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From: "Stasya T. Canine" <stasyatk9NOSPAMED@juno.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP <*> Lost Innocence part 3 - Shared Strength (MF abuse-recovery(fM-rape fm-rape) )  Stasya T. Canine
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 2006 05:10:20 -0500
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This work is released to the public domain

MF abuse-recovery(fM-rape fm-rape) 
----

Shared Strength
Lost Innocence - part 3
by: Stasya T. Canine
----

It has been a month now.

No nightmares.

Martha and I often wake with our arms wrapped around each other.

Eyes open to gaze into each other's souls.

The miracle of waking to her gentle yet urgent hands teasing me to do
more.

Bodies melting together as at last we truly share the pleasure of
sleeping together.

No nightmares.

Her touch no longer sends Jimmy screaming in pain.  It wakens Jim, her
husband and lover.

No nightmares.

At last, I dare to believe I am free.

As we lie together in shared afterglow, I finally remember my
questions.  'How did she know my nightmare would return to haunt me?'

'What has made her stay through the years of hell I've put her through
as a result?'

Ultimately, I find myself asking...

'What gave her the patience to wait until I was whole?'

Then too, I remember her bitterness the morning she talked about being
coldly seduced.

"Love.  Dear sweet ladymine..."  My voice is soft.

She snuggles closer.

"Just after we got married...  How did you know my nightmares would
return?

"And..."  Here I hesitate.  "What kept you around all these years?
Your life could have been better than the hell it has been."

---

I stiffen.

I've been waiting for Jim to ask me that for years.

Still, the reality of hearing it is hard for me to face.

Sobbing, I turn to him and cling.  Automatically,  (oh sweet bliss.
automatically!) his strong arms enfold me in their comforting embrace
as I cry into his shoulder.

Through the tears, I can only get out...

"I've been there."

Then I collapse entirely as, for the first time since I met Jim,  the
memories overwhelm me.

---

Now it is my turn to stiffen in surprise and shock.

Three simple words

I've.  Been.  There.

Yet put them together and they have layers of meaning for me.

One stark meaning stands clear.

My gentle, caring, loving, *tender* wife is a survivor.

An abuse survivor.

I never knew.  Never even suspected.

In that clear awareness of having finally put my own past behind me, I
can see all the clues I was blind to.

What can I say?  What can I do?

That much is obvious.  What she has said and done for me these many
years.

Gently, I hug her to me.

"Martha.

"My love.

"I'm here.

"It's me.

"Jim."

My voice is soft yet insistent.

Slowly...

Oh so achingly slowly...

I feel her start to relax.

I slowly tighten my embrace.  Once I feel her relax into it, I squeeze
her firmly and hold her trembling body close.

"I'm here...

"I'm here..."

I keep repeating my simple words.  They are a mantra spoken to give
her soul a lifeline to cling to.

After long minutes, her sobbing stops.

---

I spend long agonized minutes reliving my past.  Dimly, I hear Jim's
words.  In my mind, they are mixed with those of my brother those many
years ago.

They are the same ones *he* used when he would find me after.  Or,
years later, he used them when I had one of *my* flashbacks.

Jim's embrace comforts me.  Strengthens me.  Anchors me with his love.

My tears slowly cease and I relax into his arms.  I feel his warm body
next to mine.

It's my Jim this time.  Not those others.  Not my youngest brother.
Jim.  The man I've waited for for all these years.  The man whose
strength I've hoarded and then returned to him as he needed it.

Now, anchored by that strength, I pull back to smile at him.

I know I look a tear-stained wreck but it doesn't matter.

Softly, I whisper, "You said 'I'm here.'

"Yet you wonder what made me stay all these years?

"That's what made me stay for you.  Your compassion, your strength.

"I put up with Jimmy so I could have Jim."

I untangle my arms from around his body and use my hands to cradle his
head.

Ignoring my hair, I bring our lips together and fervently kiss him.
Just feeling his arms around me is arousing.  I want to flush the
painful memories away by losing myself in his embrace.

Reluctantly, I pull away and sigh.

"I've wanted you to know for years.  I always felt I couldn't burden
you with my past while yours was still with you.

I trail my fingers across his chest in an unspoken promise.

I can't look into his eyes any more.

"It was my father and oldest brother.

"My youngest brother was the one who helped me recover after I left
home.

"They used me.  He loved me.  I never told anyone.  Never had therapy.

"It took him three years of patient, gentle loving to bring me back.
The real me.  Not the frightened young girl who hated her body.

"The young girl who saw herself as filthy.  An object to be used by
men to satisfy themselves.

"Yes, my father and oldest brother fucked me.  Used me without
thinking of me as a person.  I was just someone convenient for them to
satisfy their urges.

"They thought nothing of raping me when the urge took them.

"I didn't even get the tenderness that Bill used on you.

"When dad found out I had started my periods, he snuck into my room
and raped me.  Told me he was teaching me what it was like to be a
woman.  Teaching me about sex.

"If mother knew or suspected, she stayed blind to what was going on.

"I moved out as soon as I was of age.

"A year later, Arthur, when he was old enough to leave, came to live
with me.  I welcomed him.

"Many times I'd cried in his arms when he found me after one of them
had taken me.

"Sometimes he'd carried me to the bathroom and helped me clean up.
Gently helped me try to wash away the filth I felt.

"How it must have hurt him to hold me and know that I hated sex.  Once
we were out of the house and living together, he held me when I woke
crying.

"Many times, I would be naked and try to get him to make love to me.
I thought I loved him and wanted to give myself to him.

"He held off for almost a year.  Always said the time wasn't right.  I
wasn't ready.  That I needed to learn more about love.

"What Arthur and I did was technically incest.  What it really was,
was love.

"He taught me to be a woman.  A real woman with wants and needs of her
own.

"He spent years patiently teaching me that I was more than a hole.
That sex could be love.  That it could be tender.  He taught me that I
could share my soul with a man."

---

Finally Martha stops her tale and nestles against me.  Her trembling
has long since stopped.  All that's left now are her quiet sobs.  The
tears of release running down my body to stain the sheet.

I have no words for her.  I suffered once.  She suffered for years.  I
can't begin to imagine what she has learned to live with.

The terrible feelings she must have overcome.  I have always known she
was a strong person.

But this?

This goes beyond inner strength to something mystical.

Then I move on to *how* she recovered.

My mind wants to condemn her for her actions with Arthur.

Ruthlessly, I force the conditioning away.

Finally, after a long inner struggle, I begin to accept what they did.
Ultimately, what they did gave me my wife.

I can't reject what they did without rejecting her.

I make a decision.  As I make it, it feels right.  I know how I would
feel if someone told me Martha wasn't welcome after all she's done for
me.  I can't repay her help by rejecting her brother.

"Next time you see Arthur, tell him he is always welcome here.  That I
thank him for what he did to help you.

"Martha.  Love.  Wife.  Lover."

I hug her again.

"We're together.  We've survived."

---

Wonderingly, I pull away to look in Jim's eyes.

No, there is no condemnation there for what happened.

His acceptance surprises me.

"You would welcome Arthur here?  Knowing he was my first love?

"Knowing that he and I share a bond you and I never will?"

His smile is genuine and unforced.  "Of course.  He took a terrified
girl who had been raped and abused and gave me you.

"Then you gave me back myself.

"I owe him more than I can ever *hope* to repay."

Smiling through my new tears, I kiss Jim again.

This time, we are both crying as we embrace each other.

'Yes.' I think to myself.

'We *are* together.'

'We *have* survived.'
----

Stasya T. Canine
March 3, 1997
---

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