It seemed like days had passed...
Are you finished?
I could no longer
Move my arms.
The only thing left in the room
Was the silence
Can you still hear the breaking glass
When it hit my face?
Even the mice were laughing
At the smell of pain,
Here we go again
To the depths of no return
She sighed.
“So, another one bit the dust then?” she said, to no one in particular. She had to be tough, she’d seen this so many times. Even though it broke her heart. She looked down at the naked woman laying on the floor in front of her. She was obviously conscious. The sobs gave her away. Her dishevelled clothes were strewn around her and her blond hair was dirty.
“I’ll have to give her a wash,” Mariah thought and sighed. She was tired of this. Sure, she needed to find people, but to acquire them like this? It wasn’t right. “There’s nothing else I can do,” she told herself, trying to suppress the guilt. Even though she knew there wasn’t much else she could do for people coming to the drift, she still felt bad about it. Especially with the rape victims. Seeing their pain, and still forcing them to…she swallowed.
“Don’t think about that now,” she reminded herself, “I have to help this woman. I have to do my best.” She wiped the tears of her face. All these years and she still hadn’t got over it. She sat down and tenderly touched the woman, removing her hair from her face. She cried out, and sat up, pulling away from Mariah’s touch. Fear shone out of her blue-green eyes, and she tried to cover herself up with her arms and legs. Mariah sighed.
“It’s ok,” she tried, knowing fully well what would have to happen. It happened every time. She wasn’t sure why she even tried anymore. She grabbed her hand.
“We have to go,” she said. The woman whimpered and pulled away again.
“Please,” she said in a small voice, “don’t touch me.” Mariah sighed.
“Sweetie,” she said, “I know you’re scared, ok? But we have to get out of here. I’ll take you to safety.” She sighed. She knew it wouldn’t work. Why did she even try? “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She attached the simple sedation device to the woman’s neck. She was out cold. Mariah leaned down and lifted her up.
“It’ll be ok,” she mumbled, then laughed cynically. “Oh, who am I kidding?”
Please remember I know who you are.
Someday, I'll have the strength to tell.
As the man looked over me
With his inquiries,
I swore you never did it.
I licked the sweat from my palms.
Alone am I with your face burned in my mind
You are the one who deserves to die
It should have never been me.
Beka shivered as the hot water streamed down over her. The last thing she could remember was a woman trying to get her to come with her somewhere, next she was laying on a bed, the same woman presenting herself as Mariah, telling her to clean herself and have some food. No matter how scared she was, the promise of a shower was irresistible. Anything. Anything to wash his smell and feel of her. It didn’t work, she scrubbed her skin raw but she couldn’t get him off her. She sank down in the shower and let her tears flow freely. How could this have happened to her? Sure, it happened to other people, but not to Beka Valentine. She was too strong to be raped. She was meant to be able to fight people off.
“Obviously not,” she thought cynically, “maybe I’m just not as strong as I thought I was. Maybe…” she sobbed, “Maybe I deserved it.” It all made so much sense. She’d left her friends, hurt them so much, and now she’d been hurt. “Yep. That’s it. I deserved it.” She wiped her face, not sure what was water and what was tears. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Miss?” Beka shook her head, too unstable to be able to reply. The door opened slightly, and Mariah’s head peeked in.
“Are you ok?” she said carefully, eyeing Beka’s swollen red face. Beka nodded, though she knew the other woman would never believe her. Mariah sighed and entered the shower, obviously not bothered about getting wet. She pressed the switch and the water stopped running. Beka looked up at her. She’d liked the water, washing her body. Mariah held out a towel.
“Here. Dry yourself.” Beka hesitantly took it. Mariah smiled.
“I’ll be outside.” She left again and Beka began drying herself with the towel. It didn’t help either, and Beka suddenly wondered where her clothes had gone to. As if she could mind-read, Mariah’s head popped in again.
“I put some clothes for you outside,” she said softly, “whenever you’re ready.” Beka nodded, and as she dried herself, her thoughts travelled to the night before, as much as she wanted to forget about it. She dried herself quickly, trying to escape the sound of his breathing, playing like a tape in her mind. His laugh, his smile. She knew he enjoyed her pain. She quickly left the shower, looking at the clothes Mariah had left her.
“I thought…you might not want to wear the same clothes,” the dark-haired woman said, “These are comfortable, and um, covers you up pretty well.” Beka stared at her. Had she done this before? Was she some sort of Samaritan for rape victims? She shook her head and put the clothes on. Mariah went up and put her hand on Beka’s shoulder. She screamed, and lashed out. Fortunately, Mariah seemed to be used to the reaction. She calmly avoided Beka’s hand and let go of her shoulder.
“Ok,” she said calmly, “you’re obviously not ok with being touched yet. Can we talk?” Beka nodded and they both sat down with reasonable distance between each other.
“What’s your name?” Mariah said gently. Beka considered. This woman was nice. A fake name didn’t seem necessary. Yet - Beka sighed, her name, “Beka”, was the name all her friends called her. Having someone else say it now that she was away from them, it would hurt.
“Rebekah,” she said, “Rebekah Valentine.” Mariah smiled.
“That’s a nice name,” she said and Beka suddenly felt annoyed. She wasn’t a baby.
Mariah sighed. She seemed like such a nice woman. She wished there was another way.
“Why did you rescue me?” Rebekah asked. “I mean, I’ve never met anyone who’d do something like that without wanting something for themselves.” Mariah swallowed.
“It’s as hard every time,” she thought. “I’ve done this so many times, so why? Why is it always so hard?”
Please remember I know who you are.
Someday, I'll have the strength to tell.
I pray for you as a little boy.
What must have happened to make you so cruel?
And I pray that you rot in hell
Please remember I know who you are.
Someday, I'll have the strength to tell
On you
Bif Naked - Tell On You