Warning- (Contains spoilers and reference to rape)
Silent Prayer
Of that day, Rose remembers hands.
She remembers hands that detained her, rendered her unable to move. She remembers her own hands, too weak to fight back as she clawed and resisted. She remembers the sound of missiles and bullets in the background, and the weak strain of her own voice, pleading, begging for mercy.
She remembers them. Soldiers. Faceless. They were nothing more than the uniforms they wore. The uniforms that made them better than her. Those uniforms that somehow gave them the authority to touch her.
She remembers crying out. She remembers trying to tell them to stop. But her words were useless. Her voice worth nothing. Just as she was.
She was nothing. Not to them. Not to God. Not to anyone.
She cried out for somebody to help her. Nobody came.
She called out for God to save her. God never intervened.
She tried to scream for him to save her, but she knew he was long gone. He had left her, just as everything else she ever depended on had. She screamed one last time, and she was silenced.
She remembers their voices, stronger than hers. She remembers what they said to her.
They called her a fool.
An animal.
A worthless whore.
And for all that time, she was.
Ironically, Rose dosen't remember the pain, although there was inevitably an unbearable amount. She probably wouldn't have been able to keep breathing if she had remembered.
What she does remember is her own weakness. She remembers how weak her hands were, and how useless her words were.
Left alone and beaten, she drew her hands toward herself, mortified; unable to move for fear that they might return.
And she heard his voice.
"Get up. Walk forward. You still have your own legs."
And she did.
She shakily pulled herself from the ground and wrapped her bloodied shawl around her body. Her leg nearly gave as she took her first steps, but she still steadied herself.
And stepped again.
Even if her words were no good, she could still walk.
And she did.
