She needed to escape. She didn’t want anyone to see her this way. This would be her secret to bare for the rest of her life. She could not say a word for fear of her parents being killed.



I hate it in a way that I have been exploding myself here at WordPress. I don’t usually like others to know my weakness. The only thing I can figure out for the reason being I am opening that door, is for new ideas or thoughts on how to conquer my issues and for the fact it helps to know that I am not being judged; but still cared about.

I am a terrible patient. I love the world of medicine and I love being there for others; but when it comes to my own health, I will dissect new information given to me until I have digested the entire piece.

It isn’t really a good idea. I believe it is a phobia of mine dealing with trust of doctors, wrong diagnosis in the past, wrong medications. Put that all together in a silly putty ball, and I can make my own original cartoon for me to sit and watch.

Today, may have been one of those times my weirdness may have paid off. I was given a new diabetic medication prescription yesterday. For the reason being I had never heard of it, I did my usual picking it a part on knowing every piece of the puzzle before I ingested it in my own body.

I called the doctor’s office this morning and said, ” Before I pick-up this medication, I wanted to make sure the doctor understands my allergy to sulfur. Would you please discuss this issue with him before I go pick it up?” She stated she would get back with my by the end of the day.

I received a phone call from the doctor himself less in less than an hour. He said with a giggle, ” You have to be the only patient I have who goes home and looks up your medications. I must have missed that on your record, so I will call in a different medication. In fact, since you have been on the one type of medication for a period of time, I shall call in the same medication but change it to ER. Thanks for letting me know. I am human and make mistakes.”

I was impressed, to say the least. A doctor who admits to being human. He has won me over a little more with his comment. The ER on the change means instead of taking twice a day a medication, I will be taking it once a day in the morning. The goal is to hopefully see my sugars remain more steady throughout the day instead of having to almost eat another whole meal at bedtime to keep my sugars up.

Of course, I do have a phobia about medicines; but this is one time I think it was to my advantage.