Lily-chan: I'm tired of dealing with this issue, so, in order to appease you and the other's who will inevitably pop up later (and, in large part because I'm cranky today) I present you with two cited, reliable sources.
Ar·te·mis n. Greek Mythology
The virgin goddess of the hunt and the moon and twin sister of Apollo.
Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
Di·an·a n. Roman Mythology
The virgin goddess of hunting and childbirth, traditionally associated with the moon and identified with the Greek Artemis.
Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
Misty: You are right, a story full of simply black blackness doesn't work, don't worry, this one will lighten up (a little) later on, sorry, this chapter is still dark.
-Niamh
"I was an unperson, I did not exist." Shadow's End Sherri S. Tepper
I could feel myself growing number and number with each horrible memory that surfaced. I had been joking before, but I wondered if I really wasn't disappearing, if soon I wouldn't simply cease to exist. I wanted to stop the memories, I didn't want to fade away, but they kept coming, they never stop.
I've already told you the he… the one who took me… the one with the brutal blue eyes… he never raped me… he brought in others for that, others who were more than happy to oblige. He would always sit in the back of the room, watching with a wicked sneer on his face. Who he brought varied day to day, with who was available, I supposed, and they each had their own style, their own little fetishes.
The first one, the one who took my virginity, he liked to beat me. Every time he came he brought in a new 'toy'. I remember a pipe and a whip and countless other instruments, including his fists, which where extremely capable of inflicting pain without the brass-spiked knuckles he became so fond of near the end. He was, by far, the worst, he would always take pains to make sure I stayed alive and stayed conscious, I always had to be fully conscious. "Not much fun otherwise." He told me maliciously.
The second one seemed mostly uninterested in me. It seemed he did what he did out of some odd sense of duty. Which is not to say he didn't take pleasure in it, he took enough to get himself up, but no more than that. He never hit me, nor did he take any pains to make sure I was not hurt.
The third was the strangest. The others seemed to be taken over by some animalistic instinct as soon as they entered my room, as if they didn't have any idea of what they were really doing, this third one, on the other hand, was almost gentle. There was always that brutish gleam in his eye, but there was something else as well, like his soul was forced to watch from someplace deep inside himself, like he knew exactly what he was doing but couldn't stop. He confused me more than any of the others.
But there wasn't always rape, so others didn't always have to be brought in, though they also liked to inflict pain without taking off their pants. I remember that everyone had certain ways they liked to torture me, but I am long past being able to separate them. I remember screaming and burning, mostly burning, and fancy light shows. Anything more than that is a blur, a hot, painful, burning haze.
I tried not to hate them, any of them. I knew that hate would devour me, leave nothing but a hollow shell, but I couldn't help it, hate was so much easier than any of the other emotions I had ready access to, I didn't even know which one of them put this thing inside of me, it could have been any of them.
Hey, this one was really short, sorry, but the next one is much longer and contains many of the explanations I promised. As I said before, I do apologize for any of the cranky author's comments, I am quite crabby today, so please don't take offense.
-Niamh
