January 23, 2022

Amy Gerstein

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Rated: R

There she is, Amy Gerstein, over by the pool, kissing my father. She is a weak woman though I guess she looks sturdy enough. I suppose it won’t be long before my father tests her strength, just as he has with all the others. He will ride Amy Gerstein until she breaks and then he will toss her out like yesterday’s dinner. My father doesn’t do leftovers but I know once he is done with her, there won’t be much left over. He will chew her up, piece by piece until there is barely enough left of her to make a meal. Poor Amy Gerstein, too weak to pull herself free from his gravitational influence, too weak to survive the encounter.

There she is laughing at his stupid jokes, and stroking his stupid arm like he was a puppy that she’s trying to train. Only my father can’t be trained. And by the time she realizes she is prey and he the predator, it will already be too late for poor Amy Gerstein.

Not that I care about her, mind you. As far as I am concerned she deserves everything she has coming to her. Her and her expensive clothes and her expensive shoes and her expensive perfume, prancing around my father trying to mark him with her scent, trying to wrap him around her finger. It is her own damn fault for thinking my father a simpleton, a weak man easily seduced by a woman like her. Easily led by his lust, just as though he were a dog in heat, ready to rut against her leg at the slightest invitation. It is so obviously a script in a story she wrote long ago, back when she was still learning about boys and how easily they could be controlled with just the right amount of interest and just the right amount of innocence.

Only now, watching her over by the pool, it is apparent to me that Amy Gerstein still has the interest but no longer has the innocence. Not that she isn’t trying, mind you. Trying to project that air that wafts off innocent young women like a fragrant spring breeze. Trying to lure my father with her scent and hoping he doesn’t detect the pungent odor of decay that lingers like an aftertaste just beyond the senses.

But I know my father. And I know what Amy Gerstein cannot know, that he is an evil man. A man with no compassion and no compunction. A man who takes joy in plucking innocent flowers from their beds and seeding them with his own filthy essence. Not that he will care that she is not actually an innocent flower. He cares only that he can make her suffer like he had to suffer all those years ago.

Even now, watching him, I can see he is aroused by Amy Gerstein, priming her for the night ahead. If only she knew what he planned to do to her, how he planned to break her. I should warn her. I should tell her that she is the gazelle, soon to be dinner for a hyena. But I don’t like her and I don’t care about her.

Anyway, I tried once. I tried to intervene, to rescue one from his embrace. She had shushed me and shooed me away, and told me to mind my own business. She had told me I was too young to understand the relationship between a man and a woman. She had told me that maybe later, once I had blossomed, I would see that it was perfectly normal for my father to want her and to experience her. She thought she had him leashed and caged and controlled and she didn’t want to hear about the kind of man he was. I liked her but I left her. I left her to find out for herself what kind of man he was.

She’s gone now, gone like all the others. Gone and buried and never to be heard from again. I know ‘cause he makes me dig the hole. Each time. Every time. I dig the hole and I think if only they had known what he had planned. If only they had known that there are just some men in this world who are too jagged and too sharp and too evil to be controlled, to be caged. But I know now that they don’t want to know. I guess there are just some things a person has to discover for themselves. Still, it’s a shame that by the time they make their discovery, the flower is wilted and withered and dead.

So I sit and I watch and I smile at Amy Gerstein, over by the pool, kissing my father. If she only knew that today was her last day and this her last conquest. I bet if she knew she would choose differently. But maybe not. Maybe she does know and she can no more avoid chasing my father than a puppy chasing a stick. I watch her and I think it won’t be long now. My father ignores me and pretends like I don’t see him. See him over there pretending to let Amy Gerstein think she has him where she wants him. Letting her think that she has him leashed. It makes my heart hurt to think what he will do to her. But what can I do? I haven’t blossomed yet. And I know I am safe until I do.

Until then, all I can do is sit here and watch. Poor Amy Gernstein, such a weak woman. If only she knew. I watch as she shrugs off her shawl, adjusts her bikini, and splashes into the water. I watch my father watching her and I know he has decided to break her. And as I watch her take a gulp of air and slip under the water, I think, I better get the shovel. So I get up and walk to the car to wait.

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