Summary: After being raped and beaten for five years, Rin is finally free. At least, that's what it appears at first. When the community, and many people around the world, band against her and the other victims, it's not freedom she's been given, it's just another punishment for something that wasn't her fault. At least there's the cop that saved her, her angel Sesshomaru.
AN: Thank you for clicking on Chained! If you're uncomfortable with rape scenes, I recommend skipping to the last scene of this chapter, or skipping it all together. This is the only chapter with any detailed rape scenes.
-[Chained]-
She pulls at the chains binding her ankles. She's pulled at them many times, tried to tug them and tug them, but all she managed to move is the bed.
She wants to be gone. She's always wanted that, it's not different that she wants it now. She wanted it when she was first chained, she will always want it. But will she ever have it? As they days go by, the sun spills through the bars and retreats back to the world she's no longer apart of she doubts. She thinks she'll always be here. No, it's not just a thought, it's knowledge. She knows she'll always be here. There is no escape for her, her heart and mind screams in unison.
Where is here? Here... well, she really doesn't know where here is. She knows that here is her prison. How long? The carvings on the frame of the wooden bed tell her it has been one-thousand, eight-hundred and sixty three days. After a moment of calculation, that informs her it's been over five years.
Five years... what has happened in five years? Who has come into power? Who has died? How many people she knew, have forgotten her? What about her work? Has the little bakery shut down, or has if flourished? What laws have been introduced? What wars have been started? What wars have been won and lost? Who has become famous? Who has fallen out of the eye of the public? Her favorite author, Takeshi Mikami, has he written any more books? If so, are they any good? Have any good movies come out? Has Disney released a new film yet? She always loved Disney films. What about her grandmama? Is she still alive? And what about the investigation? Did any one investigate her disappearance? Her grandmama would report it right? Did anyone care though?
Here though... this prison of hers. Five years since she was shoved into, her ankle chained to the wooden post of the bed, and the blind-fold finally removed. She had been taken right off the street, walking back to the apartment she shared with her grandmama from the college campus. She had been attending the local art college. She loved painting. Her grandmama always claimed that she came out of her mom with paint smeared on her cheeks. She knew that wasn't true, but she knew that ever since she first got her hands on paints, there was never time her hands weren't colored with paints.
She hears the door open, and glances up from the metal chain. She sees a familiar man, he's come more than once. He's... what is his name again? Keizou. He's told her to scream "NO! KEIZOU, PLEASE DON'T!" Part of his fantasy is that they've known each other from before. Sometimes she's the girl at the register at the local coffee shop. Other times, she's the temporary secretary who stirs his blood. Every once in a while she's a local librarian who likes the same genre of books he does. But to him, no matter where he pretends he knows her from, she is just a fantasy to him. She hopes he is ashamed of his fantasies, but she doubts he is. If he was ashamed, he wouldn't act upon them would he?
"This time, you jog past my front door every morning, and we chat when you come by because I'm getting the newspaper. Your name is Sakiyo," he informs her as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. She looks away, eyes downcast. She hears him step out of them and shoves them away with his foot. He pulls off his brick red t-shirt, revealing his grey, hairy chest and beer belly. Keizou is disgusting to her. Revolting. But so are all the men who walk in here and do what they do.
"Sakiyo... Sakiyo my sweetie..." his disgusting voice says as he kneels down beside her. He begins stroking her black hair with his chubby sausage fingers. "Sakiyo, do you know how much I have wanted you? Every day you run by my house in that low-cut tank-top and spandex shorts." He leans in, his scalding breath washing over her ear. "I think you're so attractive Sakiyo." He caresses her cheek, then roughly grabs her chin and makes him face him. "I want you Sakiyo. I want you so, SO bad. Please Sakiyo, please let me have you!"
She knows what to say here, she always knows what to say. She says it to, she'll do what she must. Good behavior gets her food and baths, a blanket and maybe they'll turn on the heater if it gets real cool. "Please Keizou. I won't tell," she breathes. "No one has to know, just let me go," she pleads. "Please, I won't press charges, no one has to know. We'll put this in the past."
He sneers at her before pressing his thin lips to her. His tongue touches her bottom lip, but she k eeps her lips shut tightly as she closes her eyes to keep away the tears. She doesn't have to fake the tears. She doesn't want this. This is just his sick fantasy. This is rape. Real rape, not just fantasy rape. There is a person behind the girl he is making pretend is this Sakiyo. This girl he makes pretend, she guesses that their is a real Sakiyo, and she guesses that the real Sakiyo does jog past his front door every morning in a low-cut tank-top and spandex shorts. The tears are real because she hates this. She is a person, but to him and everyone else that comes in here and keeps her chained, she is just a fantasy.
He pushes her down onto her back and puts his hands around her throat. She gasps for breath instinctively, even though this has been done to a thousand times in the five years. Her neck will always be black and purple, she is certain. Still, she gasps for breath. It's the human thing to do. The men that do this to her, aren't human, she knows this. They wear the skin and body of a human. But what type of human could do this? None, she knows.
"KEIZOU!" she cries as she feels the hard tip poking her lower regions. It still hurts, like the first time, like the fifth time, like the fiftieth time, like the thousandth time. When he forces his member, however average in length it is, it feels unnatural, too large. "KEIZOU!" she screams. "KEIZOU! PLEASE! THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU WANT!"
"This is exactly what I want," he whispers in her ear and he thrusts. He groans in her ear. "This has always been what I wanted. YOU! That is what I want."
He continues thrusting. She continues futily pleading, screaming at the top of her lungs. She knows it's pointless, hopeless. An endeavor that will do her no good. But it helps his fantasy she guesses, and she's logical. She hates him yes, she hates herself for doing what he wants. But she won't give up the pleasure of a bath, or even a cool meal to fill her stomach simply because it disgusts her. What good will that do her? They won't kill her no matter how disobedient she is. Some like disobedience. They'll continue using her to satisfy their customers, no matter her unruly nature. This is better, she guesses.
He finally comes to his climax with a shuddering gasp as he stills above her. She looks towards the grayish ceiling, eyes wide with regret and remorse. They give their women birth control, make them swallow it every night before their allowed to sleep. She's glad. She doesn't want a child that bares the genes of these disgusting men. It may not be the child's fault, but she still could never love a child like that.
She lays their broken as he gets up and puts back on his clothing. She's disgusted. She's filthy and dirty and her body has been used so many times. She's so tired too. Sometimes she just wishes to sleep and never wake up. But she can't. And she's always under surveillance. Suicide is out of the question for her, as much a she craves that sweet relief from the world, she knows they'll never let her have it while she still has value. They'll kill her when they don't need her, but that's too long from now.
"Thank you," says Keizou as he pats his pockets to make sure his wallet and phone are still there. He looks at her laying broken, and sneers. "Rin."
She shoots up from her laying down position, but the door is already closing behind him. She scrambles to her feet to chase after him, but before she even reaches the door she reaches the end of the chain and falls flat on her face. Looking up to the door, there is an aching in her heart.
She hates that to them she is fantasy. She wants them to see her as a person, but she doesn't want them to see her as... well, who she was before the kidnapping, before the rape. Who she was, was none of their business if all they can see her as is their fantasy. Her name was none of their business. They had no right to call her Rin, when to them she was Sakiyo or whatever girl their fantasy called for them. They had no right. To them, she was not Rin.
-[Chained]-
"Don't you FUCKING look at me!" yells the man. This one is new. She's never met him before. She's never been used by him before. He's never raped her before. He's never shoved his penis into her, brutally taking her because it's apart of his fantasy, and he forgets she's a human being.
She closes her eyes, mouth parted as she breathes. His nails are digging into the skin of her hips as he keeps thrusting. God, she fees disgusting. Dirty. So many men have spilled their tainted seed into her, placed their filthy hands on her body, breathed their putrid breath onto her skin. She hates them so much. Besides the brokenness and emptiness that fills her, is the hatred. The hatred for them, the men her see her as their fantasy, the hatred for the other them, the ones that chained her and force her to be just a fantasy, and the final them, men.
It's probably no surprise she hates men by now. Before she was kidnapped and raped, she hadn't had much experience with men. They never spared a glance at her, with her small chest of 32B, her short height of 5'2", and her tussled brown-black hair. Men didn't spare her a glance, drool over, subject her image to their nightly fantasies. She wasn't bothered by that then, and thinking back on it, she relishes in it now. But now she is looked at twice, drool over, subject the real her to their fantasies. That's the only experience she has with men, and she hates it.
She opens her eyes as she feels the warm liquid of another man's foul seed spilled inside her. God, she is disgusted by this. Don't they understand? Don't they realize she is more than just a depository for their wretched semen, more than just a vessel for them to act out their fantasies on? Do the people that lead them to her jail even tell them that she is more than an actress, that she really is a victim and that they really are raping her? If they do tell them that, how many turn away and run away? She doubts any of them do. Maybe they're not told, or they know that coming in.
"I NEVER gave you permission to FUCKING look at me!" hisses the man. She turns her head to the side, biting her lower lip as she feels digging in his nails ever more so. It hurts, more than just the physical hurt, it hurts so much her inner psyche. They think they can do this to her. That it's okay. What they're doing isn't a crime because she no longer exists.
She doesn't look back at him when he gets up and begins to put his clothing back on. She doesn't want to look back at him. Perhaps if she does, and looks at him with her broken and saddened eyes, he would feel bad. She tells herself he doesn't want her to look at him because it will make him feel ashamed. Rationally, she knows it's because it would ruin the fantasy, but she wants to dream. Still she doesn't look at him. She can't bring herself to lay eyes on a monster.
He spits on her before he leaves. She closes her eyes as she feels the cold saliva on her skin. She is gross, because of them. She is covered in filth, because of them. She hates them so much. So, so, much. She wants them to die the most painful death a thousand times over. That won't happened though. She knows that. They get off Scott-free while she is punished for their crimes.
She rolls over and curls herself into a fetal position and lets herself drift to where they cannot touch her.
-[Chained]-
"Get up," someone says. When she doesn't, he kicks her the stomach. She groans, as she curls up further. "Get up bitch, I paid for you, I'm going to use you." Another bastard, she wryly muses. But she does what he tells her to do, uses the frame of the bed to push herself up onto shaky legs. He watches her as she does so, greedily takes in her bruised and battered body. "You're very pretty. I'm going to call you Emiko, beautiful child." Does he like children too, she wonders.
His hands on her flesh again, groping and grabbing. She looks away, towards where the wall meets the floor. His fingers grab her chin and make her look into his sky blue eyes. Is the sky still blue? If she ever leaves, can she look at it without seeing this monster's eyes?
"You're going to look at me Emiko while I love your beautiful body." She nods dully as he lets go of her chin. His fingers trace over the bruises on her neck, traces her collar bone, brushes his fingers over her shoulder. He moves in closer, his street clothed body pressed against her nude form, his breath blowing on her neck. "I like biting people," he whispers before sinking his teeth into her neck. She cries out in pain. When he lets go, her looks into her eyes again. "Do you like me biting you?" She shakes her head. He sneers. "You like me biting you."
He pushes her down and she hits the ground with a muffled scream. "You like me biting you because you like me. You tell me every day Emiko, "I love you!". You know that Emiko, so why do you deny me every time I touch you and bite you. Why do you scream for your mother? Why do you look at me with fear and hatred? Why did you tell people I was hurting you?" he rambles as he presses the bulge in his jeans against her nether regions.
Why does she feel no surprise? Emiko isn't just a woman he created when he laid eyes on her. She's a real woman. A real woman he hurts and tries to rape, if not actually does. He's a deluded man, trapped in a world of fantasy. She feels no sympathy for him, but she pities him. He is such a deluded man. He doesn't deserve to live.
"Why did you stop calling me daddy?" he continues. "Why did you start calling me Manabu, or Mr. Iwata? Why don't you call me daddy anymore?"
She is appalled. Emiko is his daughter? She wants to roll over and puke, but he holds onto her hips as he grinds against her so she can't. Emiko is his daughter? She can't get over that. She's never been the man's daughter in any of their fantasies, at least not as far as she knew. She hopes she hasn't, because that's disgusting. God, she wants to puke so badly. He rapes his daughter. If that is not the lowest point one can reach, she doesn't know how far it can go. She feels no pity for him knowing this. He deserves no sympathy or pity. He can go rot in a whole six-feet deep for all she cares. He deserves to rot hell honestly.
"Call me daddy," he orders as she feels his hips against her.
"No," she grits out. She won't play into this man's fantasies. She can yell and scream at Keizou, and pretend to be the woman he wants so badly that runs past his porch every morning, and she can be just the depository for a man's semen, but she will not pretend to be daughter and object of some sick man's sexual fantasy. Never. She is dirty, but she is not that filthy.
"CALL ME DADDY!" he screams. She shakes her head and closes her eyes. Never is the word she silently communicates. She is not Emiko. When he calls to Emiko, she does not respond. And when he bites into her flesh again, she doesn't let her eyes flutter open as the pain washes over her. Never. And when he comes inside his pants, she doesn't bother to be relieved that it's over, not when she knows he's going to go home to his daughter Emiko with lust still festering inside his shriveled and disfigured heart.
-[Chained]-
"Come on Rin," says one of the workers in her prison. She looks up at the woman. Like many times, she wonders if this woman is raped to. She doubts it though. This woman wears clothing, and has no bruises and bite marks. But then she wonders. Why does she work here when she knows what goes on? When she takes the women used and bruised to bathe off the semen and the sweat. How could someone live like that? She would kill herself before she would do that.
She stood up and followed the sick woman though. Everyone here was sick, at least that's what she said. Not the other victims like her, never. They were not sick. They were victims. But the ones that made them victims, kept them victims, and victimized them were sick. The customers she passed on her way to the paths ogled her, whistled at her. Didn't they see how wrong they were? How wrong their actions and fantasies were? Why couldn't they see this.
The lady opened a door and held it open for Rin. Rin stepped through the door, allowing the warm, humid air to wash over her. The sick woman walks past her and rolls open the fence, and Rin walks past that and into the bath. The hot water broils her, turns her skin red. She doesn't mind though, at least this feeling isn't dirty like all the other feelings the touch her body. At least the feeling washes away the dirt, the semen, the touch of those disgusting, wretched men.
She holds her breath as she dips under the water. She wishes she could just hold herself down under the water, until the water fills her lungs and she no longer has the need to breathe. They'll pull her out though, she knows it. She is still of value to them as a whore that never wanted to be a whore. Still she holds her breath and waits for them to pull her up.
Rough, male hands wrap around her and pull her up. She's thrashing because there was a female that brought her here, not a male. Why is there a male?
He hushes her, stroking her hair. Her brown eyes notice instantly the woman who had brought her in here is handcuffed and being held by some other strong, muscular man. She looks up to the man who pulled out of the water, notes his longer silver hair and golden eyes. He wears a uniform to. A uniform she has fantasized about. A police uniform.
"We've got a victim here," he yells. "Someone get me a blanket." It takes a few moments but someone hands him a blanket and he wraps it around her, which she is beyond grateful for. He picks her up and carries her out, his strong arms around her, comforting. He places her down on one of the paramedic's beds, but she thrashes against the arms, reaching out for him. He saved her, she can't let him go. If she lets him go, she is no longer saved.
So he gets into the ambulance with her and the paramedics. She cringes from their touches, but when he places his hand on her shoulder, she let's them do their job. She catches them calling him officer Sesshomaru.
Officer Sesshomaru... he is her angel.