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It was a hot summer evening in Las Vegas. I was 15 years old and living with my boyfriend at the time, Sandman.

Sandman and I were walking back from a cigarette run. We decided to cut through an apartment complex. After reaching the end, we had a small wall to hop over. It was roughly two feet of bricks with another two feet of wrought iron on top.

I stepped onto the brick with My right leg. Then, just after I lifted my left leg over the wrought iron and was putting my weight down onto the other side of the fence, it happened.

Sandman grabbed a hold of the fence to lift himself over. Only, he wasn’t aware that the metal was loose.

WHAM!

160lbs of force.

Wrought iron.

Onto My vagina.

Ouch.

I screamed.

Sandman jumped over in shock quickly, apologizing. I hopped down and bent over in pain. After a few minutes, with tears in my eyes, I stood up and limped back to our house.

Once inside, I waddled My way into the bathroom to assess the damages.

I pulled down my jeans and discovered blood. One side of my labia was torn and a little swollen.

I cleaned myself up and sat down in front of the TV trying to forget about what had just happened. After about fifteen minutes the pain still hadn’t subsided, actually, it was getting worse.

The hot burn would suddenly make a fast popping sensation that was followed by a horrible, deep sting.

I went back into the bathroom for another crotch check when I noticed it.

I had a little, bloody penis.

My labia was swelling by the minute. The popping I was feeling was actually the blood rushing into my wound. It was literally filling the lip up, like botched restylane injections.

My crotch resembled Lindsey Lohan’s head, swollen and red.

I made myself an ice pack then soaked in a cold bath.

My injury was worsening.

I was starting to think the emergency room might be a good plan.

So, I tried to get in touch with my dad. I hadn’t heard from him in close to a year. His roommate told me, on the phone, that he hadn’t heard from him either, for at least a few days.

Next, I called My mom. No answer.

By the time I made it into the emergency room I had a bloody appendage between my legs that was roughly the size of a baseball. Blood was dripping from the bottom.

That’s right, I had huge, oozing nuts.

I could no longer wear pants. Instead, I had on a long skirt with no panties.

What a mess!

Sandman suggested I walk in the middle of the road and repaint the lanes.

I waddled my way up to he reception desk. I tried my best to explain what was happening to the nurse.

“Why are you here?” She asked.

“Ummm, well, I kinda…..I hurt my…..down there. I mean, I was coming back from the store and I hopped over this fence….it hit me, the fence hit me on, my….my vagina, its, ummm…”

Let me tell you, there is no fine way to say,

“My vagina is swollen and bloody. Except it’s NOT my period.”

Very.

Embarassing.

Also, very painful.

The hospital staff finally understood what was happening to me, after all my screaming. Plus, it helped that Sandman was a little better at explaining the situation than I was.

He loved this.

They took me into the examination room. I’ll never forget the look on that nurse’s face who examined me.

Poor bastard.

I was immediately prepped for surgery. Being a minor, not having parental consent for emergency surgery, my case first had to be approved by a judge.

The order didn’t take long.

I was pumped full of painkillers.

Just as I was being wheeled into the operating room I heard my dads voice calling my name.

He was drunk.

“*****! Oh my God *****! I came as fast as I could!” He slurred.

“Sir! Sir! You will have to move your car immediately!” A voice yelled.

A mask was put over my mouth.

“Count to twenty!” Another voice said.

“I need to see my daughter!” My dad screamed.

“One. Two.” I counted.

“You are blocking an ambulance! Move your car now!”

“Three.” I said.

I woke up in the recovery room several hours later, alone.

My dad was sent home. Luckily he avoided a DUI. He called me the next day.

Sandman went home too. Then, scored an eight ball of crystal meth. I didn’t see him again for weeks.

My mom had been on vacation at the Grand Canyon. Since I had to stay in the hospital for a week anyway, she didnt bother to cut her trip short.

I went home with my mother the following week, after I was released.

The doctor who had operated on my bloated beaver told me that it was the size of a football when he had stared. I was internally bleeding and seconds away from having it rupture.

Vaginal.

Volcano.

One afternoon, while spending half the day on the couch panti-less, in a loose skirt, I got up to have a little tinkle.

After, I began limping back to the sofa when I saw it.

My mom was crouched over my sofa seat. She was trying to scratch a dry, crusted white spot off from the cushion that I had been parked at, with her fingernail.

“What is this?” She asked. “Were you eating on the couch?”

“No. I don’t think that’s food.” I turned bright red.

She looked up at me.

I looked down at my crotch.

“I can’t really wear underwear right now.” I stated.

“Oh, my God! That’s disgusting! You are f@@king sick! What is wrong with you?”

Ha ha ha ha ha!

“I’m injured!” I yelled in my defense.

She ran into the bathroom to wash her hands.

I was assigned, a towel.

After a week at my moms, I was driven back to Sandmans. I waddled into my room to find it filthy and destroyed. My pictures had been torn up, fish were missing out of the aquarium, the walls were dirty and weird chemicals were strewn everywhere. Sandman was nowhere to be found.

Holy f**king hell!

My room had been turned into a methlab!

I woke up that following morning to someone running out of my room and slamming the door. I looked to my night stand realizing that someone had just stolen my pain pills.

Seriously?!

Sandman returned home that evening. His hair was greasey, breath foul and you could literally smell the speed sweating out of his pores.

I bet he hadn’t slept since I went into the hospital.

I told Sandman off. I threw things. Then I called my dad, crying.

“Dad!” I whined. “This house is tweeker hell! I need to get out of here! Someone stole my pain pills and they destroyed my things while I was gone. You need to come and get me!”

“I have been drinking. Take some tylenol. I’ll come get you tomrrow.” He said.

“No, Dad! You need to get me now!” I ordered.

“Damn it, *****! I told you already, I’m f@@king drunk! Take a cab or wait until tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any money, dad!” I begged.

“That’s not my problem.”

CLICK

I had to get out of there.

I shoved some spare clothes into a bag and waddled to the curb.

I stuck out my thumb.

A man stopped.

I got into his car.

“Where are you headed?” He asked me.

“Henderson.” I told him.

“Why? Thats too far. How about you just come to my place for the night?” He suggested.

“Look, I just got out of the hospital. I’m in pain. I need to go home.” I stated.

The man reached over to me and began fondeling my chest.

I slapped his hand.

“You don’t want to go there, trust me. You can’t fuck me. I have a plum between my legs. I had an accident”

“Ya, right.” He laughed.

Then, he started rubbing my thigh.

“I’m serious you pervert! Pull over! Let me out!”

He lifted up my skirt.

The man caught a glimse of my swollen salmon.

He was rightfully disgusted.

The brakes of the car squeeled, he leaned into me, opened the passenger door and literally pushed me out onto the street.

I was saved by the fruit of my own loin.

I walked to the nearest 711 and picked up the pay phone. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Hello?”

“Grandma! It’s *****.”

“Oh, Baby! I heard what happened. Are you feeling better, honey?”

“No, Grandma. I have a purple plum between my legs. My room was destroyed. A tweeker stole my pain pills and then some man just tried to rape me. I called my dad and he won’t pick me up. I’m stranded and in pain.”

“What? Where are you at? You stay right there, baby! I’m going to call that son of a bi@@h, right now!”

Forty minutes later my dad pulled up.

“You little, fu@@ing, sneaky bitch! Get your ass in the car! Now.”

I got in the car.

“I told you I was drunk! If you needed a ride so bad, you should have called a cab!” He screamed loudly, spitting as he shouted.

“Don’t yell at me! I’ve had a shitty day!” I spat back.

“That’s not my problem! Its your own damn fault. You should have just stayed with your mother.”

“I didn’t know Sandman would be f@@ked up!” I screamed.

“You don’t know that you live in a meth house? You have been there over a year. Give me a f@@king break.”

“You are father of the f**king year.” I mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked me.

“You are a f@@king asshole!” I shouted.

WHAP!

He hit me in the mouth.

My lip stuck to my braces.

I untangled my lip and blood trickeled down my chin.

I had him drop me at grandma’s apartment instead.

image

I moved into my mom’s house a few days later.

A few days after that the stitches in my floppy flounder, finally, fell out.

I healed nicely down there, the skin just a little saggy. No man has ever noticed, or perhaps cared.

I asked Beans, once, if he thought I needed a vagina plasty. As usual, he told me I was nuts.

Little did he know!

—————————————————————————————————————-

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6 thoughts on “Vaginal Volcano

  1. Pingback: Raised by a Narcissist | It's not my fault.

  2. Wow, in among that cast of characters avoiding the harrowing experiences you’ve had I’m glad Grand Ma found time to get her hair done. Like a moth morphing into a butterfly there’s a woman struggling behind the forced smile and tired eyes. Keep wiggling Babe, you’re soaring.

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