Welcome to the Serenity Estates Mobile Home Park, Seneca’s trailer park; Seneca’s home. Of the 27 plots of dirt in the isolated rural community, 17 had a 70s-era trailer on it, seven were settled on by upgrades, newer RVs that still had air in the tires, and three lots had become permanent parking for rusting vehicles. There were single and double-wide, many with add-on porches half rotted from age and neglect. There were more vehicles, two and four-wheeled sitting in tangles of native foliage than in driveways. A playground of badly corroded iron sprouting from a large mudpuddle was under the constant negligence of the several children who lived in the park. Of the 24 occupied units, in only four were the residents still young enough to be married to their first spouse, 11 married twice or more, and in the 9 other trailers, the inhabitants were co-habitants. Beer and Marijuana were the prime instruments for relaxation while more serious drugs were not unknown. Inter-trailer social events were one of two types, a park-wide beer bash complete with gossip, arguments, and fisticuffs, or an occasional fling in a dark corner or a vacant car. At 11 years old the girl Seneca had been exposed to more life than many urban adults.

Seneca lived with her mother Mabel and the drug addicted asshole Major, who wasn’t inclined to do much of anything honest, nor was he constricted by good social scruples. He spent most of his waking hours in the backyard shed, mixing chemicals to sell to other community members. He had been living with Mabel and Seneca for close to two years without providing much of anything except malice and instability.

It wasn’t unusual to see pornography on the TV so the girl walked through the room without paying attention to the blowjob on the screen. As she stepped through Major’s vision he growled, “Get the fuck out of the way girl,” she hurried to the kitchen where her mother warned her, “He’s gamey tonight Seneca, you better go stay with Kalani.” The girl heeded her mother’s advice and went to spend the night with a friend. She wasn’t in the mood to watch her ma’s boyfriend abuse then screw her ma, especially not when he was fucking higher than the fucking sun. Yeah, the girl had been exposed to ample censored life, she didn’t need another dose that night.

Two months later Seneca was close to finishing the 5th grade when one night Major, high on meth, tried to screw her mother. Mabel was tired and irritated so she shut him down. Rather than fighting with her, he marched to the hall and pointed to her daughter’s room and warned the woman, “She’ll fuck me if you don’t.”

“Go visit Gladys, the girl ain’t big enough.” With that assurance that her daughter was untouchable, Mabel went to bed. Rather than being thwarted or denied, Major slipped into girl’s room, stripped his pants then took his meth-fueled erection to bed with the useless bitch’s eleven-year-old female child. He rolled her to her back, pulled the clown-covered flannel pants off her then went to his knees between her legs.

Seneca was just waking up when he ruptured her girlhood, she yelped and tried to pull away from the felony assault but he was pinned deep and enjoying the struggle as her virginity succumbed. He fucked her recklessly and at first, she tried to resist, but she could barely breathe much less fight. She lay staring up at him, hurt, crying, and scared because of what he was doing. Even at her age Seneca had seen plenty of porn so she understood what was happening. She was getting fucked. For the first time. By Major, her ma’s live-in drug addict. It hurt and she wanted him to go away but it never entered her mind to fight him or call for help.

He assaulted her without concern until his balls gave in to the fresh tight girl and sent legions of assailants into her wounded womb. His cock went deep and she could feel the entire length of it violating her as he jammed and came, but the juices from his bludgeoning prick soothed the walls of her vagina, and just as the penetrating friction began to fade, he pulled from the girl, got out of her bed then returned to her mother who was unaware that he had just brutally conquered her daughter.

Seneca laid on her back, reliving the eight minutes from the time she woke up to the time he left. She put a hand between her legs then brought it back, her fingers were covered with snot and blood. Only it wasn’t snot, she knew what it was and she also knew she needed to clean up. There was a sharp pain between her legs when she moved to stand, but it faded slowly as she walked gingerly to the bathroom. In the tub she spent several minutes sudsing away the evidence of his prison sentence but she was naïve enough not to use a douche to flush her womb. But it didn’t matter, Major made no connection other than to pick her cherry that night. Even after the night of trouble was over it never occurred to the girl to wake her mother, call the police, or say anything to the school counselor.

Seneca wasn’t mentally traumatized by what happened to her. She was hatefully enraged that Major was the addicted fuck who stole her childhood, but she wasn’t surprised that she finally got screwed. Sex was a familiar topic among her friends in the hypodermic-needle littered trailer park where beer can tab chains hung as decoration from tree branches. Sex was not a private subject in her own home, sometimes her mother and her lover could be intimate, other times her mom and Major would fight nastily about sex. Over time the girl knew that Major was as feral as a cur, always ready to screw somebody or something, but her mom was not as often motivated to get laid; her boyfriend would bitch about how little he was getting while mother and daughter watched TV. In the trailer park Seneca had friends, boys and girls that talked about sex, she even knew two school mates that talked about fucking somebody as if it were a common occurrence. Well, now she had something to talk about too.

Seneca’s mother found the evidence of the crime the next morning when she went to wake her for school. There were streaks and spots of blood and semen on the mattress and the girl had leaked into her night pants. Not a single thought her mother had that morning was to report the crime, confront the boyfriend, or comfort her daughter. As her freshly violated offspring stirred awake, the mother’s first selfish thought was, ‘Good, now the motherfucker will stay off me more.’ Later that morning Mabel spoke to her daughter, “I guess you be growed up now Seneca. Now he’s done you, he’ll want more, and if he wants to fuck you, I can’t stop him.” The daughter listened to her mother with a hung head and silently accepted her future.

That day Seneca didn’t do much of anything but sit in class and brood about losing her virtue to that asshole fuck. She was silent and withdrawn, not even her best friend could talk to her. The girl spent most of the day feeling the trauma, her vagina was bruised and ached, she wasn’t very quick on her feet, but her mind was racing. She loathed him. She had hated him before, but after, Seneca was forming thoughts and ideas that would rid the whole fucking world of that motherfucker. Her friends kept pestering her, wanted to know what was wrong, but Seneca kept her silence. One day she might tell them what happened, but that day could be a long way off.

That afternoon after Major came home from whatever drug deal he was making and as he walked past the girl who was watching TV he said, “Hey sweetcakes, are you ready for another nighttime treat?” Seneca leaped from the sofa and fled to her room while the sonofabitch chuckled at her reaction. As she listened to him laugh, she knew there was only one way to shut him up --- and that would be forever.

She sat in the dark and prayed to all the gods she didn’t believe in, she prayed for inspiration, how could she get that monster out of her life, out of her mother’s life, out of the trailer. She knew damn well that from then on, she would be a regular night stop for Major if she did nothing. The girl brooded in her room until sleep finally put her down.

The next day Seneca took one of Major’s three hand-guns and set it on her nightstand and covered it with a pair of panties still warm from her body. Nobody likes to touch someone’s dirty undies so she was sure the gun would stay hidden. She made sure the nightstand stood tight against the bed so the disguised weapon was within reach. Once her room was arranged, she waited.

Seneca didn’t have to wait long. It was shortly after dinner nine days after he raped the girl that Major knocked Seneca’s mother to her ass on the floor for some offense then stepped out for a hit of meth with a couple of his inbred friends. After the door closed the girl went to take care of her mom who warned her through tears, “He’s gonna want some fuckin’ tonight, I ain’t gonna let him.”

The girl accepted her duty, “I know ma, it’s okay.” That was how she could take care of her mother, by keeping the bastard off her that night. Seneca would sacrifice her pussy to him, not only to keep her momma safe, but because this was what she had been waiting for.

Seneca helped her mother take a soothing bath then tucked her into bed, “You sleep good momma,” kissed her on the bruised cheek then pulled the blanket to Mabel’s chin.

The woman turned sad eyes to her daughter, “I’m sorry Seneca, I just can’t.”

“I know ma, it’s okay, he can do me, I will do it for you. You have the bed all to yourself, sleep nice.”

Seneca wasn’t about to lure Major to bed, or even be acquiescent, if the asshole wanted her, she was not giving it up willingly. She had plans if he did get into her bed, but if he didn’t, that was okay too. Maybe he would be too shit-faced loaded with drugs and beer and just fall over on the sofa, he did that a lot. If he did, it would be a nice uneventful night for the quasi-family. But if he stumbled into Seneca’s room for a night-cap fuck, the night would be full of events.

He came into her room shortly after 11, he was high, drunk, and horny. The bitch in his bed was lost in Neverland and didn’t look very appetizing, her thick, blood vesseled ass didn’t work for him just then. But the girl? She was the feast for the night, the appetizer, main course, and dessert. His cock inflamed with memory, she felt real fucking good that first time, her pussy was tight and fresh, not like the fucked-out, fat old mother. After a piss, he shed his clothes then pulled the covers off the cunt’s lovely daughter who had been watching him get ready to come to her bed, “Take your clothes off,” he directed.

Her gaze lifted from his erection to his eyes, “No”

“Girl, it’s not gonna do you a bit of fucking luck or anything put up a fuss, get your goddamn jammies off or I’ll do it and they be rags in the morning.”

Seneca recognized defeat, sat up and tugged the nightgown off then lay back again, arched off the bed and pulled her panties off her legs. Major was standing next to the bed staring down at the girl and could feel his nuts packing up for a long delightful trip. Seneca dropped her arms to her side, moved her legs apart then stared up at the dark gray water stains on the ceiling above the bed. He moved to cover her then without regard for Seneca or her wellbeing, rammed his bloated cock into her. She protested the first full-length thrust, her eyes poured hate into his, “Ow, that hurts, be careful you sonofabitch.”

Uncaring for her psyche or body, he explained, “Your ma is a slut an’ you gonna be one too, so I don’ hafta to be careful, now lay there and enjoy this, I’m sure as hell gonna.”

He was fucking her hard, his body angled up from where he empaled her to his hands and arms next to her head. Seneca was bouncing, moving, sliding up and down on the bed which was thumping against the wall. As he pummeled her, Major collapsed down, lying on her full length, ramming, and jamming into her cunt with wild abandon while holding her ass tight against his body, he could fuck her deeper that way. He had no concern for the young girl as he despoiled, used, and enjoyed her. When he changed the angle of his cock in her pussy, he twisted her around far enough she couldn’t reach the nightstand. She was dismayed, her plan was out of reach.

He was pounding and thrusting, driving Seneca up the bed an inch at a time. Just as her head began to bump the wall, Seneca was again close to the pistol. She reached under the panties on the nightstand and picked up the .38 S&W revolver. The first Major was aware that she had his gun is when Seneca pulled it up and put the barrel against his ear, “Get off me cocksucker!” she forewarned in a threat-laden growl.

Major pushed up off her, angled so only his erection was violating Seneca, “What the fuck bitty bitch, you gonna shoot me?” he asked with humor. He could feel the power of his lust building, the girl would get pregnant for sure. No big deal if she did, he would move on to somewhere else, just like before. Major’s cock clenched, filled with nut juice, then just as his erection started spewing, she pulled the trigger. The bullet tore into Major’s ear, through his brain, and blew out the left side of his skull. He was dead even before his cock could complete its mission. As he toppled off the girl’s bed, he was spitting the last of his life all over her legs. She wouldn’t get knocked up that night.

Seneca was damn near deaf. The explosion of the bullet was close to her ear; she couldn’t hear properly. She dropped the pistol to the bed, scrambled out and over the piece of shit then kicked him to make sure he wasn’t moving. Half his head was missing but the gore didn’t bother her, she was thrilled that she had acted on her own to resolve an inflexible problem. Major paid the price for beating the woman and raping the child, as Seneca called 911 to report the struggle she couldn’t wait to tell her mother.

The police took rape kit samples from the girl then gave her mother tranquilizers to calm. The female cop interviewed the mother, “Did you know he was having intercourse with your daughter?”

“Having what?”

“Intercourse, fucking, did you know he was screwing Seneca? How often did he beat you? Did he beat the girl? Did you know he had a meth lab in the shed?” The questioning took 45 minutes, during which time the mother became less agitated about her boyfriend lying next to Seneca’s bed with his brains splattered all over a wall and more worried for her daughter.

Seneca told the story of the first rape; no, she didn’t tell anyone. Why? Because it was bound to happen one day, that was her day. The next questions the cops had for the girl that concerned them were not about Major subduing her, but how she got the pistol. “He brought it with him, he told me if I didn’t let him have me, he was going to shoot my momma. I was scared shitless he was going to hurt me or ma, but he put it on the little table. When he pushed me around on the bed, I got close enough to pick it up without him seeing.” Seneca sat up straight, her eyes turned to flint, sparking, “And the filthy sonofabitch watched me pull the fucking trigger.”

The lady cop looked up startled, then made a note in her notebook, “What about the knife under the bed?”

“What knife?”

“It looks like a fish cleaning blade.”

“You found that? Good, I’ve been looking for it. I need it in my fishing box.”

Seneca made the local news that day, her picture was blurred and her name kept quiet, but she sat for an interview with the popular female reporter. On-screen pundits predicted Seneca would need years of counseling for PTSD, have night terrors, and learning how to have a ‘normal’ relationship with a man, if she did ever. It was a good thing the interview was blurred, the camera would have shown none of those concerns on the girl’s face, she was inwardly glowing that she had solved a life-threatening problem all by herself. She felt no remorse, no fucking PTSD. Taking Major’s life did something to her innards, something akin to orgasmic thrills just as she pulled the trigger. She wasn’t sure what caused her to quiver so, but she liked the feeling, she liked the risk; she liked ridding her world of an evil person. That was the night Seneca became a (stone cold) (thrill-seeking) (cold-blooded) vigilante.

The police didn’t return the gun, it had been reported stolen and was being held as evidence in two armed robbery cases, apparently Major did more than cook drugs. What the cops didn’t know, didn’t discover, was that there were two more unregistered pistols in the trailer. Rapists in the world, beware, eleven-year-old Seneca had realized a purpose, she had the tools and aptitude to rid the world of garbage. The girl slept soundly knowing she would never be violated against her will again.

It took about three months of talking to her friends and recovering from that night before Seneca began to get curious. She wanted to have sex with someone who wasn’t abusing her. She wanted to know if it could be as pleasant as Kalani described. Shortly after her 12th birthday, Seneca went to her friend, “Do you think your brother would fuck me?” the girl asked of her life-long best friend.

Kalani’s brother was seventeen, almost full-grown, but that wasn’t a factor in what she was feeling, what she had experienced. She wanted to get screwed properly, she was ready to experiment and age wasn’t a factor. Besides, he was cute. The girl answered her friend, “I’m pretty sure he won’t say no if you get into bed with him.”

“Should I go in there?”

“Well, why not, if you want it, go on, you don’t have to wait for some guy to start grabbing on you.” That was twelve-year-old Kalani’s philosophical and sociological stance.

Seneca didn’t try to be sneaky when she went into Fraser’s room. He opened his eyes just as the girl stopped next to the bed, “Fraser?”

He rolled his head to look up, he’d known her most of her life so he wasn’t shocked at seeing her, just curious, “Wha da fuk ya want?”

“Can I get in bed with you?” No sense in farting around with hints and innuendos.

Fraser was waking up quickly, “Why? Ya got nowhere else to sleep?”

“I wasn’t thinking about sleep.”

He sat up and looked intently at the girl. She was twelve, cute, trending to pretty. She was medium height and her unisex body was radically reshaping and he knew for sure she had a pussy, he’d seen it before when Seneca was staying with Kalani. He didn’t spy, but the girls weren’t always careful to keep doors closed. And if the story was true of why she killed Major, she wasn’t virgin. Fraser’s prick began to inflate, “You don’t got a gun do you?” he asked warily.

Seneca didn’t say anything in return but pulled his blanket up then lay on the mattress next to him. Fraser clicked off the light then with no more encouragement began to help the fresh young girl take her night pants off. Seneca wasn’t nervous or afraid, but she also wasn’t horny, she didn’t know how horny felt, she was experimenting for the experience.

Kalani’s brother didn’t hesitate, a girl was offering herself and his cock was instantly alert and started pulsing lube. She was on her back waiting when he raised over her, held his erection to the junction of her legs then gently pressed into the willing young pussy. Forty-nine seconds after she came to his room, Fraser was fucking Seneca. She was tense, and even though he was slippery and careful, the initial strokes of his erection weren’t smooth or erotic. She forced herself to relax and feel what was happening between her legs. She pulled her night shirt up to feel his skin on hers, then closed off her mind to the horrors of what she first experienced and concentrated on Fraser as he fucked her; it didn’t take long before her vagina began to seep oils. She oozed lube onto his cock which made his thrusts less invasive, more stimulating. Seneca had a frightful thought so she pushed on Fraser until his cock flopped out of her, “What?” he asked.

“I don’t wanna have a brat, you gotta be careful.”

He smiled softly, used his knees to widen her legs even more then eased with care into her. Their groins meshed and bumped and Seneca began to feel the erotic aspect of getting fucked. She pulled her legs up, knees high with Fraser cradled between them. He pushed up on his arms and smiled into her eyes. Seneca was warming, her entire body felt flushed, his gentle smile added an intimate touch to the intimate act. It was just six minutes later that Fraser pulled from the girl and blasted a large blot on the mattress, it would soon dry, just like the others. He could label them with a Sharpie, ‘Kalani,’ ‘Lucy,’ ‘Kalani,’ ‘Kalani,’ and ‘Seneca.’ Seneca couldn’t express what she was feeling so she kissed his cheek almost shyly then slipped out of his room back to Kalani. “Did you like it?” were the first words out of her friend’s mouth.

“It was a whole lot better than getting raped.”

It didn’t take long before the girl and the teen were fucking often. The first two times she went to him, but he began to visit her home. The first time he came to visit Seneca, it took Mabel about 22 seconds to sense her daughter was screwing the boy and politely left them alone. The second time he dropped by, Mabel cautioned him to ‘wear a goddamn rubber’ then put on a movie and ignored the party noises coming from her daughter’s bedroom. It was obvious the young woman had gotten over the first traumatic experience of sex.

For the next three years Seneca screwed several of the boys in her social circle, it wasn’t unusual that she and Kalani provided the entertainment at private parties. She let Kevin screw her often, he was twelve years older, well experienced and taught the girl a lot about getting an enjoyable lay. It didn’t matter he was married; his wife was a bitch. By the time she was fifteen, Seneca had a tight teen body and more suck and fuck education than many women years older than she. As deep as she was into the scandalous nature of life, Seneca didn’t do drugs, legal or illegal. She remembered too well how meth or other shit could fuck someone up.

She was at a party with Kalani when some guy tried to get her to puff a meth pipe, “I don’t do that,” she told him.

“Come on bitch, it’ll make you feel good then we can feel good together.”

Seneca was instantly alert, red flags popped up in her mind. The last motherfucker to call her a bitch was dead and she wanted no part of anyone like Major. “Get away, I ain’t gonna do that.”

He grabbed her by a wrist, “Hey, I know ya like fuckin, so we can forget the pipe, come outside with me.”

Seneca jerked away from him to find her friend, “Hey, that asshole over there is getting way to friendly, let’s leave.”

“Him? Yeah, we better, he likes girls who won’t fuck him, he got me alone one night and made me suck him off, he threatened to beat me into a coma if I didn’t.”

“Really, you had too?”

“Yeah, and I ain’t in bad company, there’s at least four more girls here about who had a bad night or two with that rapin’ asshole.”

That night after she got home Seneca thought long and hard about the man, he was way older, closer to 40 than 30 and looked and smelled like he was allergic to diets and soap. Kalani’s warning kept her mind roiling with thoughts of how to rid the world of another rapist. She needed to know his habits, where he hung out, she needed to talk to some of the women who knew him. But the more she thought about him she knew that if she showed any interest in him, it would be hard to deny she knew of him. She would have to wait until the next time he hit on her.

Seneca didn’t have to pursue Boo; he pursued her. Boo. Yup, his name was Boo. The young woman didn’t need to approach the fucker, she knew he would hit on her the next time they met. She didn’t set it up, but she didn’t avoid him. Boo wasn’t a resident of Serenity Estates but often showed up to drink or get high, compare tattoos, and bump beer guts with his buddy bikers.

There was a park wide fireworks party set up for the 4th of July, a bunch of the residents got together and bought a parade’s worth of rockets and bombs. Grills were smoking and the whole park smelled like beer mixed with bar-be-que sauce. There were three groups of people, the men, swilling beer, smoking drugs, and badmouthing everything from the fucked-up government to those goddam Japanese rice burning crotch rockets. The second group were the women, glad to be able to talk without ‘him’ listening. And everybody else under the age of 16 running wild on ATVs through the evening party. It took Boo just three beers and twenty minutes to find the girl. He was ready for a fresh young woman, and young Seneca looked fresh.

She didn’t want anyone see her and Boo together, no one. If sometime that night she and he were talking and somebody noticed, the night was off, she would leave. But if no one saw them leave together, she and Boo would enjoy the fireworks alone. Seneca stepped away from her friends to the shadows behind a shed and changed into clothes she knew would encourage the bastard.

“Yo, girl, having a good time yet? I got some smoke.”

“Told you asshole, I don’t do that, but I like the party; I hope the fireworks are as good as last year.” Seneca wasn’t avoiding him but walked away, knowing he would follow. She led him between two trailers then angled out to a weed lot infested with rusting cars. Boo followed silently, watching her long shapely legs as her butt swayed under a short skirt. Seneca’s heart was beginning to thud, not from sexual tension, but from the tension of a plan coming together. Could she last to the end, or would she crumble and flee?

He caught up with her in the junkyard, seized her wrist and pulled her to face him, “Don’t you think this is far enough?”

“For what?”

“For us bitch, isn’t that why you brought me out here?”

“I ain’t out here to get laid, not in some goddamn car. I want to see the fireworks.”

Boo tugged on her arm, “Come with me, you can get a better view of the rockets and shit from somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“Come on, don’t worry, the view will be great.” He was much bigger than Seneca so he towed her by an elbow with ease. She stumbled beside him for a couple minutes until they reached his shack. And it was a shack, one perfect for an aging, dirty, drug puffing sonofabitch. The place smelled like filthy underwear and previous rapes; garbage and trash covered every flat surface in the hovel. He urged the girl into the front room and pointed to a large grimy window, “You can see the fucking fireworks from here.”

“And where will you be watching the fireworks from?”

“Right behind you girl, you gonna watch the fireworks banging while I bang you.”

Seneca turned to face him, “No, I ain’t gonna do that. I’m going back.” She tried to leave.

She expected it, and he did it: Boo grabbed her by a wrist and tugged her close then put his hands on her ass and pulled her against his crotch, Seneca could feel him hard. She pushed away, “No, you stinking motherfucker. No!”

He grabbed her by the throat, his fingers pressured her neck, “Yes, now get your fucking panties off, you don’t have to be coy no more.”

Seneca accepted her downfall and placed her pack on the stand next to the bed, pulled her lace panties off then laid back and waited for the vile bastard to fuck her. She didn’t have to wait long. Boo pulled her skirt high then jammed his short fat cock into her without benefit of lubricant, natural or store bought. She felt the skin in her pussy tear, he was too fucking thick and dry. She groaned the pain which only acted as a tonic for Boo, he started humping the girl as if he were five minutes out of prison. Seneca managed to put a hand into her backpack and grip the loaded pistol hiding at the bottom of the pack. Just as Boo was ready to loose the hounds of hell into Seneca, loud canon shot fireworks started bursting across the field. No one would have heard the shot that sent a bullet through his heart, Seneca’s body began to cramp with thrills that lasted until she pushed Boo off, his still hard cock slid across her clit which caused her to tremble with a small orgasm.

Her shirt and bra were ruined with blood, it had soaked through to her tits and stomach. She pushed Boo to the edge of the bed then got up and pulled her skirt and shirt off, picked up her panties then went to clean up. She threw the clothes into a wood burning stove and stocked it with firewood. She felt confident nobody could find her DNA, find out who killed the sonofabitch. After a quick hot shower Seneca put the pistol under her panties in the backpack then stepped from the shack in the same clothes she was wearing at the fairgrounds. Fifteen minutes later she was at the park looking for Kevin, she was horny as hell and needed to get him away from his wife for quickie, maybe two. Fraser would have to be her alibi if she couldn’t find Kevin.

It took a few days before anybody noticed the fat fuck Boo wasn’t hanging around. Two of his biker buddies found him in bed, bloated, four days deceased. The police investigation took about ten minutes and was closed as an unsolved homicide. The whispers, conspiracies, and gossip lasted for weeks. By the end of summer, it had been accepted that the evil bastard got what he deserved, blessed be whoever pulled the goddamn trigger. The inner glow of satisfaction Seneca felt because of what she did kept her warm for many weeks.