("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: country.txt (mf-teens, nc, rp, drugs, alcohol, v) Authors name: Ximenes (ximenesgreek@yahoo.cp.uk) Story title : Country Life -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Country Life by Ximenes (ximenesgreek@yahoo.cp.uk) *** Three cautionary tales from small-town England. (mf- teens, nc, rp, drugs, alcohol, v) *** You won't find Chesil Regis on a map, but it exists, oh it exists. The typical dysfunctional English small town. It's on the South Coast of England, a small market town where seagulls wheel overhead and locals fight tooth and nail to prevent any new development happening near their bungalows. A place where people from the big cities come on holiday for a fortnight in July or August. They look at our heritage coast and they forage for fossils on the beach. They look at our cliffs and seascapes, our green rolling hills and old, thatched cottages. A place where they think "this is where I'm going to retire". And then they do move down to Chesil when they pack up work and sell their properties at inflated prices to yuppy wannabies. So what's it like for the youngsters who live in Chesil Regis? It's dire. Low pay, seasonal employment, lack of employment in anything except service occupations drives them all away at eighteen. Chesil is a community of the young, the middle aged and the retired, with a yawning black hole in the 18-30 age range. It's Friday night, around 11p.m. The town centre is taken over by the teenagers. They've come in from the villages from miles around because life in the villages is even more boring than in town. They've come by bus, taxi, by parents. Some will sleep over at friends' houses; some will call taxis or phone their parents for lifts home. Many have no strategy for getting home at all, and will take their chances when things in Chesil slow down late at night. All the oldies have retreated home, to telly or dinner parties or an early night in bed. Police presence is minimal - a couple of special constables on foot patrol and a car or two covering the West of the county. If there's a big disturbance they'll have to call for reinforcements, and these will take up to an hour to arrive. So forget the forces of law and order. Who am I? I am spirit. I float, invisible in the sky, over the town. I see everything and everyone. I know all their backgrounds, their motivation and their fears. I'm omniscient, untouchable. I watch as the drama unfolds. LOUISE Look, here is Louise. Just eighteen, and out with her new boyfriend, Keith. Keith is a university student; his term doesn't start for another fortnight. He's been going out with Louise for a month, and tonight is the first time her parents have trusted them to go out together in a car. They've had to say where they were going, and have a strict curfew to keep. Louise comes from a very Christian family; her father is a lay preacher. She is attractive rather than beautiful, but totally clean, decent and wholesome - the kind of girl we all wish our daughters to be. She rarely drinks and never gets drunk. But tonight she is woozy and groggy and Keith has to support her as he takes her towards his car to get her home. What Louise doesn't know is that this boy she trusted, who said all the right things to her mum when he picked her up; this boy spiked her drink when she went to the rest room. Now Louise is rapidly losing awareness of where she is and what's happening to her. Which is what Keith intends. Oh, he'll take her home eventually, but on the way he's going to have some fun with her. Preferably with her agreement. But he'll have his fun whatever way. They get in the car and drive out of town, stopping in a layby screened by trees. Keith has chosen it carefully. But Louise is out of it: Keith has misjudged his quantity of spike, and his mistake will save Louise's virginity tonight. Louise's dress has a high neck, with buttons down the front. The car stops and Keith leans across to kiss her. She kisses back, but tells Keith she feels sick. Keith doesn't register her protests - this is his big moment. This is what he paid for when he bought the spike. Now he's totally focussed on getting intimately acquainted with Louise's body. All she's allowed him to do so far is cradle her breasts outside her clothes. But Keith's an impatient boy, and her combination of promising curves and obvious decency is a challenge he can't resist. He fumbles to undo Louise's buttons. She tries to stop him, but her brain is too foggy to be forceful and in any case, deep down, she wouldn't mind him exploring her breasts. Keith finishes with her buttons and lifts her breasts out of her bra. Louise is fighting back waves of nausea and waves of blackness. Her higher levels of consciousness want Keith to stop, because she's not enjoying herself and she's dimly aware that they're "in public"; her more basic consciousness wants him to carry on and make love to her. Keith is surprised to find her breasts slack and limp - he knows they should be taut and firm because that's how they were when Louise let him feel them, from outside her clothes, as they kissed in the car on the way into Chesil earlier that evening. Disappointed, he goes for the big prize. Clamping his mouth over Louise's for a deep kiss, he reaches down and lifts up the hem of her dress. That's the point at which Louise finally loses it and vomits copiously all over her clothes, over Keith's parents' car, over Keith's designer jeans and trainers. Because Louise has always been prone to car sickness since she was a little girl, and the alcohol, rather than the spike, has caused her to be sick from the motion of the car as they started driving home. Now Louise has vomited so much she is dehydrated, and shivering with shock. Numbly, Keith realises that he's gone from being master of the situation to being in serious trouble. Even though Louise is totally helpless and vulnerable to him, even Keith realises he's lost his chance. He needs to get her home. Angrily he slams the car into gear and winds through the lanes, thinking up an excuse to explain Louise's condition to her mum and dad. Louise will face furious parents, convinced that she'd drunk to excess and betrayed their trust in her. Louise will refuse to see Keith because she's convinced that she'd shown herself up in front of him. And in a couple of weeks Keith will go back to University and won't ever invite Louise out again. Only weeks later will Louise suspect that one bottle of alcopop wasn't the cause of her disaster, and a friend will suggest the real cause. And she'll never know how close she came to being date raped. BECKY Becky is only fourteen, but is a big girl - tall, broad, and heavily built with the body of a mature woman. She's out on the town with her mates Charlotte and Tracey-Ann. They're too young to be let into a pub, so they rely on older boys to get them drink. They sit in the park, on the swings or see-saw in the children's play area. Becky used to live with her mum, but the rows became constant and were upsetting her little sister. So Becky moved into Chesil with her grand parents. They are elderly, well-meaning people who do their best for Becky but have no idea what she gets up to when she's out with her friends at night. They know Becky won't come home till well after midnight, and sometimes not at all. Becky tells them, on these occasions, that she's slept over at Charlotte's or Tracey's, and the grandparents take her at her word. The three girls like to get drunk, and trust that between the three of them they'll always be able to look out for each other. They always stick together and in a fairly public place and never get into cars with boys or go into boys' houses. That what - so far - has kept them safe. Tonight they're all three drunk. Becky is loud and coarse. They're sitting on a park bench. Under the bench are several empty lager cans. Around the bench are the four older boys who've been buying drink from the off- license. Only one boy is eighteen, having to show his driving license as proof of age each time he buys more drink because the shop owner recognises him each time he comes to the till and suspects he's buying alcohol for others. Becky is wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt with a very low scoop neck. Her bra is minimal, and when she sits facing the boys, leaning forwards, on the park bench, they can see virtually the whole of her breasts, like a couple of ‚clairs in lacy baking cases. If the boys close in for a grope, the girls are usually nimble at wriggling out of their reach and re-grouping. But this time the boys have done some planning and got themselves a strategy. And this time Becky stumbles on a lager can as she gets up to move, and falls at one of the boys' feet. Seeing his chance, he reaches down and lifts her tits out of her top, squeezing them and yelling to his mates as he pulls her to her feet by her melons. Becky is furious. She's lost face, and losing face isn't in her game plan. She's got an anger management problem at the best of times. She lashes out and slugs the boy in his face - he can't protect himself in time because he is still holding onto his prizes. He turns away under more blows and a barrage of foul language loud enough to be heard through the bedroom windows of houses adjacent to the park. (But those with open windows have heard it all before and don't stir. And most have closed, double-glazed windows, so there could be full scale rape and massacre going on outside their manicured gardens and they'd never know). Becky stumbles away from the boy, stuffing her tits back into her top as best she can. He pursues her, cheered on by his mates. He's lost face through being hit by a girl (he's so used to the bad language it doesn't register with him). He catches up with Becky, takes her from behind round her waist and pushes her tits out again. Becky is really angry now, but realises she isn't strong enough to fight him off indefinitely. His mates have come between her and Charlotte and Tracey, so that Becky's mates can't reach her to help her. That was the boys' strategy, and it's working fine. Becky instinctively goes for her back-up plan: to make for a short path, which comes out in Chesil's High Street. Here there will be lights and probably people too, and she will be able to seek safety and re-group. This sort of problem has happened to her many times before, but somehow this particular boy doesn't seem right, and she's genuinely worried as well as absolutely furious with him. She kicks backwards, aiming for his groin. She misses, but hits his leg hard enough for him to wince and for her to get free. As she stuffs her top back into its tee shirt she swears non stop at the top of her voice and goes to kick him again. Bad mistake. He grabs her from the ground in a rugby tackle and brings her down. Pinning her down under his weight, he struggles to lift her t-shirt off. Becky is now really frightened. If he succeeds in pinning her down he'll take her, and she doesn't want that. Despite all appearances she is still a virgin (well, just about), and above all she knows that when she's fucked she wants it to be on her terms. And it's not in the park, in public, on a chilly night, with her mates watching and a trio of mindless idiots gawping at her pubes. At last she manages to throw him off, and a lucky kick finds his stomach. Her t-shirt is still on, but bunched around her armpits. Her bra strap has broken in the tussle, and trails behind her. So far she's been lucky. She runs as fast as she can through the cut towards the High Street. Behind her she can hear Charlotte and Tracey telling her to get away, and the other boys jeering at her assailant. He is back on his feet and coming after her. Her tits are swinging wildly as she runs; it is uncomfortable and he's gaining on her fast. She runs out into the High Street and aims for the brightly lit launderette across the road. She is too panicked to look for traffic, and four paces into the road she collides with Dora who is in her car, on her way home from a play rehearsal in Chesil's Arts Centre. Becky is lifted up onto the cars bonnet; her arm breaks as it takes her full weight against the windscreen, shattering the screen before Becky drops in a heap onto the cold tarmac. After the sickening thump, there's the squeal of brakes and then a silence. The boy turns tail and flees. He's breaking his probation order by being anywhere near Chesil, and the last thing he wants is to face the police. He's not in the slightest concerned about Becky. She's not his problem. The other boys get away as fast as they can, too. Charlotte and Tracey reach the scene of the accident just as Dora, shaky, ashen faced and close to hysteria, nerves herself to open her car door and see what damage she has caused. Becky is alive, bloody, concussed. Her arm is badly broken and the shock of the impact is just fading into pain. She has landed on her back. Her t-shirt is still bunched above her breasts, which loll around in full view as she writes in pain. Instinctively, Dora bends down to cover her up. She is even more in shock herself at the thought of an impact so severe it has ripped the clothes off a young girl. Becky's fuddled mind registers the touch of another hand on her, but not that her tits are being covered up. She thinks it's the boy on top of her again. She thinks he's lifting off her top before he yanks her jeans down and... She lashes out with her good arm and swears disgustingly at the figure looming above her. Dora recoils, bursts into tears, appalled and terrified at such foulness coming from someone so young. Dora is on the verge of collapsing. Tracey dials a 999 on her mobile; she's so shaky that it takes her two goes to get it right. It takes ten minutes for the police to arrive and twenty for an ambulance. Becky is fading into and out of consciousness. Other teenagers, hearing the screech of brakes, run to see what has happened. They stand around, jeer at Becky or sympathise with her, and jibe at the police and ambulance men. Someone starts a rumour that she tried to flash her tits at a car driver, and the driver drove into her in revenge. The rumour is all round the young people in town within fifteen minutes, and will stick with Becky for as long as she lives in Chesil. Becky will recover, but she won't learn. She's back the following Friday night with her arm in plaster. Drinking just as much as before, but more covered up in the way she dresses. The boys give Chesil a miss for a couple of months until they think everyone's forgotten. Most have, but Becky keeps grudges and there's definitely a score to settle for her. TINA While all the drama above has been going on, Tina has been inside a pub. She's only 15, and the publican knows it. But Tina's parents run a bar-cum-restaurant in a village out of town, and all the publicans in the area know each other and their families. Tina is given special dispensation by the publican to be in the bar. It's illegal, but what the police don't know won't do them any harm. And the publican reckons she's probably as safe in his bar as she is outside of it. 'Cos Tina's parents work long hours, every evening, in their bar. And that's the problem. Tina is a very disturbed girl. She craves attention and doesn't get it. She cuts her arms, but her parents are too busy trying to make the business pay to have time to spend with her. They love her, but are simply too busy to give her much time. There are a couple of relatives and close family friends living in Chesil, and Tina quite often stays over at their places - to the extent that her parents are often not sure where she is. Each parent assumes Tina has told the other where she's staying tonight. Tina has more freedom than she wants, more than she can cope with. Tina is an alpha female. The other girls are afraid of her. They either totally avoid her, or seek to ingratiate themselves with her. Tonight she's with Kelly and Katie in the pub. Kelly is fifteen. She's out of the house, away from mum and mum's new boyfriend. Mum had Kelly at sixteen; now she's thirty and afraid of being middle aged. She's always smoked dope, but the new boyfriend is on to much stronger stuff. Kelly's mum hasn't had a man living with her for a year or so, and is desperate not to lose him. Kelly's well into the Chesil drugs scene herself. The dope and coke at home doesn't bother her. No, it's the sex that gets to her. The sound of her own mum - her fucking mother, for God's sake - having orgasms evening and morning through the thin walls of their flat. And last weekend the boyfriend pushed Kelly against the wall as they passed on the stairs. Groped her tits thoroughly as he passed. Mum was in the kitchen. Nothing was said, but Kelly knew the prick was sizing her up and trying to make up his mind whether to abandon the mother and go for the daughter. Kelly has never known a dad. Her mum is the only little bit of stability she has. If this prick tries to drive a wedge between them she'll go for him. She carries a wicked, sharp little knife in her bag, specially for him if he tries again. Katie's parents separated a couple of years ago, and it's been hard for her mum. There's a younger brother, who adores his big sister. Katie's mum works hard to earn a decent wage (and is at the other end of the spectrum from Kelly's mum, who lives on handouts, a bit of dealing and the occasional shoplifting and reckons ordinary jobs are for morons). She keeps the house spotless. Katie was a model child until she hit puberty and wanted to be one of the cool crowd. Unfortunately, the coolest person living close to her and in her class at school was Kelly. Now Katie is rude and rebellious, obnoxious to her bewildered little brother, and getting into big trouble at school. She left her mum in tears as she flounced out of the house this evening, slamming the door. But it's Tina who is the victim in this story. She hates everyone in authority. She hates all rules and breaks them as a matter of principle. Whatever Kelly and Katie do, Tina will go further. She's not really into boys. Boys are trouble. They want things from her. But she lives for what she can get from others. The girls are sitting on a sofa in the darkened video lounge at the rear of the pub. It's hot and smoky, with the pungent scent of spliffs mixing with the acid smell of beer. The girls are drinking Cokes, but both Tina and Kelly have got half bottles of vodka from home and have been adding them to their drinks. Katie's had plenty, too, but not as much as the others. By ten o'clock all three are drunk, but the warmth and comfort of the lounge lulls them into a false sense of security. Then a bloke Tina knows sidles up and whispers into her ear. Money changes hands, quite openly, and Tina has a white tablet in her mouth. It's Ketamine. It's a veterinary anesthetic and very dangerous mixed with alcohol. Tina's tried it once before, from this same man, but when she was sober. She doesn't know what it'll do when combined with the drink she's had. She's not really aware of how much drink she's had - OK, so her vodka bottle is empty, but Katie and Kelly had a good bit of hers. And, anyway, Tina wouldn't care if she did know the risks. Kelly knows all about Ketamine. She knows she's got to get Tina home, and fast. She drags Tina to her feet, and all three girls leave by the back door of the pub. Katie doesn't want to go; she's watching the video and doesn't understand that Tina's in danger. So she and Kelly have a loud and lurid argument on the street. They decide to walk Tina to her cousin's place, because it's nearest. Kelly hasn't a clue where Tina was due to spend tonight, but the cousin's flat is as good as any other place. All three girls are loudly drunk, and they attract a lot of attention as they pass the youth club, proud to know they're drunk and everyone can see so; getting admiring glances from classmates at school. Kelly and Katie don't notice that Tina's getting quieter, and that she's much more wobbly on her feet than they are. But Shaun does. He's been thrown out by his partner. He lost his temper and hit her while she was holding their baby. She flew at him and nearly scratched his eyes out and then pushed him out of the door. Shaun's cold, hungry, and in a foul temper. He's sitting in his work van, smoking, trying to find enough loose change to buy chips before everywhere shuts. He sees the three and thinks, nice legs (Katie), very good tits (Kelly), and I wouldn't kick that wobbly one in the middle out of bed, neither. He's about to get out of the van and try his luck with the girls when two boys, about sixteen years old, clatter past on their skateboards and stop at the girls. A conversation ensues. Tyrone is a friend of Kelly's. They were sweet on each other back at primary school and have maintained an on- off relationship ever since. Kelly wouldn't dream of going out with him now - with her body in peak condition she'd go for twenty somethings with smart cars and well filled wallets. But she's pissed off with Tina tonight. She's got enough hassle at home and doesn't want all the explanations to Tina's cousin about why she's in such a state. She wants to get home and sneak into bed and lock her door before mum's boyfriend can "accidentally" barge in while she's changing. She trusts Tyrone, and anyway she's got her knife. So she leaves Tina with Katie and disappears up the leafy, well-lit avenue with Tyrone and his harmless mate. All this is closely noted by Shaun. Tina and Katie are leaving the main part of the town, into an area (Chesil's too small to have suburbs) of big houses set down long driveways from leafy hedges. Streetlights are few and far between. Tina is barely able to move, and is rapidly losing consciousness. But there is a seat on the roadside, a favourite among elderly people who sit there at sunset and watch the colours fade over the hills. Katie manoeuvres Tina onto the seat. Her cousin's place is only a few hundred yards away, but she'll need to get the cousin to help her move Tina. There's a quick way across a field, but Katie is frightened of crossing a pitch dark field, and there might be horses in the field - Katie's terrified of horses. So she takes the long way round, following roads with streetlamps. It takes her twice as long. It takes a long time to persuade Tina's cousin to put her coat and shoes on and help move the girl. The cousin has been called to rescue Tina before, and was not amused when she threw up over her new carpet. Why can't her bloody parents do their job? By the time the two women reach the seat, Tina has gone. The cousin is angry. Katie's embarrassed. They search the hedges around the seat in case Tina has lurched somewhere and fallen, but there's nothing to see. The cousin goes home, across the field. Katie feels sure that things don't add up - how could Tina be incapable of walking, then just disappear? Katie's had too much to drink to think rationally. Perhaps Tina phoned on her mobile and has been picked up? Perhaps Tina will blame Katie for abandoning her on the seat, and there'll be one Godalmighty row on Monday. Miserably, Katie heads off home. Tina, of course, is in the back of Shaun's van. She's out cold. Shaun drove after them, quietly, and stopped when he saw Katy put Tina on the seat. He guessed what was happening, and saw Katie disappear up the well-lit road. Checking time and again for onlookers, Shaun cruised up to the seat. It took less than ten seconds to stop, get out, go round to the back, open the door, scoop Tina off the seat and into the van, shut the doors and drive off. Shaun leaves Chesil Regis behind him and heads down a lane. He turns left down a track, and left again across a field, down to where there are some horseboxes. The van, dark blue, blends with the night and is invisible from the road. His erection is growing, but he manages a comfortable piss in some nettles, then opens the back door of the van and climbs in. Tina's lying in the same position he left her; her skirt has ridden up to expose thighs still plump with baby fat. But that's a finesse lost on Shaun. That stupid cow back in Chesil has thrown him out, and all he did was lose his rag. Serves the bitch right if he shags someone else for a change. He spreads a couple of blankets across the floor of the van, to keep his clothes clean and himself comfortable. There's a dim interior light in the van which gives him plenty of illumination. He yanks Tina's boots off. She doesn't resist. He undoes her trousers, carefully, and slides them down and off. Creamy, white legs rise up to a black band where her knickers lie. Knickers follow jeans, carefully placed on a plastic sack so that his hairs and clothing fibres won't fall on them. Tina's legs are tightly together, but the dense curls of pubic hair point the way to where Shaun wants to go. Excitedly, he pulls her knees apart, and her vagina is open to him. Tina's head is tilted up and she's making snuffling, choking sounds. Shaun turns her head aside. Doesn't want her looking at him. Might recognise him. In a panic he switches off the light and fumbles his way out of his jeans. His tool is rock hard with arousal. Twat here for the taking. Underage twat, too. Might be a virgin.. All this is too much for Shaun to handle. He tugs Tina towards him, pulls her knees upwards and outwards and with one arm holds her legs back while with the other he pulls her lips apart and thrusts in, hard. Three or four jerks and he's all the way in, anchored in her womb. She wasn't a virgin after all, but she's young and tight. Best of all, she's not asking him to do things right for her, not like that stupid tit back in Chesil. Thinking of tits, he gropes Tina's, but they're too small and too soft for him. He doesn't even bother getting them out of her shirt. Shaun comes quickly and copiously, spraying Tina's womb with his semen. He finds a can of lager behind a toolbox and drinks while he recovers. Tina is still out cold. She has no idea, yet, that she's been fucked. Shaun has another thought. His partner won't let him fuck her arse. Shit, all the things he's read on websites talk about blow jobs and anal jobs, and the women always seem to like them. Just need a bit of persuading, that's all. Just 'cos his silly bitch is too frigid to let him. After all, it's more or less his right as a bloke.. Tina gets flipped onto her front and her soft, round, plump buttocks lifted for inspection. In the dark, the little black pucker of his target is just visible. Shaun is hard and excited again. It takes a long time to get in, much pulling of flesh, and pushing so hard it hurts. The sphincter is so tight it almost skins his prick. But then he's in, and it's lovely. He stirs, prods, tries not to think about the shit his prick is enveloped in, and in due course comes again. He wipes his prick on his jockey shorts and finishes off his beer. He opens Tina's jaws - they open easily enough and she is dribbling from the corner of her mouth, and slides his prick in. His partner will reluctantly give him a blow job when she's on her period, but has always refused to deep throat him. Tina can't refuse him. He lunges forward. She gags. He pushes home and feels his prick pass her tonsils. For a few seconds it is wonderful, the best sexual experience he's ever had. Then he's aware that Tina is choking, and the choking gets worse until he finally removes his weapon. Tina is hovering very close to death. Her breathing is interrupted, even without the fleshy obstruction in her airway and throat. Her muscles relax and she pisses herself inside the van. Shaun feels the warm trickle and puts the light back on. He's frightened by what he sees. Tina is ghostly white. There are flecks of blood and shit around her mouth. More blood and cum, lots of it, are caked on her thighs and legs. Shaun thinks she actually has died. In a blind panic he opens the rear doors, pulls Tina out and dumps her alongside a horsebox. He shakes her trousers and knickers carefully, to remove incriminating hair, and throws them besides her. The he drives away without his lights on, misjudges the hedge along the track and scrapes paint off his wing. He only puts the van lights back on when he enters the built-up part of Chesil. Tina has a miraculous escape. She slumps over, forwards, and her head turns so that her airway stays open. It's a cold night, and just before dawn she begins to stir. By the time it's light she's become aware of the horrible things that have happened to her. She realises that she's been raped, vaginally and anally (her arse is too sore to sit properly), and the taste of shit in her mouth forces her to accept that something even more revolting has been done to her. Her head's splitting with the after effects of vodka and Ketamine. But the immediate problem is that she's not sure where she is. She wipes herself off with her knickers, and puts her trousers on as best she can. She's shivering with cold and is deeply chilled. By the time she arrives at school on Monday, her son will have been conceived from Shaun's sperm. And she'll also have the herpes (care of Shaun) and the chlamydia (care of Shaun's partner, via Shaun), which will affect her for years to come. The last thing she can remember is leaving the pub with Kelly and Katie. She can't remember Kelly leaving, let alone Katie. She has absolutely no idea who has done this to her, or how she has come to end up in this field. Her first thoughts are all about Police and revenge. But as she staggers up the lane and sees the welcoming houses of Chesil Regis, she realises that she can't. Too many questions to answer. She retrieves her mobile and phones home, trying to sound insouciant and on top of everything. Dad sounds preoccupied; he's already up, cleaning the beerpumps and washing down the floor. He'll get across to Chesil in an hour or so. Meet him at the traffic lights. Tina sits on her bed, carving deep red gashes in her arm with a razor. She let her friends know she was pregnant. Told them it was planned. Told them it was a boy she'd met on holiday. Told them she was lined up for a council flat, away from mum and dad. They were well impressed. You could say they were in awe of her. It felt good. Then she miscarried. Too bad that everyone said "it was for the best, really". Now she's locked into the downward spiral of self loathing and self harm from which there's only one exit. "Chesil Regis. In the heart of the West Country. Clean air, unspoilt views, safe beaches. Come and spend your holiday among the friendly faces of Chesil. You can be sure of a warm welcome as you soak up the atmosphere on a summer's evening." END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 26