tagRomanceHanging on by a Thread

Hanging on by a Thread


I have taken the advice of numerous commenters and revised this story. I hope that it will be well received.

This story is 2018©️. All names are fictitious and are not intended to represent any place or person, either living or dead. No one in this story is under the age of 18.

This story is not loaded with sex, but if that is not your primary interest then by all means continue to read it, and I hope you enjoy this story.

All comments with a Literotica name and constructive suggestions would be appreciated. Please vote, so the author knows what you thought about the story. Please vote.

Chapter 1

For all of my life, I have been a creature of habit. Six days a week I get up early, and at six in the morning, I drive to a nearby park to begin my run of approximately six miles. I have a two-mile loop that I run three times, and then occasionally I bypass the parking lot and run over the Coosa River Bridge, which is only a quarter mile away and a less than a quarter mile across, just to enjoy the scenery.

Today was just such a day, the right temperature, with the sun only high enough in the morning sky to illuminate the glorious colors of late spring; the view was a thing of beauty. One has to wonder how God created so many different shades of green. Everything was so beautiful that I added the extra half mile to my run on this day. After all, it was nearing the end of the spring term at the university where I teach undergraduates, and I was trying to prepare my mind for packing to make a six hundred mile move to start a new job and new life.

As I neared the approach to the bridge, I spotted a young woman on the walkway near the right edge of the bridge. From that distance and the way she was dressed; wearing light blue shorts and a red halter top, it was easy to see she was indeed a woman. She had all the curves to prove it and the cutest curly blond hair I had ever seen.

She seemed nervous and quite distracted. As I passed her, I said, "Good morning miss," as any polite southern gentleman would do in this part of the Southeast. However, she failed to respond in any way to my greeting. I found this disturbing; my mind reasoning that either thinking straight at that moment, or she wasn't from around here. Perhaps she hailed from a less friendly part of this great country.

I ran on past her, but for some reason, her actions, in general, continued to bother me. I glanced back just in time to see her step up the two feet to the top of the bridge's concrete side wall on the edge of the sidewalk. I was running on the road and not on the sidewalk, so I immediately but quietly made a quick turnaround. I swiftly ran back the fifteen yards to where the lady stood on the railing. I approached her from behind by swinging out widely so she hopefully wouldn't see me approaching.

She leaned forward to jump just as my outstretched arms reached her waist. Somehow I managed to lock my right foot in a drain hole under the concrete railing and locked both arms around her as I used all my strength to gather her to my chest. For the first few seconds, I could hear her screaming "Noooooo." Then I felt her hitting my arms with her closed fists and continuing to yell, "Noooo! Please let go of me I must do this."

A few seconds later, I had her feet on the ground, but I didn't release my firm hold on her. My arm was now wrapped around her at mid-chest just below her bosom, around her flailing arms. I had a strong hunch that if I let go of her, she would finish what she started.

She started crying and shivering although it was not cold, and she was babbling something about not even being able to kill herself properly. I started whispering in her ear saying, "Calm down sweetie, everything is alright, nothing is worth taking your beautiful young life. Just breath and I will try to help you, or I can get you some help." In my mind that meant the police and the crazy ward at the local hospital. I gently started to walk her toward the parking lot and my SUV. I continued to speak to her in a soft, quiet voice saying, "Miss, my name is Todd Sulivan, would you tell me your name?"

At first, she said nothing in reply, but after I repeated the same question a couple of more times, she responded in a shallow voice, almost a whisper. "Todd, my name is Emily, Emily Watson."

I responded, "Okay, Emily now we're making progress. Emily, until the end of this term I am a professor of chemistry at the local university. What do you do?"

She looked me in the eyes for the first time and said, "I am a math major, in my junior year at the university."

"Emily, now that I can better see your face I have to say that you look very familiar. I don't see many curly blond haired ladies as beautiful as you on campus, so you have to stand out among your peers. How are your grades, Emily? Is there a problem at school with one of your classes or classmates that I might be able to help with?"

She shook her head and had a strange look on her face. As we neared my truck, she said, "Professor, my grades are excellent. I work really hard to make perfect grades. Why are you helping me, no one cares if I live or die except that I wouldn't be around for them to use any more?" Her statement scared me to death, and also piqued my interest to know more about this poor girl who thinks she no longer has anything for which to live.

"Sweetheart, did you say you wouldn't be around to be used anymore? Please explain that to me. Who 'exactly' is using you?" By that time I had her in the passenger seat of my truck and wrapped in a lap blanket I keep in the vehicle. I poured her a cup of cocoa from my thermos bottle and waited for her answer.

"Professor, if I told you I would have to go back to that bridge and finish the job I started."

I replied, "I am sorry Emily, but I could not allow that to happen. It would be such a waste if something like that happened to you. After all, we just met."

Not seeing any other cars in the lot I asked Emily, "Where is your car parked?"

She replied, "I rode the bus to the outskirts of town and then walked to the bridge because I don't have a car."

I thought for a good five minutes before I started to speak again because I had a gut feeling that this poor girl was having a lot more than just a rough morning. It seemed to me that she might be involved in some heavy shit. I was now sitting in the driver's seat, and I started asking additional questions. "Emily, I want you to look me in the eyes as I ask you these next few questions, Okay?"

She nodded yes. "Okay, dear girl here goes. Emily, are you being abused by someone?" Her eyes got big as saucers, and without a verbal reply, she just nodded her head yes. "Okay Emily, is it a classmate?" She vehemently shook her head no. "Emily, is it a relative, like your father or perhaps a brother, a cousin, or an uncle perhaps?" Once again she didn't answer except to nod her head yes. "Okay, which one?"

This time she started crying and shaking and said, "Both my stepdad and brother, and sometimes also my mother."

I asked, "Emily, is that your entire family?" Once again she nodded her head yes. I continued, "Emily is it both physical, and sexual abuse?" She nodded her head again in the affirmative.

I was in shock. In all of my twenty-nine years on the earth, I have never heard of a whole family sexually and physically abusing a daughter. So I had to continue with my questioning, as a teacher I am obligated by university policy, and the law to investigate and report abuse of a student of any type. I had to, so I asked again, "Emily, are you being physically abused or sexually abused or both?"

Once again her eyes were as large as saucers, and she replied, "Both by my stepdad and only sexually by my mother and brother. Professor, it is not my mom's fault because my stepfather makes her join him and me sometimes, and my bother just did it one time, last night. That is why I tried to kill myself. I figured if he was also going to be abusing me, then I couldn't live in that environment for another year until I finished school. Life just wasn't worth living any longer." Then she fell apart and started to cry loudly. After a bit, she leaned into my chest for comfort.

Once Emily regained a bit of composure, I started speaking again, "Okay, are you feeling well enough to go on, Emily? Now I know that what I am about to say will probably upset you, but I am a professor at the college, and I am required by the law and university to report any abuse to the police. That means you will have to give a statement and your father will very likely be prosecuted for rape, assault, kidnapping and maybe more. As for your mother and brother, the police with have to decide what to do with them, but I think your brother will be charged with rape."

She started balling her eyes out again and fell onto my shoulder. "Emily, would you like to go to my apartment with me to settle down before I call the police? I know the chief of police because his daughter was one of my chemistry students. I could call and ask him to personally talk to you as a favor to me."

She quieted down a bit after hearing what I had to say. Nodding her head yes, she said, "Professor, I believe I can trust you, and I agree that calming down before speaking to anyone is an excellent idea, but please don"t hurt me."

I must have had a look of surprise on my face when I said, "Emily, I know that you don't know me and that your trust in other humans, especially men, has been truly tested. However, I assure you that I won't harm you in any way. I only want to help you put an end to this horrible situation. I was fortunate to be raised by two loving parents, both of whom treated me with love and kindness all of my life. Therefore, it is tough for me to understand how your father could treat you that way."

Emily also appeared to like the idea of going to my apartment. Since I only lived twenty minutes away, we were in the living room and drinking fresh coffee in thirty-five minutes.

We spent the next two hours getting to know each other better. I discovered that Emily Watson was of English descent as her grandfather moved to America just after WW II, as a world-class wooden boat builder. That explained how he settled in this Southeastern part of America, which was still known for quality hand-built wooden boats.

She had gorgeous medium length, curly blond hair, and the brightest emerald green eyes I have ever seen. Our ancestry was very similar in that my grandfather came to America as a boat builder from England, and was of English and Irish descent. There was always only the one boat builder in our town; therefore, it seemed very likely to me that our families may have known each other at some point in time.

Chapter 2

I am telling this story in the first person so let me go back to a point before I met Emily and relate my personal history a bit before going on to gather more of the information regarding Emily's tragic past.

My name is Todd Sulivan, and I am currently employed by a middle-sized university in a small town in the deep Southeast of the United States, as a chemistry professor. I have a master's degree which I received at another institution. I've been teaching for six years as a graduate assistant at first, and then as an assistant professor of chemistry while working on my doctorate thesis. I recently completed my dissertation on a new chemical processing technique and defended it successfully based on positive test results. I have found a publisher for my thesis document, and the process I developed is currently under patent review, with several companies around the world, interested in its use in their industries.

As a runner, I am built lean and with long muscles. I was on the wrestling team in high school, and on the boxing and cross country running teams in college. But I am by no means an athlete. I do work out at the gym, but I am positively not a bodybuilder by any means. I am six foot tall and weigh one hundred and ninety pounds. I have light brown hair and hazel eyes with a pale complexion reflecting my English and Irish heritage.

I chose to become a teacher despite the relatively low pay and the exorbitant cost of such an education. I was one of the lucky ones that earned a scholarship for my undergraduate work, and then I worked as a paid assistant during my graduate work. However, one doesn't become a teacher to get rich; in my opinion, most do it for the reward of seeing students learn because of your efforts as an instructor.

I believe that my feelings, regarding teaching, are genuine, but it is also my intention to use my education in the public sector to work on new chemical products and procedures that I expect to be financially rewarding to me as the developer. I justify this thinking by the fact that receiving a doctorate in a science or math based program can take eight years to achieve and the costs can be enormous. Combine that with the fact that one does not immediately become a fully tenured professor when you receive your doctorate.

Occasionally, I think to myself that a doctor of medicine can readily make an income many times higher than a college professor with a doctorate. I know that many would argue that this is an unfair comparison, but a person with a doctorate in the sciences going into the private sector to work in pharmaceuticals, or the petrochemical fields has the potential to far out-earn a fully tenured professor. Okay, so enough said on that subject, I will put my soapbox away.

Let's just say that I love the university atmosphere. I enjoy the traditions found at most universities, among these, I especially like sports like collegiate football, soccer, baseball, and basketball seasons.

Running is how I stay in shape despite my somewhat sedentary job. Running every morning and three days in the gym keeps me in excellent condition and also allows me the time to think. Little did I know, that my favorite past-time would lead me to the discovery of a lifetime.

Chapter 3

Once I handed Emily her third cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, I started to ask her a series of questions that I knew the police would be asking once we called them to report this crime. I began by explaining some things and by asking, "Emily, how old were you the first time your father forced you to have sexual relations? Also, if you don't mind me asking a beautiful lady like yourself her age, may I ask your present age, please?"

Emily replied, "Todd, may I call you Todd since you are not one of my professors? By the way, Did you call me beautiful? We both know that is not true."

I said, "Yes, of course, you may call me Todd, Emily. Yes, I did say beautiful, and although you may not realize it now, I am going to make sure you know that you are gorgeous and one of the prettiest ladies I have ever met."

She then said, "You are such a sweet talker, but to answer your question, I was what they call a 'late bloomer' because I didn't reach puberty until I was a young teen. My stepfather started looking at me differently over the next five years, but he never touched me."

With tears running down her cheeks Emily continued, "The first time he raped me was three weeks after I reached my eighteenth birthday. All of a sudden my mother announced that she and my brother were going to my grandmother's house in a different state for four days. That meant that my stepfather and I would be the only ones in the house for four days. I hadn't started work yet, and it was spring break."

Emily continued, "After my mom and brother departed for their trip my stepfather ordered me to stay home and clean my room. My room was always neat and clean, so I knew that he was up to something. He came into my room, and with a really syrupy voice, he said, "Hello my darling stepdaughter, who is now officially a woman, eighteen years of age. I have come to teach you everything you need to know to please a man."

"Todd, he was like a man possessed. I was wearing a tee-shirt and panties that I wore at night to sleep. He didn't remove them; he ripped them off. He literally tore them to shreds and threw them all over my room. Then he started abusing my entire body. He put his hands around my throat and squeezed until I blacked out for a few minutes.

After I came to, he had me over his knee and started beating my ass for having a messy room due to the shredded clothing all over the floor. After about thirty or forty spanks with his open hand, I was crying hard, and my bottom hurt. No one had ever struck me before. He flipped me over on his lap and stuck two of his fingers in my pussy and started to masturbate me. I kept yelling that I was a virgin and that he shouldn't do that to me. He forced me to have an orgasm in about ten minutes; it was my first. I'm embarrassed to say that it felt good and I lost control of my senses. Todd, I really didn't want to, but I squirted cream all over the place. That's when he told me that I must have enjoyed what he did. Todd, he had blood on his fingers, and he licked them right in front of my face. I almost puked."

Emily continued, "I think my mom had some idea of what was coming because the week before I turned eighteen she took me to the doctor's office for an exam and prescription for birth control pills. Honestly, the thought of having my stepfather's baby made me sick."

Emily started sobbing uncontrollably, so I just held her close to me until she fell asleep in my arms for about an hour. After she awoke from her brief nap, she looked up at me and smiled. I offered her something to drink, and she sipped on a glass of water. Emily said, "Professor, I mean Todd, I would like to go on if you don't mind."

I told Emily to continue anytime she was ready.

She started speaking again, "My stepdad didn't care how much it hurt me, all he wanted was to satisfy his needs, and he didn't care how he treated me at all. He came back to my room for two more days and nights until my mother returned home. I lost count of how many times he raped me that weekend. I do remember that I was so sore that I had trouble urinating for days. He threatened to kill me if I told my mother or anyone else. I cried myself to sleep for a week."

She sipped her water and then continued, "My stepfather didn't come back to rape and abuse me again until I was about to graduate from high school a few months after his first attack."

"I will remember that night till the day I die. In fact, it lasted for two full days and nights only one week before I graduated from high school. Once again he sent my mother and my little brother John to my grandmother's house. I overheard the argument with my mom about leaving me alone with him. I think she saw me crying in my room and all the bruises after his first rape. The week before he raped me the first time he lost his job at the boatyard and started drinking all of the time so that by early evening he was stewed to the gills. When he is that drunk he gets mean, he goes out of his mind sometimes. I am not even sure he remembers everything he does when he is that drunk. My mother, Bonnie, is terrified of him and I could see the fear in her eyes as she and my brother left the house."

Emily had fat tears running down her cheeks, and I suggested that we take a break for a while. However, she said, "No, please let me finish this part of my story."

I just said, "Okay, go on with the rest of the story."

"My mother and brother left just after breakfast that Friday morning and my stepdad started drinking. I tried to stay away from him by reading a book in my bedroom with the door closed. We didn't have locks on our doors so I couldn't keep him from coming into my room. He would have just knocked the door down anyway. It was late evening as I was about to go to bed when I heard my bedroom door open, and my stepdad's clumsy footsteps heading for my bed."

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