Domestic Wife: The Barn

TRIGGER WARNING: this story contains elements of SEXUAL ASSAULT and was written for therapeutic reasons.

The story contains a elements of rape as well as other disturbing things and is meant to help SOME people cope with trauma. If you feel that this story would upset you or would be too gritty, PLEASE do not read it.

Rape is NOT the same as sex. Clear, sober, willing consent is essential. You aren't alone. If you or a friend have been assaulted and need help please contact one of the National Sexual Assault hotline.

*

The leaves crunched underneath Jesse's boots as he walked to the front door. When he'd opened the heavy frame he saw no one inside. Confused, he knocked on the bathroom door. When he peeked inside, he saw that there was no one there either. It was as if the house had been untouched all day. There was no sign of food being made, Darcy's books were on the shelf, her papers were neatly placed away as well.

Jesse set down his things and stood on the porch, calling out for Darcy. But, there was no reply. He was beginning to worry. Perhaps she'd left him. No, he told himself, that wouldn't be in her character. Even if she was going to leave, surely she'd tell him first. She was too honest and sweet not to give him that.

He surveyed his property and noticed that the barn door had been left ajar. He smiled, he was confident he'd find her there. She was a diligent wife, strong and smart. He loved to see her work with the animals. She had such a kind nature, he thought as he walked across the field. When he neared the barn he could hear a soft sound. It sounded like crying. His pulse quickened as he pulled open the door. His heart sank.

For a moment, his wife didn't see him. Instead, she was curled up on a pile of hay. Her matted hair was coming out of her braid. There was blood on her dress. When Jesse looked closer, he saw that it was wrinkled and torn.

"Darcy?" he said trying to sound calm but failing.

Her head snapped in his direction and she winced. He could see the red marks around her neck. Her cheeks were red too. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

His footsteps were careful and quiet. He approached his injured wife as he might've approached a wounded deer in the forest, careful not to scare it away. He squatted down in front of her crumpled figure. She didn't look at him or try to speak.

"Darcy?"

There was no answer, only silence hung between them. He braced himself and shoved down his own feelings of anger and sadness.

"Darcy, darling?" he asked gently, though he knew the answer, "Will you tell me what happened?"

After about ten minutes of her silence, her frightened and desperately sad eyes looked up at him. They hardly looked like his wife's eyes anymore. All the light had gone from them, yet, they pleaded with him still. He thought it best not to make any sudden movements and to ask before touching her, at least until he knew the exact nature of what had been done to her.

"Darling are you listening to me?" he asked sternly but kindly.

She blinked.

"I love you very much, nothing will change that." he promised, "Can I take you to the bathroom and get you cleaned up?"

"No," she said quickly, then started to sob. She felt something rise up inside of her, some strange emotion. She was repulsed by the thought of him seeing her naked and didn't want him to touch her body.

"Darling, at least let me hold you. You can tell me what happened."

"No." She said more firmly this time, but there was fear in her voice. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest.

Her husband's heart was breaking. Someone had hurt his wife. He prayed it was not to the extent he was imagining, but he knew it was exactly that. He reached a hand out to caress her cheek and she recoiled from him putting her arms up as a defense. His heart sank further still. He tried to remind himself that she was frightened of what happened; she was not scared of him.

Without a word she stood slowly, wincing. Then without looking back at him she walked across the field and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She double-checked to make sure the door was locked, closed the curtains, then started to disrobe. When she saw herself in the mirror, she had to look away. She stared at the faucet, the floor, the chair in the corner. She stared at anything instead of her own body. That girl covered in bruises was not her. She hated the way her skin looked, all purple and yellowish-brown.

She stepped in the tub. She stared at her body for a long time. It was disgusting to her. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and evaporate. She wanted to know how peaceful it might feel to not feel anything at all. She looked at her bruised knees. They didn't even feel like a part of her body anymore. Each time she accidentally bumped one of the bruises she felt as if he were still there, hurting her.

The thought made her sob, she had no control over what happened. The thought that soon her husband would want to do the same to her made her feel like vomiting. She recalled all the things that had been done to her and felt dizzy. Her heart was starting to beat quickly again. Everything around her seemed fake, like none of this was really happening.

Yet, when her bruise touched the side of the tub again, the pain felt real. She pressed the bruise again. Then she did it harder. She wanted to press her nails into her skin or draw blood with some other object. She was so angry with her body's inability to protect itself. She was weak. She was pathetic and disgusting and worthless. She'd failed and there was no-one to blame but herself.

But, as the water began to fill the tub, Darcy took deep breaths. For a long time, she sat there, focusing on her breathing. Then when she no longer felt her pulse quickening, she reminded herself that what happened was over.

"You're safe now." She whispered to herself through her tears, "Stop crying. You're safe."

She thought that perhaps if she'd said it enough it might start to feel like the truth. She repeated it until the words were nothing but different sounds grouped together without meaning.

It was a strange feeling to look at her body and to be afraid to touch it. She feared that any touch might bring up a sad recollection. He had left his mark on every inch of Darcy's body. There seemed to be no place he left for her.

Taking a deep breath she tried anyway. She went slowly at first. She touched her hands, "These are mine. My hands. My fingers."

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she reminded herself that it was her mouth. Her lips. Her tongue. She did the same with every place that was bruised, in an attempt to reclaim her body, head to toe, piece by piece. She came to a halt when she touched her breasts.

She felt disgust and guilt wash over her at the thought of him touching her there. Her pulse quickened again as she recalled the series of events that escalated from that first touch, each more violent than the last. She couldn't help but feel small and useless again. She couldn't help but feel as if every slap, every degrading word, every time he ignored her pleas to stop was the tangible proof of her own worthlessness.

His words came rushing back to her. 'You're doing this to yourself. Stop fighting me,' He would say, 'I don't care what you want. You're a whore and whores need to be used. I own you now.'

She tried to block it out but the memories kept coming back anyway. He would slap her until she teared up. He bit her nipples and her neck. The bites were nothing like what her husband would do. These were filled with anger. He didn't hold back, no matter how much she squirmed or pleaded. She sobbed uncontrollably, frantically trying to push him off. Her efforts to push him away only served to make him hurt her more.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He said shoving his fingers down her throat, making her gag and her eyes water. He'd gotten frustrated when she bit him. So he grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and shaken her head violently. It made her feel so disoriented and frightened that all she could do was cry more.

He'd put his hands on her throat when she tried to scream. She could feel herself getting lighter. Her eyes wanted to close. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't make a sound. Terror raked through her like electricity. She felt the panic all over as the man continued to violate her. His hand reached down under her skirt as he felt her smooth legs. She closed them tightly but he pried them open with ease.

Darcy heard the door knock, startling her and bringing her back to the present. It was her husband's voice on the other side. He was asking if she would let him in. He told her that he needed to see her.

She was silent in response. She had told him no already.

"Darcy." her husband spoke firmly, "I need to make sure that you're alright."

"I'm not alright! And I said no!" Darcy yelled from the tub, Immediately putting her head in her hands and sobbing.

After another hour or so, Darcy got up. She gingerly dried off and put on her clothes. When she left the bathroom she walked immediately to the bed and curled up underneath the covers. Her husband appeared with warm tea in his hand. Darcy shook her head. Her husband set the tea down. He'd wanted to climb into bed with his wife and hold her tight. Perhaps she needed her space for now. So, he pulled a chair up to her bedside and sat beside her. After a few minutes, he asked if he could stroke her hair or hold her hand until she fell asleep. Darcy nodded, not even looking at him, and he did just that until his wife drifted to sleep.

---

That next morning, Jesse got up and got dressed. His wife woke after him. From the bed she could see him by the door, axe in hand. Panic rose through her. Suddenly she was wide awake.

"Where are you going?"

He gave her a curious look, "to get some more firewood."

She teared up at his words, the feeling of terror ripping through her body at the thought of being left alone. "Please. Don't go."

Jesse set down his axe and walked towards the woman in his bed. "What's wrong?"

He noticed that her breathing quickened. "Please just don't. You can't go and leave me here all by myself because he might come back and if you aren't here-"

"Why don't you come with me?"

Darcy nodded quickly. She threw on her clothes and her shoes and went with her husband to get some logs to split. She watched as he swung the axe down. She couldn't help but wish she'd have gotten a hold of it sooner.

Even though her husband had agreed to stay home that day, he warned her that he could not stay with her at all times. The thought worried him as much as it did her. She was constantly afraid to leave the cabin. That night, Darcy shifted underneath the blankets. Her heartbeat quickened at the recollection. Her unconscious mind was relentless. Every detail was made even more frightening by its surreal, dreamlike nature. The nonsensical terror the dream provided was no less real than the trauma itself. In fact, it seemed even more real to her sometimes.

She recalled the feeling of his hands around her neck. The angry look in his eyes bent on her destruction. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel the tender soreness that accompanied her body the next day. She remembered how he'd slapped her, when she spoke out of turn, and how it felt strangely right that he should do so.

He spoke to her kindly afterward. But, his voice was so sweet and so soft that it almost took on a condescending tone. He had spoken to her this way in the dream as well. He reminded her of who she truly was, not this perfect bride that her husband seemed to see. The thought hurt Darcy deeply. She knew that Jesse loved her. She knew she was valued highly in her husband's eyes. So, why then did the man's words ring true?

Those things he told her frightened her and made her feel small. And perhaps she was small. She had slept peacefully almost every night since she moved into her husband's home. Jesse's arms were usually enough to help her calm her worried mind, but not this time.

Weeks later the dreams were much the same. Tonight she laid awake. Her eyes peered up at the beams overhead. Darcy reminded herself again that she was safe. She had never felt her husband's hands around her neck, squeezing until she felt like she might close her eyes and drift away. She had never aroused his anger so much that he struck her across the face. He'd never bent her over and used a wooden cane when she misbehaved. The men in her dreams did all of these things and more.

At night, the men in Darcy's dreams would force her over tables. When she would beg them to stop, they would only laugh at her and continue. She would cry. They would keep going. If she pushed them or tried to run away they would catch her by the arm and force her to her knees. They would bite her as she squirmed underneath them. She would scream for help, but no one would appear to save her. Sometimes, they would cover her mouth and nose while choking her. This was the most frightening for Darcy because it made her entire body feel claustrophobic.

When Jesse looked at his wife, he could see the large bags under her eyes. These dreams gave her no rest. Her attacker was constantly on her mind and she hated herself for it. No matter how bad her dreams were, Jesse had never been one of the perpetrators before. This time, she'd dreamt that he had walked through the doors and grabbed her painfully by the hair, slamming her against the wall. The suddenness had frightened Darcy, she put her hands up to cover her face in defense.

'Put your hands down. If I want to hit you, then I'm going to hit you.' Said the man who looked like Jesse. His voice was rougher in her dreams.

'Say thank you.' He told her, just after striking her hard across the face.

Frightened of what would happen if she were to decline, she thanked him.

'Now tell me what you are,' he sneered.

'I'm obedient and kind-'

She felt him smack her again. 'No. You are obedient and worthless. You're here so I have someone to fuck. Now, I'm going to stick my cock deep inside your slutty little cunt. Because that's what you're good for. That's why you're here. '

Then the door opened again. One man after the other poured in through the open door. Some of them were dirty, others clean. Some of them looked rich. Some were very old. All of them were older than Darcy. They all wore knowing smiles as they gazed at her lewdly. It sent shivers down her spine.

All of a sudden, Darcy felt herself in the corner of the room. The men were encroaching on her. The walls of her house melted away and the floor turned to a cold, black, stone. When she looked down at it, she saw that her bare feet were covered in thick, dark, red blood. One of the men grabbed her and took her by the hair and dragged her down a dark hallway.

At the end of this hallway, there was room filled with women. They were all naked. Some of them were tied up on tables or chairs. The room was filled with men too. They were large, frightening men with mean faces and cruel eyes. Some of them were beating the women there. Others were watching as men forced themselves inside the crying women. The room was filled with grunts and screaming and sobbing.

Darcy was frightened at the sight of so many women being used and tortured. Some of the women wore blank expressions. Darcy guessed that they had resigned themselves to this fate. They horrified her. In a state of panic, Darcy called out to her husband. He merely laughed and told her that she would need to get used to being hurt.

"This is your life now," he told her, slapping her hard once more, "You look so pretty and useless when you cry. It makes me hard."

He told her that he liked to watch as his worthless wife was fucked by strangers. He savored the frightened look on her face and the panic in her voice as the men began tying her to a table. Darcy tried to keep her legs closed but one of the men was too strong. He forced her legs open.

"You don't get to tell me no." He told her strictly, before kissing her and biting down hard.

Darcy woke up sweaty, her face wet with tears. She could feel her chest begin to constrict. It felt like everything around her was getting tight and hot. Her heart was beating so fast. She could hear the thumping in her ears. Suddenly, she wiped her face, but couldn't help but to burst into tears again. Jesse awoke to the sound of his wife's sobs. Startled, he moved closer to her, and placed a hand on her face to bring her to look at him. He felt a pang of guilt when his wife flinched.

"Darcy, darling what's the matter?"

He could just make out her face in the moonlight. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Silently, he placed an arm around her, he felt that she was trembling. Saying nothing, she continued to cry harder.

"It was just a dream," he guessed. In a soothing tone, he told her softly, "It's over now."

Darcy crawled into his arms, tears still streaming down her face. She still said nothing. Surprised at her acceptance, he stroked her hair and held her close. Rubbing her back he told her that she was safe.

After a moment Jesse pulled back to look at his wife. He carefully placed a hand on her cheek, brushing away her hair and drying her tears. He had noticed that some nights his wife had more trouble sleeping than others. He assumed that she would bring it up to him when she was ready. He scolded himself for not asking sooner.

"What was your dream about?"

"I don't think I should say," Darcy told him, terrified that he would think of her as some horribly depraved woman if she were to tell him the details of her dream.

"Please," Her husband said kindly, "If it's upsetting you this much, I'd like to know."

"It was very," Darcy paused thinking of what word to use, "vulgar."

Jesse looked at her, puzzled. "In this dream," he started slowly, "Was someone hurting you?"

"Yes," her voice was scratchy.

Jesse's eyebrows scrunched together in concern as he hugged his wife closer. His heart ached thinking about anyone hurting his wife. It ached all the more to know that she'd been imagining these sorts of things in her sleep when she had no control. Darcy deserved a peaceful rest after all that she'd been through. She had been working so hard and it frustrated Jesse that these dreams were getting in the way of that.

"I won't ever let anyone do that to you again Darcy." He said firmly, still holding her close. His strong hand was holding the back of her head to his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. The sound momentarily gave her something to focus on instead of the dreams. But, she could feel the guilt clawing at her, trying to get out.

"Jesse?" Darcy's voice was muffled.

"Yes?"

She looked up at him, her lip quivered as if she were about to start sobbing again. "In the dream you were the one who let them do it."

"Them?" Jesse said, alarmed, "Was there more than one?"

"Lots," Darcy conceded shamefully.

Darcy explained what happened in her dream. She omitted no detail. Her heart was pounding still. She knew it was only a dream, but she did not know how her husband would respond to hearing that his wife imagined him to be some sort of monster. After she had finished speaking, Darcy waited for Jesse to say something. She fidgeted nervously with the covers between them, wringing them in her hands.

He took her hands in his. "Look at me."

Her gaze immediately joined his. In the dark, it was hard to make him out, but she could do it if she focused. The light of the moon was pouring in through the window as he spoke to her.

"That is not why I married you. That is not what you're here for."

"Jess-"

"No," He interrupted, "Let me finish."

"You are the love of my life Darcy. I want to protect you and make you feel special. Everything I do, I do to help you. I want to see you grow. I want to see you succeed. You're not some little slut to me. And you're not 'damaged goods'. You're my wife. You're my partner. I need you, Darcy." He paused, "And I want you to hear this. Are you listening?"