Nine beads of horror. eleven months before our sto

The fact that my life is under someone else's close control, I realized as a child. Complaints, resentment, tears - nothing helped, my parents did not want to listen to me. Father did not forget what happened to him in childhood, but, nevertheless, did not believe me. After all, to believe means to open the gates to the supernatural, and my father was an extremely rational person. There were also grandfather and grandmother, but I was afraid of them, although they treated me very well. I just felt sorry for my parents. A big scandal happened after I fainted right in the middle of my grandparents' room. Before that, I didn’t sleep for three nights and didn’t seem to eat, although my mother regularly set the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But last night brought me to a faint. However, I will begin with the first step of horror. All events and memories are still fresh, although it is scary to think about it. At nine o'clock, Mom and Dad came in to say goodnight to me. Knowing that it was useless to expect help from them, I just smiled tightly and nodded. I was afraid to say anything, the voice would definitely give me away. By ten o'clock the house was quiet. The children were still noisy in the yard, and the sound of mahjong bones was heard, several people were singing, someone was banging the ball against the wall of the house, there was a rumble of voices, and it was quiet in my room. By eleven the yard was empty. By twelve no sound could be heard anywhere, and then horror crept into the room. In the beginning there were only sounds, a little girl was crying. I could not understand a word, the girl spoke very quickly and in a dialect unfamiliar to me. The sound nightmare repeated from hour to hour, until I realized that the girl had made some kind of mistake and was begging for mercy. Then there was the sound of a blow and more pleas from the girl. The more the girl begged for mercy, the more brutalized her executioners. In the end, the crying subsided, replaced by wheezing and groans. The day I first heard this sonic nightmare, I ran screaming into my parents' room. Alarmed, Mom and Dad returned with me to the nursery, but they didn’t hear anything, although for me this horror radio play continued. The first time my parents treated me with sympathy, the second time with bewilderment, the third time my father called me a liar. There was no question of spending the night in the parents' room. When I ran to my parents for the fourth time, they punished me and told me never to do that again. The unknown tormentor mocked me especially subtly on those days when I called for help. As soon as the parents left, the repetition of the most terrible passages from what had already been heard began. The tormentors especially liked to repeat the moment that I was so afraid of. The most terrible were the last hours of the girl. Possessing a vivid imagination, it cost me nothing to imagine the girl losing consciousness. The tormentor, who had come to his senses, was not satisfied with such an outcome of the case, and he called a servant with a bucket of cold water. After a few seconds, a faint moan of the girl was heard. She came to her senses. Those tortures, which, apparently, gave unspeakable pleasure to the unknown gentleman, I will not dare to retell. Three days when I was not myself, did not eat and did not sleep, were filled with every minute sounds of beatings, screams of rage, moans, cries of pain, pleas, and ended, as I already said, with my fainting. When I came to my senses, I hid behind my grandmother and watched a strange picture for a long time. Grandpa scolded dad. Up to this point, I had never seen anything like it. There were cries of the father “She is a liar!”, the calm exhortation of the grandfather, and his requests to remember himself in childhood. The more inflamed the father, the calmer the grandfather became. Suddenly his voice dropped to a whisper. I got scared. Apparently, my father became just as scared, because he suddenly calmed down and whispered something to himself. The real fear of grandfather and father was so terrible that when, in the end, I returned to my room, I stopped paying attention to the sound chaos. It's always terrible when adults, in whose power you believe infinitely, turn out to be mere mortals and start to be afraid of something. Having survived the fear for my relatives, I stopped being afraid of the unknown, and the sounds stopped. The next torture began a week later. As soon as I went to bed, the closet doors began to creak. I jumped up and peered into the darkness. It was so dark that I couldn't see my own hands. There was silence for a moment, only to be replaced by heavy footsteps that shook all the furniture in the room. Hiding under the covers, I whispered to myself: “All this is not there, it just seems to me”, “All this is not there…”. When they reached my bed, the steps subsided, hoarse breathing was heard. I was surrounded by unclean air. It was as if a person invisible to me in the darkness was leaning lower and lower. At that moment, when it seemed that a little more, and I would die of fear, everything stopped. Complete silence reigned in the room, only to suddenly shudder a few minutes later at the shrill voice of an unknown woman; “How many times can you repeat,” the woman shouted, “shoes must be left on theed door. In front of the door, do you hear, in front of the door. Then there was the characteristic sound of a slap in the face and a child's crying. Only this time the subject of bullying seems to be a boy. And this nightmare continued all night. I again stopped eating and naturally did not sleep. However, having learned from bitter experience, she did not even try to tell her parents about the resumption of nightmares, but fortunately, this time, grandparents were on the alert. Without explaining anything to my parents, my grandfather ordered me to move my bed to his bedroom. I went into the children's room now only during the day to play or do my homework. The nightmares are over. I slept in my grandparents' room until I was fourteen. Mom, who had not approved of this idea for a long time, once could not stand it. In Chinese families, it is not customary to contradict the elders, but in this case, the grandfather was forced to agree. I was already grown up and had to sleep separately. The very next day after I was placed in the nursery, the nightmares began again. Only now, since I have entered a very important era for every girl in China, the era of maturation, nightmares with a sexually sadistic slant began. I heard the voices of girls crying and begging for mercy. It seemed that a film was unfolding in front of me, sounds that I heard, but a picture that I did not see. It was all the more terrible for me to imagine what I heard. As the invisible horror movie spectacle went on day after day, I soon realized that the girls invisible to me were gathered in one place to serve the soldiers of the Japanese army. They were called comfort girls. Someone was lured by cunning for this work, and someone was simply kidnapped right from the streets or from school. There were girls from Korea and China in this sadistic place. To put it bluntly, these girls were just prostitutes. They served the Japanese soldiers from morning to evening. Beaten, wounded, driven into a corner, they gradually lost their human appearance. In order not to completely go crazy, some of the girls tried to commit suicide, but it rarely worked out for anyone. The girls were under strict supervision. They kidnapped right from the school very young students who had just entered the time of maturation. The Japanese had a special demand for such babies. Even now, I can’t calmly tell what I heard day after day, night after night. Growing up, I found articles on the Internet about comfort girls. After the war, the Japanese tried their best to hush up this topic, and by bringing up memories of the horror of that time, they tried to shut their mouths. When the Red Army liberated the territories where the Japanese were outrageous and forced the Japanese to capitulate, the Japanese began to destroy the houses where the comfort girls were, along with the girls themselves. After the war, the Americans picked up the Japanese banner of sadism and bullying of the girls they managed to take away. The American president put an end to this, and then only because many American soldiers contracted venereal diseases from such girls. Those girls who survived remained crippled morally and physically for life. Many girls were tattooed. The most innocent were the inscriptions: “Korean bedding”, “Chinese bed girl”, the rest of the inscriptions I simply cannot give here. Now I'm twenty-one and still don't have a boyfriend. Remembering the sound lessons of youth, I can’t even imagine that I will ever be alone with a strange man in the bedroom, and he will do to me what I heard every night from fourteen to eighteen years old. The nightmare I wrote about continued uninterrupted for four years. At eighteen, everything suddenly ended. And now, for a whole week, again, as in childhood, I don’t know under which blanket to hide, no matter what I see and hear what is happening around. Only now there are no good grandparents around. There is no one to wipe and dry my tears, listen to my complaints and leave me to spend the night in my room.
http://proza.ru/2014/07/28/238