Only On My Terms

Only On My Terms

A novel by: Kay Taylor

All characters and events in this book, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Other Books by Kay Taylor

Times A’ Wasting

Kloof Estates

Deception

Thank You

A special thanks to my good friend Nat Goodchild. It is he who deciphers the mysteries of downloading onto the internet, finding suitable covers for my books and lastly for been patient when I decide not to communicate with the world.

Kay Taylor

Zurich, Switzerland / Knysna, South Africa

2018

Only On My Terms

ISBN: 978-0-620-78771-0

Synopsis

Rebecca a modern young woman who’s unwavering determination to live her own life is thwarted by age old family traditions and cultural norms. She is resolute and is determined she’s neither going to be controlled nor regulated. She is going to live her own life and follow her own dreams. Unfortunately, family members, her father in particular, believed that Rebecca, been a woman, had no say in her future. The father is head of the household and as for his female children, they will obey. After an extremely traumatic experience Rebecca flees into obscurity only to meet Saul.

He too is fleeing the confines of family traditions and cultural intolerance. Saul has dreams and is equally determined to make his own way in life. Been ostracised by his family he has built a life for himself, a peaceful and placid life and then he met Rebecca. Normality was obliterated, only to be replaced, by chaos and mayhem.

It takes strong wills and dogged determination for their relationship to prosper. Rebecca and Saul, although totally different in culture and family traditions find each other and flourish under the most adverse conditions.

This is a story of love and rebellion, of determination and will power, the conflicts of culture and tradition. Yet, amongst all this turmoil, love finds a way.

Forward

Although the weather had turned decidedly cold Rebecca was glad to get out of the house and do some shopping for her mother. To say the atmosphere at home was a little strained would have been a gross understatement. Her father kept going on about what was she going to do now that she had completed her studies at university. He was firmly of the opinion that she get married as soon as possible and she was to marry the man of his choice. On the subject of getting married her mother was totally mute and it was left to Rebecca to defend her position as she was determined not to marry any of the young men her father had invited into their home. Norman, her older brother had written from prison and told her that it was her duty, as a daughter, to obey all her father’s wishes and that it was time she got married. As for Rebecca, all she wanted, was to be a school teacher.

With a sigh of resignation she turned into her street only to see the car owned and driven by Vile Vicky and or his equally stupid and obnoxious son, parked outside her front door. Rebecca could feel her feet wanting to drag thus shortening her step and prolonging the time it would take to get home. Rather than slow down Rebecca stopped for a moment and composed herself. She was not going to marry anybody. Well, not yet anyway. One thing she was certain of, or should it be two? She would not be marrying that Vile Vicky the widower, and secondly, she would not be marrying his imbecilic son. Rebecca took a deep breath of the salt laden wind chilled air, braced her shoulders, held her head high and marched towards the red painted front door of her home swinging the laden shopping bags in a very cavalier manner.

The first thing Rebecca noticed as she pushed her way inside burdened with her bags of shopping, was her mother, standing at the foot of the stairs staring up towards Rebecca’s bedroom.

I will take those, whispered her mother as she shuffled her way forward, and then pointing up the stairs said, take off your coat and we will have tea in the kitchen.

As Rebecca swiftly mounted the staircase she noticed her bedroom door was closed. Unusual she thought to herself as her mother never ventured upstairs. Because of her bad knees she relied on Rebecca to vacuum and dust the second floor of the family home. Without another thought Rebecca pushed open her bedroom door and immediately noticed the curtains on the window which overlooked the road, had been drawn. While still shrugging off her coat she moved towards the window intent on drawing the curtains back.

Rebecca did not see her attacker but felt his arms encircle her waist and then, with a violent movement, he flung her down onto her bed. Rebecca looked up in amazement. It was her father. Rebecca was about to jump off the bed when her father, utilising his larger size, fell on her and pinned her to the bed. It was then that Rebecca noticed the second man as he stepped out from behind the curtains. It was that Vile Vicky, her father’s best friend.

Quick, gasped her father as he struggled with the small prone form of his daughter pinned to the bed. Vile Vicky needed no second bidding.

He rushed across the room loosening his belt as he came. It was then that Rebecca realised what was about to happen. With a feeling of utter despair she realised that her father must have motivated the rape of his daughter. Rebecca was well aware of the culture of the narrow minded society in which she grew up. In her culture if a man rapes a woman, he is compelled to marry her. The victim on the other hand, had no say in the matter.

Rebecca decided to fight, she was not prepared to get married, least of all to Vile Vicky. She lashed out with her legs and for a brief instant felt the satisfaction of her foot thumping into his stomach. Unfortunately it did not deter him. He slid his pants down past his knees and then he attempted to loosen the fastenings on Rebecca’s slacks. She felt his filthy rough hands slide over her stomach as he blindly searched for a zip. She was not about to tell him it was at the back, instead, she kicked out wildly with her feet hoping to inflict some sort of injury to anybody who got in the way. Vile Vicky gave up searching for the zip and ignored the lashing feet as he tore Rebecca’s slacks off and then tried to force her legs apart.

Rebecca remembered a particular lecture at university. When you are attacked never shout for help. Always shout, Fire. Rebecca did so. She shouted Fire, help fire, at the top of her lungs. She heard her father distinctly swear in the old language as he clamped a hand over her mouth trying to silence her. Rebecca bit the hand over her mouth and then deliberately chewed the flesh between her teeth. Her father howled in pain as he wrenched his hand away. With the restricting hand away from her mouth Rebecca screamed Fire" more several times before her father clamped a pillow over her face.

It was faint but she heard it. The front door burst open and a male voice demanded to know where the fire was. Rebecca’s mother must have been standing at the foot of the stairs staring upwards because within seconds there was a pounding on the stairs and then the bedroom door crashed open.

What’s going on here? bellowed the man at the top of his lungs as he took in the scene before him. Vile Vicky, with his trousers round his ankles, was trying to protect himself from the thrashing legs while attempting to force his way between them. It was obvious to the fire fighter that the two men were trying to rape a woman on the bed.

Rebecca heard a grunt and a thump as Vile Vicky was unceremoniously knocked to the floor where he lay groaning, his hands scrabbling for his belt and trousers. Rebecca’s father let out a howl of pain as he slipped to the floor after the fire fighter slapped him hard across the face. He then opened the bedroom door and unceremoniously heaved the two rapists down the stairs.

The man then turned to Rebecca who was still lying on her bed trying to cover herself with the spare blanket that was at the foot of the bed said, get dressed young lady and by the way, do you have a suitcase?

On top of the cupboard, mumbled Rebecca as she attempted to wipe her father’s blood from her face. What’s going on? asked Rebecca still not fully comprehending the gravity of her new found situation.

Pack the suitcase for at least six weeks holiday, commanded man as he opened the bedroom door and positioned himself on the landing. Rebecca was about to reply when it suddenly dawned on her, this was the man or rather policeman who saved Gorgeous George’s life. Norman her brother had attacked Gorgeous George with the family sword.

You’re Constable…………, whispered Rebecca, I can’t remember your name, thank you for saving me. The memories of those few short years ago came flooding back and Rebeca shuddered at the thought of them. Norman got sentenced to twelve years in prison for his efforts. And as for Gorgeous George, he vanished once his stiches healed and was released from hospital.

Bring your passport, identity documents, drivers licence and those two certificates, said the policeman pointing to the two framed qualifications hanging on the wall.

Do you own a car? asked the policeman. Rebecca nodded her head too bewildered by the recent turn of events to utter another word. Right, he said, pack your clothes and then let’s go for a ride. I’ll drive.

Rebecca’s mind was in turmoil as she packed her suitcase. She put all her personal documents in her leather shoulder bag and stuffed the two framed university certificates in her suitcase.

I’m ready whispered, Rebecca as she clamped her suitcase closed. Tearfully she glanced back towards her open cupboard and was surprised to notice that it was almost bare. Her entire existence was either in her sling bag or in the suitcase. The policeman led the way downstairs and as they reached the bottom stair Rebecca’s father stepped forward and before he could say or do anything the policeman held up his hand and said, don’t even think about it. I know who you are and I’ll be back to arrest you, your wife and your friend.

We did nothing, complained Rebecca’s father, and you are trespassing. Get out of my house, I’m going to lay a charge against you.

The policeman ignored the complaints from Rebecca’s father till he reached the relative safety of the street. He then turned and held up his mobile phone for all to see and said, I recorded the scene as I entered the bedroom. The judge will throw the book at you, rape is twenty five years and then you can join your son in prison.

Two minutes later Rebecca was on her way and she had no idea where they were going. Not that she cared as the realisation of what had just happened dawned on her. Her father had held her down while that Vile Vicky tore off her slacks. Rebecca burst into tears and wildly searched in her handbag for a tissue. Thoughts of her mother only increased the intensity of the tears as they cascaded down her cheeks. She suddenly realised her very own mother was complicit in the attempted rape. She had obviously condoned it. Her mother had merely stood at the bottom of the stairs while her husband was preparing to assist in the rape of their only daughter. I do not deserve this, thought Rebecca as she felt bile rising up in her throat and she fought to keep it down.

At last the tears subsided and an exhausted young woman slumped back in her seat and closed her eyes. The policeman appeared to know where he was going as he weaved his way in and out of the traffic. Eventually the freeway became a single lane and a few minutes later he cheerfully announced, The Sandi Evans Home for Abused Women and Children.

I can’t stay here, exclaimed Rebecca as a wave a panic surged through her body, I have no money or anything. The policeman looked at Rebecca and smiled.

Your stay here will be free. The nurses will look after you and tomorrow I’ll come around and we can have a chat.

What about my father? queried Rebecca, fearful that her father might arrive and demand that his daughter be released into his care.

This is a place of safety, replied the policeman, and let me assure you, it is not only well guarded, but your personal details are never released to either the public or the media and your father will never know where to start looking.

Are you sure, persisted Rebecca, he has already gone one step too far.

Positive, said a smiling policeman as he opened the door for Rebecca