Lies And Consequences Collection

Chapter 11-2

Done too much in the garden over the weekend, I think“He lifted my nightdress and with his other hand pushed his prick inside of me, tearing me apart!”

“Be a good girl and I"ll be good to you. Be a bad one and I"ll rip your head off then burn your body before anyone notices that you"re gone!”

He was a lot stronger than a boy and more determined than they had been. There was nowhere to hide for her and no early escape from what occurred nor, as she was vehemently told, future beatings and punishment if Imelda ever found out.

future beatings and punishment if Imelda ever found out.“It will be our little secret, or I will tell Imelda that you forced yourself on me. No one"s going to believe you; you have bad history, girl. Be sweet to me and I will be sweet to you.”

Twice more he visited her bedroom that day, and several more times during the next two he took off from work with that sore back. Fianna was condemned to her fate until late on Wednesday night when she was awakened by a silent Imelda with a soft finger, instead of Keith"s stinking hand across her lips.

“I haven"t got loads of money, my child, but what I can spare I"m going to give to you. I think I know what"s happening here with you and him and it"s not right. I"m not strong enough to stop him and neither are you, my child. I can"t let it all come out. I"m too old to start all over again on my own. I"m a coward at heart, you see, and couldn"t stand the scandal. I"m sorry, but you will have to leave, and I have no idea where you can go.”

* * *

“That"s when I found my animal, Shaun, and I took centre stage in his jungle. I travelled to Newry, to a sect I"d heard off on the fringes of the city. It took days to get there, but the hope of finding some peace drove me on and kept me going. They were not a religious group as such, more a free thinking lot where the church played no part. They believed, so they said, in looking after each other in the cruel world of commerce and world politics. Their motto was; from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. I didn"t know it was a Communist slogan and if I had known it would have made no difference, as those words appealed to me as if they had been written with me in mind. Jack was not there but possibly he got that silly phrase of his; no one is more important than each, from them, or the Russian in Vienna. Only I hope his words are more sincere than theirs.

At first I was welcomed with open arms, they genuinely seemed to want me, but it wasn"t so much me as my money they wanted. Imelda had given me about thirty quid, which was a fair bit of money in those days, especially for a fourteen-year-old to be carrying. Their philosophy of one for all and all for one stretched into everything they did, including the share of work and wealth. Me, the silly fool that I was, believed in every word they said. I gave them what I had left, leaving myself no option but to rely on their generosity and skill in providing. I was a long way off of being wise in those days, Shaun. We all lived on a farm owned by the leader of the group, a man named Donegal Fitzpatrick. He seemed a lovely man at first. The tall, dark, handsome type you read of in magazines and see at the picture houses. A Clark Gable kind of figure! Yes, no need to look so quizzical, I hadn"t been put off men at that time in my life and you can draw whatever conclusions you like from that.

The spring and early summer were okay, with the dozen of us who were there finding plenty to do around the farm, but come late July all that changed, and not for the better. There were eight men, aged between twenty and forty, not counting Donegal, and four of us women. I was the youngest, with the other three in their late twenties and early thirties. Two were sisters apparently, but none told me their surname. I was told to call them Kelly, Ruth and Philippa. They did all the cooking and most of the trips into Newry, driven there by Donegal in his car.

I thought that although we were almost self-sufficient those journeys were to buy the stuff we couldn"t grow on the farm like tea and coffee, but that wasn"t all they went for. Fitzpatrick was no glamorous film star, he was a sordid pimp, Shaun. And the men; they were his enforcers, if he had the need of them. This I found out in the third week of that nonstop rain-sodden July when I"d just passed my fifteenth birthday. Donegal took me along with the other three women one Friday night to begin my career as a p********e. I took to it like a duck to water at first, but then I guess I was lucky in the punters he found for me. It was not only in Vienna that the men favoured the young!

Ruth was not so lucky one night. The man she was with took back his money and slashed her across the face with a switchblade knife. Donegal and his men found that man later. They left him with both knees broken after beating him with pickaxe handles. So, Shaun, I"ve had plenty of men, knowing how to pleasure them whilst giving them the impression that I was enjoying it, but I was not. As I told you; I"m good at playing roles. A born actress. How good are you?”

“Were you playing at love when you fell for that Donegal, Fianna?”

“I didn"t have to play at it, Shaun. He made me feel safe and wanted. That must be strange for someone like you to understand. I doubt you"ve ever been confused by life and certainly not used as I was. There you have me; a murdering w***e full of evil and lacking affection for men as well as having no common sense.”

“So, apart from murdering a priest what else have you been up to in the remaining unaccounted-for ten years, Fianna?” I asked.

“You wouldn"t want to know, Shaun, believe me on that one.”