DRAG ME UNDER
TRIS
She woke up with a startle. Her head whipped around and her body jerked upright. She was panting, gasping for breath. Her mind spun with terrible thoughts, the kind that made her stomach churn uneasily. It was unsettling. Her throat burned as her mind pounded with horrible memories. It was the way she would feel every time after they would leave. She would never be able to forget the way she felt sick to the stomach after they would finish. And she would never be able to forget the way they made her submit to them, the way they made her beg for it. She wanted to throw up at the memory. She hated how they had degraded her, how they had turned her into their own personal tramp. But she didn't hate them as much as she despised herself.
Her fists clutched onto the bed sheets, as breaths began to clog in her throat. Her chest heaved heavily, gasping for air but they found none. She was choking on the memories that plagued her mind.
"Please don't." She begged, "Please don't do this anymore. It hurts." Her voice was weak, and it wasn't from her inability to speak. They were depriving her of food, sunlight and proper sleep. She was given the basic necessities; enough water and bread to sustain her—to keep her alive... But barely. She had a dirty old mattress that she would cry into each night. Her tears that she shed every night stained the bed, as did other things—things that made her feel dirty.
The mattress wasn't just the place she would sleep; it was also the place where they would take her. It was cruel. Making her sleep where they robbed her of everything. The smell of them still remained behind long after they left and she was sure, no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of them. Her skin was tainted with their impurity much like her bedding.
She felt disgusted—she hated how her body would betray her each time. She refused to take any pleasure in what they did to her but the more she found herself in the unwanted position, the more her body craved it. The drugs made her mind spin, and she was confused whether it was actually her that wanted it, or whether it was the poison they were putting into her that made her desperate for them. The drugs often left her delirious, an in-and-out state where she would not remember anything afterwards.
But sometimes she did… Remember it.
She was revolted by how her body would react to their touch. She wanted nothing more than to cringe away from them, slap their hands away but as she was pinned beneath their writhing bodies, she felt herself give in. And it wasn't long after that she would felt moans escaping her mouth. No matter how much she tried to bite them back, she couldn't stop it. She loathed herself, she hated how weak she felt—she felt disgusted by how easily they could control her, manipulate her.
It was the same routine each time. They would come and take what they wanted without much fight from her. It grew a little tiresome after a while, fighting when it was useless. Tris remembered just lying there, waiting for it to be over. They made her keep her eyes open, made her look them in the eye as they drove themselves deeper inside of her. They whispered dirty things in her ear… Things that she begun to believe.
After they left, she would drag her limp body over to the washcloth and bucket, and scrub her skin raw. It did little to heal what had broken—to heal they scars they left behind. But at least, if she scrubbed it away, maybe the scent of them would disappear too. But it never did... She would forever feel their hands on her, their lips muttering filthy words in her ear, and their sweaty body pressed again hers. Most of all though, she hated how her body reacted—even though she had no control over what she did when the poison seeped into her—she still despised herself afterwards. Punishing herself for not being strong enough to resist the craving for more of it and for being so weak as to actually beg for more. After each time, she would usually feel sick after, nausea sweeping over her like a haze. She would throw up what was left in her stomach, which because of her poor diet, usually ended with her gagging on her saliva and heaving on dry coughs.
When she was left alone again, to the mercy of her own thoughts. The darkness would get to her then, whispering in her ear.
You're filthy. You're impure. And you deserve to die.
She used to shake her head furiously, believing that she wasn't lost... That she could be redeemed. But it was all naive thinking... And the more it spoke to her, convincing her she was corrupted, changed, the more she began to believe it. Soon, she was muttering those words herself.
I'm dirty. Impure. And I deserve to die.
She let a tear fall.
"I'm dirty. Impure. And I deserve to die." She repeated the words she hadn't spoken in a while. Words that had begun to believe after the very first time they took her by force—the very first time they took her innocence. The very first time they turned her into one of them.
She closed her eyes and embraced the darkness that she was all too familiar with. The darkness was welcoming, yet when its edges touched her, she felt a chill run through her body. She wasn't supposed to be there—where the darkness could catch her—but the more she remembered how they took from her, and how helpless and useless she had been; the more she fell into it.
She shook her head, not wanting to remember any of it. She had made herself numb to it all. It was the only way she could've survived. She had to make herself cold, unfeeling—she had to take away her humanity to survive.
And she did… Survive.
But what was living when you couldn't feel the joys that life would give you? Tris no longer saw happiness when she glanced up at the blue sky, or the way music rung in her ear when birds chirped nearby, she didn't even remember the feeling of love, family, friendship. Every corner she turned, every man she faced, she was reminded of the harsh reality she now lived in—a reality where she would never feel those things again.
"No." Her voice trembled, and she even scared herself with how weak she sounded. "I'm not there anymore…" She shook her head furiously, remembering the events of last night. "I escaped... I'm not going back." She blinked, not believing her own words. Even with her eyes wide open, she had to keep reminding herself that she had truly left… She had gotten away.
I'm free…
As the thought dawned her, she didn't really feel anything. Every emotion, every touch was numbing. She couldn't feel how cold the silk bed sheets felt beneath her back, or how soft the mattress was. She couldn't feel anything except the pain, the loss, the aching.
"No… I'll never be free." Those words wrapped her in a bubble of insecurities. She dug her nails into her palms and she didn't stop until she felt blood seeping down her hands. "I will never escape them."
She felt the bed stir beneath her frozen body. She turned her head to the left and saw him there. He was sitting on the armchair beside the bed, with his arm crossed beneath his head. She froze and a thousand terrible thoughts turned on her. Her breathing hitched and her heart leapt but she soon softened a little when she remembered… He wasn't there to hurt her… He wanted to help her. But she couldn't believe it. No one was that nice. Everyone wanted something from her.
Her eyes flickered up to the door. It was her only chance to escape… Only this time, she wouldn't be so easily found again… She would run far away. Run far enough that no one could find her. To somewhere she could finally be free.
She leapt to her feet and scrambled out of the bed. But she barely made it out of the door before she heard footsteps following her. Her mind spun heavily and her body felt weak. She stabilized herself on the wall, but found herself falling to the ground.
"Hey." His voice was calm, soothing but she didn't want anything to do with him. She shook her head desperately.
"Please just let me go." She whispered. Her lip trembled as her body shook anxiously.
His face softened, "I know it may be hard but please—please just let me help. I want to help you." He put his arms up, in an attempt to show his harmless intentions, "I just want to help you." He took a step closer to her.
She took a step back. "No. You don't." She whispered, "No one wants to help me. No one wanted to." Her eyes found his. "No one can."
"That's not true." His voice was strong this time, somewhat fierce. "I know you're not beyond help. I know that despite what you say, you want to be saved. I know… because I was once like you. I was in a place where I thought I couldn't be saved either…"
She surprised herself with the following words, "Who saved you then?"
His eyes darted away and he swiped away at the tear that had just fallen. "No one." His eyes returned to hers. "I saved myself."
She didn't say anything else.
"I know how hard it is to accept help… But you need it. I know you do. So please… Please just let me help you. Everything will be okay. I won't hurt you. I promise." His voice was desperate.
"How can I trust you?" She spoke uncertainly.
"You just can. You just have to admit to yourself that you can, because deep down you know you can." He extended out his hand. His eyes pleaded at her, begging her to take it.
She looked at it skeptically before nodding slowly. "Okay." She finally said before she reached up and took his hand.
A/N: Sorry that this took a whole week to get out… I was working on the final chapters of HTS. Anyway, hope that you enjoyed this and I shall see you next time! :)
