The forest around me is quiet, almost unnaturally so. The only noise comes from wind moving through the trees. If not for that, and the swaying of the branches, it would seem like I'd found a place where time stands still. The sky is overcast. What little light makes it through the clouds is filtered through several layers of leaves before it can touch my skin. It's exactly how I want it.
I look around, several times, turning in circles so I don't miss a single detail. I need to make sure I'm completely alone. I need to make sure that no one can see me. I look up at the sky. Even if the clouds suddenly parted, there's no chance I'd come in contact with direct sunlight. I look down at my clothes. My body cringes and forces me to look elsewhere.
'No, that's the next step,' I tell myself. 'You've made sure there's no one around, and now you have to get undressed.' I mean to take my dress off, but every time I try my hands refuse to move. I stand there, frozen.
I close my eyes, and take deep breaths. 'No one can see me. No one's trying to see me. No one can see me. No one's trying to see me. You're alone. You're safe. No one can see you. No one's trying to see you.'
'But they'd like to.'
'That doesn't matter. You are alone. You are safe.'
'But they want to see you naked, and afraid, and helpless, and—'
'STOP IT!'
I pull my dress down before I have the chance to stop myself again. It falls in a heap around my ankles. My body is bare underneath it.
I'm naked.
The wind brushes against my exposed skin, but it doesn't mean anything by it. My body is just an obstacle in its way. Now it's time to open my eyes. They're squeezed shut. I can look. One peak won't hurt me. I can look.
My left eye opens and closes, as quick as a flash of lightning. But the image stays in my head. I see my body, but I don't see the ground at my feet. Instead I see myself lying horizontally in my husband's bed, unable to move, as all of these faces surround me, their eyes leering at my figure, their mouths twisted into toothy grins, as they laugh at me. And then they notice me watching them. Their grins grow wider. Their mockery grows louder. Their faces get closer. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to run away, and yet no matter how hard I try, I can't move a muscle. I want to yell at them. I want to shout at them to get their hungry, disgusting selves away from me, but I know that there's no point. They know I want them gone. They can smell my fear. They feed off of it. They swarm around me, like vultures circling a wounded animal.
Fighting against my body's instinct to freeze, I lift my head and stare off into the bushes. It takes some time for the images to disappear from my sight. What's wrong with me? I kept my eyes shut the entire time I was trapped there, so why does the sight of my body bother me so much? I... I did keep my eyes closed, right? My memory of the incident is blurry and somehow all too clear at the same time. I remember how I felt. I remember what I heard. I remember feeling Ares beside me.
...I remember what I looked like from their perspective.
How is that possible? It can't be an actual memory, right? It must be a product of my imagination. Because I had my eyes closed, my brain must have tried to fill in what I couldn't see. I don't really understand it, and it's not something I'd like to think about.
I breathe in. 'You are safe. Your husband is far, far away. Everyone is far away. No one knows you're here. This place is completely private. It is for you, and for you only.' Repeat the mantra. 'No one can see me. No one's trying to see me. No one can see me. No one's trying to see me.' Repeat it a few more times.
It's time to look at my body again. My body is mine, and I should be able to look at it. I should be the only one allowed to look at it, unless I say otherwise. It is mine. I look down.
Immediately the ground below me disappears again. I shut my eyes, and squeeze my eyelids so lightly together that the only things in my vision are dark swirls of red, purple, and green. Their laughter reaches my ears. Their voices are back. They speak garbled words, the sounds of their excited chatter layering on top of each other, but their tone is clearly mocking. Anxiety builds up in my chest. I keep hearing my name. It's called out in a man's voice, the tone high and the syllables long. I want to attack the owner of that voice. I want to punch him down, rip out his eyeballs, and stomp on his ribs until they break. But I can't see him, even though he can see me as clear as day. It's not fair. I don't stand a chance in a fight like that. No one does. There are footsteps. They're coming from my left. Now my right. They're surrounding me.
A person gets a very specific feeling, a certain pit in their stomach, when they know they're trapped. When they're caught. When something has them, and they can't get out of its grip. I imagine it's how a mouse feels when a cat's got it by the tail, and it doesn't know for certain if the cat will kill it now, or if it will play with it until it's exhausted and broken and in too much pain to even remember how to run away, but either way, it knows it's going to die. That's how I felt after I got married, and the feeling never went away. It's just a little worse now.
I look up. It's easier this time. The ground rustles behind me. Someone is standing there. I can feel their presence. I whip around, ready to knock their light out. No one's there. I'm going crazy. I can't take this anymore. I can't stand not being able to look at my own body. I can't stand being this fucking pathetic.
I grab two fistfuls of my hair and scream. I scream with all of the fear, and rage, and shame in my body. I scream until I run out of air. And then I scream again.
I feel a little better now. A little lighter. I sit down, making sure that my butt lands on my discarded dress. I reach out beside me and press my hand into the dirt. It's cool and crumbly in the shade of the trees. I move it back and forth, creating a fan shape from the displaced soil. I draw a heart beside it. It makes me feel a whisper of joy, so I draw the heart a friend.
I've been looking at my hand, and my arm, and everything's been okay. I can look at my the rest of my body, and everything will continue to be okay. It will be okay, because I'm a fully functioning goddess who is capable of looking at herself. I slowly, carefully pan my gaze over to my body. As soon as it comes into focus, I feel a huge pressure on my chest and stomach. It's like my husband is crushing me, the weight of his body pushing the air out of my lungs.
'No, come on, Dite, stay focused. Inhale. Exhale. See, it's easy. You can do it. Keep those eyes open. Don't look away. Good, you're doing it. You're doing it! That's great, Dite. You're doing great. He's not here. He's not even anywhere close to here. You're safe. And you're doing well.'
"No one can see me. No one can hear me. No one's trying to see me. No one's trying to hear me." I speak the words out loud.
In the back of my mind, the bad part of my brain tries to convince me that Ares is mad at me. It's getting desperate. It's running out of ideas to hurt me with. Ares isn't mad at me. I make myself chuckle at the idea, to show that part of my brain that its words mean nothing, and that it needs to just shut the fuck up already. I'm looking at my body, and nothing bad is happening. I'm okay.
I think I'm ready.
I get up and walk towards some familiar bushes, watching myself kick my legs out as I walk, because I can. And because I'm worried if I look away from my body I won't be able to look at it again. But mostly because I can, and it's fun, so why not? I squeeze between the bushes, trying to avoid getting scratched as much as possible, and take a big step down, onto squishier earth. Suddenly there's a small, beautiful pond in front of me. The water reflects all of the vibrant shades of green from the foliage around it. It fills me with excitement and anticipation. I love swimming. I love playing in the cool water and feeling it rush around my body as I move.
I take my first step into the water, and— oh. I'm still wearing my sandals. Well, that's annoying. I'm half-tempted to take them off and leave them here by the edge of the pond, but I know I should put them with my dress. It's much easier to find one thing than it is too, especially because the sandals could blend into the mud pretty easily. I sigh and squeeze through the bushes again. It's not a pleasant thing to do when you're naked. I take the sandals off and put them right in front of the dress. There we go. Now I just have to go through those bushes one more time.
The water is a great temperature around my ankles, refreshing, but not too chilly. As I walk further into the pond I cringe at the feeling of the water climbing up my body, but I know once I get my head wet everything will be fine and dandy. Soon the water is up to my waist, and I know what I must do. I crouch slightly to get into position, and dive in.
The water swirls around me, running its hands through my hair. Its temperature truly is perfect. I open my eyes and look around. There's not much life in this pond. A few plants are scattered around, but besides them, it's empty. I swim down so that I'm laying just above the sand, and I use my hands to guide myself to its deepest part, like a flat fish crawling along the bottom of the ocean.
Then I turn myself around and use my feet to push off the ground. I rocket upwards through the water and break the surface with a splash. The air hugs my face. It's dyed with the smells of the forest. A laugh bubbles up through my chest and escapes from my mouth.
I play in the pond for a while. Much longer than I intended to. It's fine, though. I have nowhere to be, as long as I return to prison by night time.
Once the amusement wears off, I remind myself that I still have something to do. My mind tells me it's unnecessary. I've been catching glimpses of my body while I've been swimming, and I've been fine. I'm okay now. But I recognise that voice in my head. It's the bad one in disguise. It knows I'm not fine. I know I'm not fine. I can still feel the cold hand squeezing my brain.
I'm not naive. I know that doing this won't magically make everything better, but it's a step in the right direction, and a step I need to take. I lean back against the water, and I let it support my weight. My shoulders tense, but I make them move back to their natural positions. I close my eyes.
First, I run my hands through my hair, which floats around my head like a halo, soft and light. It's good hair. I like my hair.
Then I run my hands over my face. I feel a little dumb doing so, but I'm the only one here, so I shouldn't judge myself. ('No one can see me. No one's trying to see me. No one can see me. No one's trying to see me.') These are my eyes. They see for me. These are my lips. They help me speak. These are my cheeks. They help me smile. My face is good. Thank you, face, for everything you do.
I rub my ears. Thank you for letting me hear.
Next, my neck. Thank you for supporting my head.
My shoulders, my hands. Thank you for all that you do. I make sure to thank everything as I go along. My forearms, and upper arms. My chest. My... breasts.
'I... like my breasts,' I tell myself. 'They're good.' I find myself having trouble thinking it. 'They... they... I like them. They're mine. They're a good part of me. Even if I can never hide them. Even if everyone looks at them. Even if people who should be my friends look at them. They're still good. Because they're a part of me. And I am...'
Good?
'I am me. They are part of me. They will always be part of me. Thank...' My face grimaces, and my stomach churns. I shouldn't be this uncomfortable with my own body. It's not my body's fault that everyone came to stare at it. It's their fault.
...But it wouldn't have happened if I had someone else's body. I wouldn't have had to get married if I had someone else's body. I would have been able to have a normal life if I didn't have this stupid fucking body!
I punch myself in the shoulder. I immediately regret it. That was stupid. 'You're not special for having bad things happen to you, Dite,' I scold. 'Everyone has bad things happen to them. Even if they're Joe Average. They're just able to handle it better than you can. This is the body you have. This is the face you have. And you're just going to have to learn how to fucking deal with it. Now stop being a baby and thank your breasts.'
'...Thank you, breasts.'
I run my fingers over my nipples. 'They're good too,' I force myself to think. I don't think my... uh, chest area? 'No, breasts.' would feel complete without them.
I reach down, and bring my feet to my hands. Thank you for letting me walk. Same with my legs. Same with my thighs. Same with my... butt. I find it easier to think good things about my butt, for some reason. I know people like to look at it, and talk about it to each other around the same amount as they like to talk about my breasts, but for some reason my butt feels safer to me. Maybe it's because when I got caught in the net, I was mostly on my back. It was a little more protected. Anyway, good butt. Keep doing what you're doing.
Gods, I sound stupid.
Alright, and now my back. Touching the small of my back makes me feel shards of ice in my body, and I don't know why. But I move on. I move my hands over the rest of my back. Good back. Thank you for supporting me. I move my hands over my waist and to my stomach. This area of my body is very, very good. It grew my baby inside of it. And that's amazing. I give my abdomen extra rubs, for extra thanks.
I move my hands back to the side of my body, and follow the curve of my waist down to my hips. I have a nice body. In terms of looks, I have the best body. And a small part of me is happy about that. I think if I lived in a perfect world, all of me would be happy about that. Even though there are times I want to hide my body from the world, like when my husband's around, or when I want my friends to see me as a person, or when I've been caught in a giant net, there are times when I like my body too. When I'm alone for long enough, I like my body. When I'm with Ares, I like my body a lot too. Obviously I like it when we're having sex, but even when we're just talking, and I'm alone with him, I still like it. It feels safe to be around him. I don't have to protect myself from anything when he's there.
Though, after the net thing I can't shake the thought that maybe those feelings of safety and my love for my body have been permanently shattered and will never return. But maybe they will.
I suppose the part of me that doesn't like my body isn't actually upset about my body, but is really more upset about how everyone reacts to it. And how they don't keep their dumb-ass thoughts to themselves. Sure, they didn't used to do it in front of me, for the most part, but I knew. I knew what they said to each other about me. It would have taken them zero fucking effort for them to just be polite, but they're all just so pathetic and disgusting.
I move a hand down to cup my... pussy? No, my vulva. The weight on my chest returns. I keep my hand there, grit my teeth, and breathe through it. The gentle movements of the water start to itch against my shin again, but I ignore it. I am safe. I am alone. I am safe. I am alone. No one can see me. No one can hear me. No one's trying to see me. No one's trying to hear me. The mantra becomes more and more natural.
I press down softly. 'These are my labia. They help protect the rest of my vulva from the dirt and germs of the outside world. Thank you, majora and minora.' My fingers move a tad higher. 'This is my clitoris. It fuckin' rocks. Its sole purpose is to give me pleasure. Thank you, clitoris, for everything you do. And thank you, clitoral hood, for protecting it.' I probably should have included it with the labia thanking, but oh well.
I move my fingers down, right to my entrance. A shock goes through my body, telling me 'hey, maybe don't go in there,' so I just stay outside. It takes me a while to think the words, but I'm able to do it in the end. This is my vagina. My vagina is good. It is part of me. It is mine. I can use it to have sex, if I want to. It is mine. It belongs to me. Well, not just belongs to, but is a part of me. It is me. My body is me. All of it. It is all me, and it is all good. Every single part.'
I think I'm done here. I did what I came to do. Good job, Dite. As I swim towards the edge of the pond, I'm not sure if I feel better. Maybe I was just an idiot floating in a pond, touching herself everywhere and not even getting off. But I feel more like my body is part of me, and not something separate from my brain. My brain is part of my body. Everything my brain does affects my body, and everything my body does affects my brain.
I step out of the water, feeling my weight return now that I'm on land. I squeeze through the bushes one last time. My dress is right where I left it.
Ugh, sometimes I have these moments where I'm not the brightest. I forgot that I left my sandals near the edge of the pond, because I didn't take them off with my dress and didn't want to go back through the bushes to get them. Silly, silly me. At least I can laugh at myself now that I'm in a bit of a better mood. I squeeze back through the bushes.
Wait. I've done this before. I definitely remember that I was annoyed earlier at having to go through the scratchy bushes an unnecessary amount of times. So my sandals must be with my dress after all. Maybe they're under it? No, that wouldn't make sense. I definitely took off my sandals after I took off my dress. I look around the ground at the edge of the pond, just in case I'm having an extra dumb moment, but they're not there. I go back through the bushes, look under my dress, and then look around my dress, and the sandals aren't there either. Weird.
I put my dress back on, and start scanning the dirt in increasingly wide circles around where my dress was. I look behind trees. I look in trees. I pace around the woods, getting faster and faster as the area I've searched continues to grow. I stop myself. I'm going so fast that I probably already looked over the spot my sandals are in and just missed it. I double check the clearing.
Like a dark cloud moving over the sun, a realisation that I'd rather not think about envelops me. This was intentional. Someone took them. I know I left them where my dress was. I know it! There's no way they could have been moved away by accident. Someone took them!
What the fuck?!
Who fucking takes a person's sandals?! And why didn't I realise they were there? Fucking freak. Fucking freak. My heart races. Did they see me? Were they watching me? Is that why they took my sandals? So I'd know that they saw me, and that there was nothing I could do about it? That's so, so fucked up. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Why couldn't I sense them. I'm usually great at knowing when people are nearby. I should have been able to sense them, especially because they were focused on me.
This is so fucked. This is so fucked up! Why can't I have even the tiniest bit of privacy?! Why can't I just have one moment to myself in my entire life?! I sink to the ground. Fuck me. I hate this. It's really hard not to hate myself and my body when these things keep happening. I just want to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else. I punch the ground. And I scream again.
