Coping Mechanisms: Living a Memory

Samantha did not come out of her orgasm-induced coma for another fifteen minutes. And, when she did, she stood up, not once straightening her nightie or even moving her panties back in place. She walked to her mirror and looked at herself. She let her eyes survey the damage, scanning her now messy red hair, still glazed over thousand-yard stare, cum stained thighs, and everything else wrong about her. There was no smile. There was no lingering hint of pleasure. The orgasm had died. But so had the anger and pain. These were numbed along with everything else. And, for now, that was enough. The event had not be identical to before, but it had done the trick. It did not have to be identical. Just the fact it was her father was enough, it seemed. Just the fact that she resisted, again. The fact he had raped her, again. These were enough to numb her for a time.

She crawled in bed, still neglecting to clean up or even straighten her clothes. She curled up beneath her red comforter. Then she closed her eyes and slept. There were no nightmares that night. Living out her nightmare ensured that. Even her boyfriend, Todd, would not show in her dreams. Her dreams were blank canvases. They would only fill when her need again began to grow. She did not know how long she could live like this. How long she could keep this hidden from Todd for that matter. But she had to try.

To be continued...