Nat Brat is an erotic writer, living in Gold coast Queensland
(Trigger warning. Nat's post contains reference to sexual violence.)
Growing up in Sydney Australia during the 80s was considered mostly a safe environmental setting. Like most young girls I had older cousins to 'look up too' and admire. At age eight, my best friend was my male cousin. He was seven years my senior. Tall muscular with blonde hair and intoxicating blue eyes; I thought him wonderful. But that's not why he was my hero. He offered me attention. Focused directly on me. I felt an overwhelming sense of importance. Often he would sit at my bedside; together we would play children's board games. I recall the way he would often shake one of his legs as he sat close to me; a nervous habit. But I knew he was a troubled soul. A misfit. Socially unaccepted; he was my paradoxical best friend. Someone I never feared to the slightest degree. He loved me. Later as I developed into a teenager he romantically disclosed; he was waiting for me to ‘grow up’. To steal me away from his now troubled life that had become a maze of taunts and despair. He asked me to run away with him. I knew this wasn’t normal and kept it a secret. He always accepted my decline of his sexual advances. I felt compelled to protect him from harm. Humiliation seemed to seep into his life. Never knowing who deserved his forgiveness or punishment. He would often ask me to advise; ' when is it correct to stand up as a man and fight or turn the other cheek'. He had few girlfriends. Never knowing how to provide he fell quickly into petty crime. He was tender and sweet. His approach to seduction was patient. He made Romeo appear a novice in comparison to his committed passionate devotion. Submissive in nature. Then, something snapped; and he altered completely. In a single action, he raped and kill an innocent young girl. A hitchhiker became victim to an unspeakable crime. He was alone in his unforgivable savage attack. He told it was someone else with him who slayed the innocent and precious life. Three months later he told me the ugly truth.
Admission in full. Responsibly he doesn't wish to seek pardon. He has resolved its best he is locked away for life. A childlike memory, staring into the caged ferrets kept for rabbit hunting. I see him as both the hunter and the hunted. They were a vivid reality for us both on family holidays; shooting innocent little animals. I’m not naive. My involvement is only my view. I saw the tip of an iceberg. I am a part of the ice trapped frozen in the depths of his sexuality.