victim

You remember those nights after you were freed from certain death. You remember the thot that got away. You remember tearing off that arm like it was butter, and then a horrible, bloody fight. You remember falling over dead, and getting back up. When it was done, your best friend took you to the hospital.

You remember the first moments when you were conscious, pulling away from your brother in law’s grasp because in the first seconds of being awake you were afraid that someone would violate you again. You saw the shock in his eyes, as he wondered why you, who trusted him so, would do that. You had to tell him what happened to you, and made him promise never to tell your sister the full details. You saw the horror in his eyes as it dawned on him what they had done to you.

You watched him call your loved ones. Anya was devastated by hearing where you were and the news nearly set her back to square one, even though she didn’t know the extents to which you had been tortured. Midnight swore an oath of vengeance on the spot. Your mentors were disgusted.

But none were so devastated as your lover. You heard a bright light go dark as his sobs descended into bestial growls. Your heart sank. You heard someone else pin him down on the other side of the line. It hurt, and it scared you. You weren’t sure why you thought of him as incapable of frenzy. He was calm and collected, and when he was angry, normally it was a very cold, calculated anger. That you were the one who drove him to the point of breaking wounded your very soul. He should never have to feel that beast claw its way out of him.

It served as a stark reminder of the world you lived in and the things you could never have.

Your mood only sank further as you were subjected to rape kits and blood tests by doctors you barely knew during the day. Most of them made you uncomfortable, but one stuck with you. An older, Indian woman whom you knew Anya spoke glowingly of when they worked together, would sit with you long past the point she was obligated to. She would talk you down gently from your bouts of suicidal self-hatred and take you down the Youtube rabbit holes with her to keep your mind off of things. During those days, you weren’t sure why, but you felt like maybe Gaia was actually okay with you.

When the moon would rise, you would think about the woman your boyfriend would speak of so fondly. He would compare her to a rainbow in the dark, and you think about what good company she sounded like she would make while you were here. Because other than that, all you had were Reva, Midnight and the doctor during the day.

It had never hit you quite as hard as it did then, just how lonely you were under Helios’ light.

When Helios set off for the other side of the world, though, your loved ones came out of the woodwork. Anya would have to be forced to leave your side to do her job. Roscoe put it on himself to keep an eye on you those nights, so that she could be distracted and heal from her own torment.

And then, there was Jackdaw.

You could only think back to the phone call where he found out what happened to you. He looked upset with the world, and himself, these nights. You knew you did that. You couldn’t look at him. All of this was your fault, because if you had kept your nose out of things you wouldn’t be here. Vampire politics wasn’t supposed to be a thing a werewolf gets involved with, but you did. You did, and you paid for it. Everyone paid for it.

If you had minded your own business, you wouldn’t feel so disgusting and wrong. If you had minded your own business he wouldn’t have had to feel that, and wouldn’t have had to suffer the Wyrm’s terrible grasp. Your entire life was a cosmic joke and the Triat laughed at you while they collectively used you as a chew toy. It was your fault, because you existed. But you could never say it, because no one would listen to you.

The heavy weight of the Apocalypse sat on your chest when you looked at him, because you knew that in a world that wasn’t about to die, he would have never felt frenzy. He wouldn’t be cursed. He would see the sun, and so would Ros, and so would your sister.

You realized that to you, it was never about Gaia’s losses. It was always about your own, like a selfish prat. But even then, you wondered if it was even worth fighting anymore. It was your worst nightmare to imagine your loved ones descending further into the Wyrm’s clutches. Now, you may have caused that to happen by your existence alone. The two most important people in the world to you, about to lose themselves because you were stupid enough to get caught.

But you also knew he could see what you felt.

No matter how much he assured you that he was fine, you couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t fine. He had been taken by the Wyrm. Nothing was fine. You were gross and disgusting and beaten and violated. You had been defiled. When you let your mind wander too far you could still feel it in here. In the corners of your mind you could see the shadowy figures, jamming silver shards anywhere they could reach and doing unspeakable things to you. You weren’t sure how much of it was your memory and how much was your imagination. But then, you hadn’t been sure of anything except for the quiet during the day when that doctor would sit with you.

After they were sure you were stable, they released you. The doctor was sure to release you at night, so that your boyfriend could sign for you. He took you to the place he was staying, and neither of you acknowledge the mess he had made but hadn’t cleaned up yet. He treated you like the most delicate porcelain, and wept over you. You hated to see him like this, but a part of you wanted to be treated like that forever.

After that, he treated you like a victim.

If he were to even so much as touch you, he asked if it was okay. No one was allowed to come near you unless you explicitly gave consent. In a way, you hated that you had to be treated like this, but you knew that if no one did, you would collapse even faster. In another way, you thrived on the slow, low-stress atmosphere. You wished the world would slow down more sometimes.

But during that downtime, you would remember the one who freed you.

She carried herself like a jungle cat. If you didn’t know better, you would have guessed her to be one of the rare, almost mythological Balam of South America. It was strange to you to see a Sabbat that looked absolutely disgusted with the way you had been treated. Alien, almost. As far as you knew, they were all out for your blood after the disaster with your sister, but here this one was, setting you free without even hesitating. She mentioned having made a lot of mistakes, and you remembered that. You remembered it through the self hatred of your hospital experience, and you remembered it through the time you were bedridden too. You remembered it through the haze of alcohol and sleeplessness that came after, and you certainly remembered it when you finally came down on the heads of the ones that had done it to you.

Funny, now, that you would see her again here today, standing before the court of your new home city. You aren’t sure why she’s here. She doesn’t even seem sure of why she’s here, but the Prince seems as coy and certain as he ever has.

Everyone seems shocked when he offers her the Primogen’s chair. He gives her a month to think on it, and releases her. She greets you with ‘hey bitch’, and not much other thought, but you’ll address what happened later. It’s a surprise.

When you go home after that, you lay down in bed and try not to feel the sting of silver in your most sensitive places again. It’s been a struggle ever since.

You still can’t accept it, but at least you don’t hate yourself.