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The place that no one ever touched, no matter how much they violated my body.
* * *
“Gone” by Blake Rose
Aeron
I watch her walk out of the door and, like Knox who’s losing his shit behind me, I want to rage and tear this place apart with my bare hands. She takes a fundamental part of me with her as she leaves, something that I didn’t even realize I had until she came into our lives. Something that I don’t think will remain if she gets hurt again.
My fists clench around the bars to the point of pain when I think about that first day, when that scum Soldier beat her and took her in front of us as we had to watch and suffer the agony of being unable to help her.
Fuck, I hate this.
Suddenly, I’m ripped off the bars and spun around, not even ducking as Knox’s fist hits my cheek, splitting open my already cut lip.
“Use the fucking key now, asshole!” He can barely speak, the rage making his entire body vibrate. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, grimacing at how fucking filthy I feel. One problem at a time.
“I can’t,” I grit out, feeling the words cut me as they leave my throat.
“Bullshit!” he roars, taking a step to launch at me again, and I’d fucking let him if Tarl hadn’t wrapped him in a tight embrace from behind.
“We have to wait. Think about it, Knox, you know how many Soldiers are out there. We wouldn’t stand a chance, and Lark would still get hurt,” Tarl reasons, and I see the fight drain out of Knox, even though a part of me wants him to keep fighting. To hurt me more because the pain can’t compare to what I feel inside knowing that she’s out there, probably about to get violated while we have to wait in here like fucking cunts. Knox growls in frustration, but his rage has left him, to be replaced with the desolation that fills my soul and has turned everything to ashes. Jude sniffles at the bars.
“But she’s all alone,” Jude whispers, the sound like broken glass as it cuts straight fucking through me.
Taking a huge breath that only makes me hurt more, I take the few steps that separate us, putting my arm over his shoulder and pulling him close. From the moment that he and June were born, I knew I would protect them with everything I had, a love so fierce blossoming inside me I thought nothing could top it. Until her.
“I know,” I say back, unable to offer any platitudes. “She’s strong, Jude. Stronger than any of us that’s for fucking sure.”
“But even the strong break sometimes,” he replies with another sniffle, and I have to bite my lip hard, the sting grounding me enough not to say fuck it all and lead us out of here with nothing but our bare hands and our lives to give.
We remain in silence, just staring at the door as if she might walk back through at any moment.
Stay strong, Dove. We’re coming for you, even if it kills us.
Lark
“Panic Room” by Au/Ra
Doc takes me through the main room, past the bar, and to a door at the back that leads down another corridor. Nondescript wooden doors line the dull, dirty green hallway, and I catch scraps of what looks like old wallpaper lining the walls. I used to think about all the people who visited here during the prohibition, all the bright young things who were just looking for a good time in a world that was lifeless and gray. Now there’s just the desolate drabness of the place, full of ghosts all writhing in pain and screaming for someone to come and rescue them. I know from firsthand experience that there are no white knights in this world, no one who cares enough when a young girl screams at a monster to stop.
He stops in front of a door that I’m all too familiar with, a polished, brass plaque on the front, reading ‘Soldiers Darling.’ It’s the only thing that shines in the low, dingy corridor. A shiver penetrates the numbness that I’ve been wrapping around myself, and I have to work hard to pull it back again, trying to disappear under its comforting embrace.
Two goons stand either side of the door as Doc opens it and walks inside.
“See you real soon, Darlin’,” one of them whispers in my ear as I pass, and my steps stutter with his lecherous tone. He must be one of the new recruits that has made Corporal. I’ll be seeing him later then.
“Ignore them, Lark,” Doc grits out as he ushers me inside, shutting the door with a finality that’s like a nail being driven into a coffin. Stopping in the middle of the room, I look around at the bare walls and the second door that I know leads to the sparse bathroom. “I’m so sorry, Lark. I tried to convince your father that you weren’t sufficiently healed, but he wouldn’t listen—”
“He’s not my father,” I interrupt, my words sounding hollow to my ears as I stand there.
Like picking at a scab, I can’t stop my eyes from falling to the double bed, its ornate, metal headboard resting against the far wall. A flash of memory covers my vision, and I’m on the bed, wrists tied to the bars, a Soldier between my thighs as another waits his turn. I blink and I’m back in the empty room, Doc hovering in front of me with his brow deeply furrowed.
“They’re coming tonight, Lark. You just have to hold on until then,” he tells me, taking one of my hands in his. My eyebrows twitch at the warm sensation, and I realize how chilled my skin is compared to his, like I already have one foot in the grave.
“You and I both know, Doc, that rescuing me is not high on Adam Taylor’s list of priorities.”
“Maybe not his, but those boys look at you as if the world begins and ends with you. It will be the first thing they will do,” he tells me, his tone unwavering in its conviction.
