Connie McCowen_(1)

Thump, thump, thump, thump. The deep bass rattled the windows of young Connie McCowen’s bedroom. “Fuckin’ a” she swore under her breath as she rolled over in her bed unable to fall asleep. Click, she heard her clock mark the time as 11:18, between the obnoxious bass of the drunk asshole down the streets stereo. “Damnit, I have a test tomorrow!” Then she heard the sound of her mother’s voice calling her name from the living room. It wasn’t unexpected as there was no way her father was actually going to deal with this, that is if he wasn’t already passed out drunk himself.
She climbed out of bed and slipped on her shorts under the t-shirt that she normally slept in, and flip flops. Sure enough, the old man was passed out in her chair when Connie got into the living room. She looked with hatred at the half full beer can perched on his bloated belly, ready to fall at any moment. “Can’t we just call the cops”, she asked of her mother, already well aware of her answer. Emmett was dad’s friend and there was no way that she’d make that call.
“Just go and turn the stereo down”, her mother said wearily, “by now he’s as dead to the world as your father.”
Connie was pissed as she grabbed the old ten speed that she’d put together from scrounging around for parts. She walked the bike to the gated front yard and onto the street. “Maybe I should just burn the fucking house down”, she thought as she climbed onto her bike and peddled down the moonlit street listening to the music of some southern rock band that blared from down the street.
Emmett Johnson was an enigma to the small beachside community of Ormond By The Sea. Rumor had it that he came from a wealthy family from New York, but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. Disheveled, fat and perpetually drunk, it was hard to see where he’s ever served as anything more than a bad example. The old timers knew otherwise, he’d once been considered a pillar of the small community. He had owned a successful gas station and auto repair and was maybe the best mechanic for miles around. That was until the night his pretty young wife and their son just disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to them, and is usually the case in a town where everybody knew everybody else’s business, there were many rumors. Some said she left him for another guy, some said that they were dead, there were even claims that Emmett had killed them himself. Regardless of whatever the true story was, the downward spiral of Emmett Johnson that followed, was very obvious and startlingly rapid. The station went under and Emmett sank into the abyss of alcoholism. Now, some fifteen years later, this once proud man lived off of small jobs that barely paid enough for his daily case of Busch beer.
As she approached the dilapidated home the music became almost painfully loud. She pulled her bike onto the gravel driveway and dropped it next to the old drunk’s beat up Ford pickup. The front door was wide open and she could see inside the living room. The place was a shithole, with trash littering the floor. Empty beer cans were everywhere and the air stank of cigarettes and stale beer. Against the wall, where a couch might normally be was a bed and on top of that lay the sleeping lump of Emmett Johnson.
Nervously, Connie called his name a couple of times from the threshold, she dreaded having to actually go into the depressing room. Getting no response, she scanned the room from the doorway. She spotted the stereo under a collection of empty cans across the room. Scared now, she crept into the room and stood in front of the receiver, looking for the power button. Her plan was to turn the damned thing off and run like hell. She found the button and just as she pushed it and blessed silence descended on the room she heard the door slam.
Spinning around her fears were confirmed, there stood Emmett looking very pissed off and standing between her and the only exit. He was just over six feet tall, with wild hair and a scruffy beard. His huge belly stuck out over his dingy underwear.
“What did you do that for”, he asked, his speech still somewhat slurred from the days drink.
Genuinely scared, Connie tried to summon up enough confidence to sound tough, she failed as she stammered, “M-m-my mom made me do it.”
“She made you break into my house?”
“No”, Connie answered, “well yeah, she told me to come down and turn off your radio.” Starting to feel her anger push back on the fear she added, “It was keeping the whole street awake and some of us have school in the morning!”
He pointed to the chair that sat next to the bed and told her to sit. Maybe it was her fear of being trapped with this almost naked hulking alcoholic, or maybe it was just being conditioned to following orders from her drunken and abusive father. Either way, she pushed aside a couple of empty cigarette packs and lowered down into the dirty chair.
He moved around her and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you know what today is?”
She searched her mind for any significance of that date but all she could come up with was that it was Tuesday.
He seemed to chuckle at that, but there was no joy to be heard in the sound. ” Today is the day that they left.”
Connie searched her memories but had no idea what he was talking about. “Who left?”
“Linda and Bobby”, he explained as if she knew who he was talking about. He noted the confused look on her face and went on to explain, “my wife and son.”
She watched the pain and sadness twist his gruff features as he explained how they had gone up to New York to visit with her family fifteen years ago. He lay down on the bed as he tearfully explained that the police had found the car broken down in a bad section of the Bronx, the driver dead.
So engrossed in his story, Connie nearly missed the fact that his permanently oil stained hand now rested on her thigh. Repulsed as she was by the contact, she didn’t want to interrupt him so she let it go.
The police didn’t know that anyone else had been in the car until the following morning when they got in touch with her parents, who owned the car. A search began at daybreak for the young socialite and the heir to the Janniston fortune. The Jannistons, like Emmett’s own family had made millions in the stock market and the marriage of Emmett and Linda had joined their empires into one of the most powerful families on Wall Street.
As Emmett lie there on his dirty sheets and absent mindedly caressing the smooth skin of Connie’s thigh he explained how the police had found them two days later. Their bodies were discovered by the garbage men in a dumpster. Autopsies revealed that both had been raped multiple times before their throats had been cut and their bodies thrown out with the trash. He explained tearfully the days that followed, how police tracked down the gang who had killed his family, and the trials that followed.
She was so engrossed by his horrific story that the horrified teenager barely noticed his grubby fingers had slowly crept up her thigh and were now under the leg hole of her faded blue jogging shorts. Lightly, his fingertips grazed along the cotton gusset of her panties tracing the furrow of her lips through the dampening material. She knew that she should stop him, but she also could see the calming effect that finally telling his tale was having on the old drunk.
He shared how the NYPD tracked them down and one by one arrested the ten gang members who had taken his wife and child, and how they had bragged about what they had done to that rich little white bitch and her brat. They had all taken their turn with her, and pimped out his son to a number of pedophiles from around the city. When they realized who they’d abducted and the heat that they would bring down they had figured it was best to dispose of them.
He talked about how it had affected him, how he couldn’t work and began to drink away the pain but Connie was beginning to have a hard time concentrating on his words while his probing fingers toyed with her virgin pussy. She never let any of her few boyfriends touch her there and the sensation of someone else’s fingers rubbing her most private of parts was something she’d not expected. Her inexperienced sex was radiating tingling tremors of pleasure through her young body and she found herself spreading her legs to ease his access.
Unfortunately for her, the day’s drink and the relief of finally sharing his pain took their toll and gradually his fingers stopped stroking her very excited pussy and she heard him begin to snore softly beside her. “God damnit”, she swore as she pulled his hand from beneath her shorts, she’d been very close to cumming and now he was out cold.
Carefully the young brunette extricated herself from the chair, mindful not to wake him. She let herself out, making sure to close the door behind her before grabbing her bike and heading for home. She was so wet that she could feel her shorts beginning to stick to the bicycle seat as she peddled down the street listening to the crashing of the waves from the nearby beach. Quietly she let herself in the gate and parked her bike beside the house.
Letting herself in, she knew it wasn’t right. She could hear her younger brother moaning from the living room so she rushed in to check on him. Connie found Billy curled up on the floor near the couch, blood was flowing from his lip as he clutched his stomach. She checked to make sure that he was okay and saw the large bruise that was still forming on the side of his face.
“W-w-we tried t-t-to get h-him t-t-to bed”, her brother sobbed as Connie helped him up off of the floor.
From her parents’ bedroom she could hear her father grunting over her mother’s sobbing cries. It was obvious that they were having sex whether her mother wanted it or not. Loud slaps accompanied her cries and Connie knew that she was getting a beating and probably being raped, again. She raged inside, feeling helpless to protect her mom and brother from the animal in their home.
She quietly helped her brother to bed, half carrying him down the hall past their parents’ bedroom. The door was still wide open and she was able to catch a glimpse of her father kneeling behind her mother’s upturned ass and fucking her with her punishing strokes while slapping her ass. Even in the dim lighting Connie could see the discoloration of the bruises that he was leaving.
Thankful that they hadn’t been noticed, she helped Billy into his bed and lay beside him, comforting the poor boy as he lay there in pain. All the while she could hear her mother’s suffering and she fumed. There has to be a way to get rid of this asshole. Laying there in the dark soothing her brother she stewed. She considered getting one of Billy’s baseball bats and beating him senseless, she even considered beating him to death, but knew deep down that her mother was somehow addicted to the abusive fucker. There had to be another way.
She heard one last loud grunt from the drunken asshole that was her dad and knew that he was done.