SusanJillParker's Non-Erotic Story

Writing is as much your pleasure as it is your torture. Just as did one of your creative writing professors, Dr. Robert Parker, of Spencer for Hire with Robert Urich and Blue Bloods with Tom Selleck, you'll be writing until the day you die. If we could sneak a peek in the life of J K Rowling, a billionairess who can go anywhere at any time and do anything and buy anything, chances are, just like me, she's sitting at her desk writing every day for hours. Being that we're both curse to write and must write to be happy, other than her vast wealth, she'd no different from me in that regard.

* * * * *

Even though unwanted and unsolicited sex has been my ruin, I can't help that I'm sexy. I could wear a black, plastic bag over my body and still look hot. In the way I dress when shopping at Wal-Mart, wearing black, baggy clothes, dark glasses, and a big floppy hat, not only can't I seem to hide my blonde hair but also I can't hide my hot body. I always have a small collection of men following me around the store while staring at me as if I'm their last meal.

I'm cool. Even though I've been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress for all that's happened to me, I'm still able to remain calm when others are losing their heads. When anger overwhelms me, once always launching myself in an angry rage, after years of psychological therapy, I've been able to find some semblance of inner peace through meditation, being and remaining calm, and seeing things for what they are. With most things not very important, whatever is so wrong to make me so very angry will soon blow over.

"Take a breath. Relax. Remain calm. There. How's that? Do you feel better? Now that you're calm and won't miss, you may take aim and shoot him," said my inner voice as I point the gun at his head and pull the trigger for him raping me.

Only, with me being raped seven times by seven different men and physically abused by one, I'd need a gun that had eight, silver bullets with their names etched in the casing.

Ah, revenge is so sweet, when they've forgotten all the bad things they've done to you and they never see you coming.

"And this is for what you did to me decades ago."

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

* * * * *

An odd trait for me to have when few have shown me any consideration, I'm considerate of others. I treat others in the way that I want to be treated. Yet, when being physically or verbally attacked by someone, watch out because I'll unleash my wrath of pent up anger that directly stems from being helpless to defend myself when I was younger. I won't put up with someone trying to take advantage of me. Those days are over.

With all of the physical, emotional, and sexual pain I've suffered in my life, more than most should experience in eight lifetimes, I don't have to know someone to feel their pain and to know that they're hurting. I can see their pain and sorrow in their eyes. Sometimes a knowing look and/or a warm smile is enough to get a stranger out of their funk.

"Hey, did you see that hot blonde? She just gave me the eye and then she smiled at me. I think she wants me, really wants me," said a sad man to his friend after Susan smiled at him.

* * * * *

Something that others haven't been with me, I'm gentle. Instead of attacking someone with accusations for something that they've allegedly done, I wait until I have all of the information before hitting them in the back of the head with a baseball bat.

"And tell me again how your cock accidentally fell in her mouth before falling in her pussy again and again and again, up and down and up and down?"

* * * * *

I'm courageous. I've shown courage by not only suffering the abuse but enduring it. I've been fearless in my ability to not only just get mad at what people have done to me but also to get even.

"Wait! You can't leave me here to die! For better or worse, remember? I promise I won't hit you ever again. I swear to God, I'll never raise another hand to you. Hurry. The grizzly bear is gaining on us. Christ, Susan, if you're not going to shoot the bear, at least shoot me."

"Okay," said Susan shooting him in the kneecap and remaining there for a second to watch the bear pounce on him before running to her car.

* * * * *

I'm an intellectual. After dropping out of high school, without any formal schooling, I not only took the test for the GED exam by just walking in cold and without taking a course and/or studying, but I received a score in the top one percentile. Then, working full-time during the day while going to college full-time at night, even through the summers while my friends were barbequing and having drunken pool parties, I graduated in five years, instead of the 8 years that it normally takes.

Most of those who attended the university at night, never finished. If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth the effort and, indeed, it was hard, very hard. I averaged reading a book a day for five years while earning my degree in English with Literature and Creative Writing minors and graduating magna cum laude with a 3.65 gpa.

My best compliment receive for my writing was when making one of my creative writing professors cry. I was first to turn in my paper and I watched him lower his head and shield his eyes while reading what I had written. If only he knew that what I wrote was more fact than creative fiction, I wonder what he would have said.

"Ah, I feel better. With me not even having to take a happy pill, my life isn't so bad after all. I'm good. It's all good. I go write now."

THE END

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