I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe
~s. breathe me
Her vision slowly cleared.
An open window. A five-pronged candelabra on a table, its wax melted and clung like witches' curse.
Two silver flagons, one toppled over. She was lying on the side.
Sansa blinked once, twice until her mind settled and the giddiness danced away. The lantern on the wall was cold and lifeless now. And on the floor a moth lay on its tattered wings as ants began to break it piece by piece.
Her fingers moved and felt the soft pillow. Her body remained numb and uncertain...and painful. She caught the sound of rattling keys and the door opening. Trying to move, she heaved her shoulder to lie face up and the numbness seared. Parts of her skin felt sticky, especially on her neck down to her navel. Her lungs beckoned for air and she inhaled deep to fill in.
Looking at the servant who came in, she saw his back. She recognized the scraggly figure, the limping motion, and the worn-out clothes. Theon. He was placing a tray on another table. The sound of cutleries were evident. Theon! He was here all along. Oh Theon you've come to save me.
She pressed an elbow against the bed and forced herself up. Slowly she was able to, and it seemed then everything had become lighter, except for a pounding on her right temple.
When the blanket that covered her chest began to unravel her, the throbbing and numbness dispersed. Instead, shock took over and painted confusion passionately on her face. She stared at an ugly bruise just above her wrist, something that resembled a gripped hand. It ached when she touched it, and everything in her suddenly did. She began to pull the blanket off her with eyes widening at every inch exposed.
She wore her small clothes from last night, a white satin which was now crumpled mercilessly. Her cleavage bared out of the untied ribbons on her collar.
"No..." Sansa whispered to herself, horror hung on her very breath. The air around her began to feel acrid as she touched the discolorations on her breasts: repulsive marks of grasps and teeth which seemed to look at her with nasty smirks. Her nipples felt sore and the aching began to smear her chest.
"No...please no..." She began to see tears clouding her vision as she undressed her shoulders and saw the same blotches. She traced a teeth mark on a shoulder blade, one that slightly showed abrasion. She couldn't remember it getting there.
And there was something in her that wanted to stop herself from looking at the place where it proved everything about her had been ruined. Terror dragged her head to look down on her hips which was still covered with the blanket. She bit her tongue as her hands slowly pulled the sheets away. Hesitation owned her fingers but still they clutched on the skirt that covered her legs.
Sansa suppressed a sob as she unravelled the limbs which were slightly spotted with marks of pressure. A strange smell filled her nose, alcohol, sweat, and something...else. She slightly parted her legs and her sensitive part stung.
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand and felt hot tears escape her eyes.
There it lay flat and dry on the sheets between her legs: the stain of her maidenhood, a livid red mark of defeat that looked at her with intense loathing.
Sansa shook her head and shut her eyes as she embraced her thrusting shoulders. She had never felt such shivering, such revolt and self-disgust inside her before, and her body went limp as her remaining force was dragged on her throat. She slowly dropped herself, a gentle body wounded, a mind that rioted with desperation to know what she has ever done to deserve such, and a soul that wanted to be free of the clutches of the world. She crouched into a ball on the bed, half naked with her hair as vibrant orange as the pain that marred her face. She lost the last honor that she ever had, that she ever protected.
"Perhaps...I could be crueller still."
She began to scream.
END OF PART I