The ritual of feeding and clothing Simmons continued for a few days after I volunteered for the job. Bringing him a tray of Mess Tent specials, perhaps a change of clothes when he stank badly enough that even for the MP smelled it from the outside and complained about it, was not a job I liked and it was one that I did not look forward to either, despite the good intention that it was. I was still teased for it though, but I didn't mind it at all when I could hold on own. However, I knew something was bound to happen sometime if I wasn't careful enough. That time came soon enough, was bound to come soon enough, and it wasn't too long before Simmons would make his mark. The simple act of revenge was a harsh, albeit sometimes reasonable, thing to do. Revenge was also a sweet thing to many people, even to me when the need arose. To Simmons, however, it had literally simmered for far too long and was willing to explode at any time.
While he cooked underneath that head of his, Simmons always sneered when I visited him until that day he saw me. That time, he was actually smiling, but it was one that teased me, haunted me in my dreams later on. It was one of the last times I saw the major, one visit out of three before he left Korea, and after Christmas that it all went down. It was the last sights of the monster I never wanted in the first damned place and the last times I saw him for who he really was.
"What brings you here, little whore?" Simmons asked me when I came in that day, knowing all about Hawkeye and our night in the Supply Room.
Ok, I mean, everybody knew about it (camp news, rumor or not, seem to spread rapidly) and said nothing because they knew it was coming, even Henry, I must say. However, to my surprise and even to Hawkeye's, nobody said anything about it (teasing or jokes, I mean). It just seemed like a normal night at the 4077th, even for us. I was pleased. To Simmons, I especially remained silent as a grave, not giving in to what he wanted, even if his torments annoyed me because of how close it went to my heart.
However, that was not quite the problem I was thinking about at the moment as I looked at Simmons, irritated that he was bothering me about Hawkeye. At the moment, I had no patience for his snide remarks and only wanted to be kind enough to being a meal (tomorrow, I was supposed to being him clothes, which grossed me out). That was all. So, I replied the best way I could. I was going to remind him of his punishment.
"Major Daniel Simmons, if that is what your name and rank are still, you pulled the book out on us and you are now suffering from our retribution because we did the same to you," I said lightly. "You are now accused and convicted of fraud, corruption, rape, sexual assault of a US Army officer, assault to two US Army officers and many other charges which I can never remember. You can ask Radar for more information, if you are so inclined. He has all of the paperwork."
I put the tray of food down on the small table by his cot, continuing. "You know I'm being nice and volunteering to help this lovely MP, since nobody else wants to help you and they need extra hands on deck and HQ doesn't like to help us out. I also have some spirit left to be kind, but it's given me a new perspective on everything, especially of you, and I thank Father Mulcahy for it." I paused then, thinking out loud, this time to mock Simmons right back and give him a piece of his own medicine. "You have no power at this point, Simmons. You never had any to begin with. You tried to protect yourself and take over the camp and you lost everything in your gambling. A man is sitting at Leavenworth because of your crimes. Now, why don't you cut down to the chase and tell me why you hate me so much?"
Simmons was not chained or shackled to anything, which made him more dangerous (in my opinion) and this scared me every time I went to drop off his things. Usually, like I said, he would torment me every time I came in, but for the first time ever, he would come up close to me, facing me with that icy blue stare that had chilled all of us the first time he came to the 4077th. He did it for a while, just leaving me transplanted into the ground with cement around my feet, and stared deeper into my soul.
The feeling of being stuck felt familiar, like I had been there before. I could not tell where it came from though, as if déjà vu was happening all over again and I could not reach back to see what the mistake was. The memories would not come to me, but the spirits of it were knocking on my head, screaming at me to run away and never return.
After a while, Simmons finally answered me, getting me out of my reverie as he turned his head away from me. "Captain, what I hate more is someone who thinks they have more power than I do. I despise women especially, who think they have the upper hand over me. When I met you for the first time, I had to make you suffer, even if you were happy with the one person you love. I knew you to be one of them."
"One of them? What do you mean, Simmons?" I was confused.
Simmons ignored the questions. Instead, he turned back to me and then moved closer once more, taking out his finger and tracing my face with it carefully, outlining the old, familiar lines on it that showed him my cares. He even found some news ones, wrinkles I had not paid attention to before, and grinned at seeing them.
"Sergeant Grant is now suffering under hard labor at Leavenworth for what he did to an officer, as I've heard," Simmons replied, smiling as he probably thought of what he got away with. "Would you allow me to do the same? Would you allow me to rot in a military prison for the rest of my days, degraded down to nothing, just as he was recently? One word from you or Captain Pierce and I'll be set free. The charges can be dropped. You can pull some influence with your father, if you tried."
This action, this touching of my face with his finger and then getting me bribed into something against my beliefs, was making me sick to my stomach. The voice behind it, seductive and secretive, made me want to throw up in his face. It made me very apprehensive of the situation, careful in everything from that point on, just in case he had something planned. Even when Simmons turned around did I reanalyze the situation and the feelings in my stomach turned worse. Something was wrong here.
Where was Simmons going with this? What's going on here?
My thoughts raced. I knew that Daddy mentioned Simmons being a rapist and I pointed it out to them when listing his charges (or what I knew of them when eavesdropping with Radar in Henry's office). However, I did not expect Simmons to try to seduce me. Mentioning it in my mind made my back stiffen as we stood there together, him still waiting on my answer. However, there was also the want to stay where I was, in order to know the inevitable and to work out the ending. I was now remembering, it was just like those times Clarence came to my bedroom at night and sexually abused me. There was no need to scream for help just yet and no need to run away. It was the curiosity that made me want to stay.
That was what made it so familiar, why it made me stay where I was…why I was transplanted by that gaze…it was Clarence and those memories. It had started all over again.
No. I didn't want to be there again. I was no whore. I was a woman reborn, a woman ready for her next serious relationship and developing one on the way. Why was I standing there with another rapist? Why should I tolerate it once more, reliving the worst moments of my life? Why should I have to live with the torment, tears and frustration, knowing that it would end the same way it had began?
I felt like I had no choice anymore. And that was when a need to escape filled me.
As soon as Simmons turned back to look at me, I spit in his eye in reply (hitting dead center of one), trying to get the invisible slime off of me. There was the chance to run and I took it. A foot stayed near the doorway and the other was poised to propel forward.
"You damned bitch!" Simmons yelled at me as he rubbed his eye, trying to get my saliva out.
"Damned right, I am one," I replied harshly, knowing that I was tougher than I felt, knowing that I was untouchable to Simmons or so I felt, as I turned away to go out. "Touch me again and you'll find out what I can do. I am capable of worse."
"Really, Captain?" Simmons asked as he stared back at me, his initial angry gone and the offending liquid out of his eye. "Are you really as rough-and-tumble as you show? Or are you just threatening me with that pathetic boyfriend of yours, your idiotic friends and that worthless commanding officer you call a father? Even your own blood father and brother can do nothing for you now because you never try."
I was fuming inside because of the insults and halted my own escape, but I didn't want Simmons to know about it, making him all warm inside. Like what Henry told me years ago, to fight with an idiot was taking yourself to their level and allowing them to beat you with some experience. Simmons was such, wanting me to be at his own level so he could beat me at his own game. However, his game was something I did not expect…something I provoked the last time I replied to him that day.
"Stick it, Simmons…if you know how to." It was my only response as I turned on my heel and went for the door once more, wanting to join Hawkeye in the Mess Tent and be rid of this animal for the rest of my days.
It was all I wanted. I wanted to join Hawkeye in the Mess Tent and to ask him for some time alone tonight because our first night in the Supply Room had been so special. I wanted to be with my lover, my sweetheart, in order to forget the compassion I was showing to a scumbag who hurt me the most. After all, I was only in the Christmas spirit, thanks to Father Mulcahy, and that was stretching pretty far right now. I would come back for more, and show Simmons how I feel, and it'll be over by January. He'll go to his rat hole in the States and brag about it, even if it is prison. We'll hear about him soon enough and shrug, working on the wounded, as we've always done since day one. We'd somehow forget about him and what had happened and move on with our lives.
However, I did not expect that, when Daddy accused him of those things a while back, Simmons was going to use it to his advantage and, for one last time, commit a crime of humiliation. He wanted something in the vein of severe revenge, for sure, to get back at me for everything. The stakes had gone higher and all he wanted was the prize, the ultimate one that shone in his blue eyes. All he wanted was a piece of the pie, to show that he too could grab it, share it, and then spit it back out because he had too much of it.
My thoughts were on Hawkeye usually in my off hours and Simmons knew it, resented it. He knew that Hawkeye had to do something about that egotistical attitude of mine, the one person always on my mind and in my heart. Simmons had to erase that for good.
Before I even opened the door and could get back out into the cold winds of Korea and join the real Christmas cheer once more, Simmons lunged for me, his large arms grabbing me by the waist and quickly throwing me onto his cot as the door slammed back into place. I had not realized what he had done until his face, that icy stare, was upon me. Then, he jumped on top of me, his pants zipper and buttons coming undone quickly in one flash. His Army boxers only covered him soon enough, green all around and hard underneath it all. I knew that he wanted something quick and I was his easy prey.
Then, I knew what I was up against. However, to get out of it was not the problem exactly. Not to repeat history was the problem I usually had with men that hate me more than anything in life, my stepfather included. I think Simmons knew it too. It was just another thing he could use to his advantage and use it well.
I looked up to my captor. Simmons' mouth was drooling saliva down his chin, his eyes slowly turning from blue to red and his face turned bright pink with each heavy breath he took, a flush on his face full of excitement. He sounded like a bull trying to rip my clothes off, a man out of breath and trying to recapture the air that is so readily given to him all at once. Even for these reasons, Simmons' appearance, and even the action itself, did not frighten me in the least, even if my mind was screaming for mercy and not pain. It had been so familiar to me, so much like a routine that I accepted it, regardless of the dangers it posed. I was more surprised that I laid there, just like an idiot, and allowed myself to be transplanted in something that I had escaped many years before.
"Do you want to tell me about mercy, Captain Jeanette Morrison?" Simmons asked me, scaring me for the first time in a while as he took a knife to my throat, something totally different from the movie script. "Do you want to tell me anything, hmmm? No yelling, remember now, or your pretty throat will be cut from ear to ear and they'll find you smiling blood."
I said nothing, wanting to scream all of a sudden, despite the new danger of death above me. I wanted some help to come quickly! However, at the same time…
Where is the MP? Where is he? When is he coming? I need him now!
"You have nothing to say, Captain?" Simmons licked his lips, sucking back up the saliva he was dripping from his mouth. "Of course, you know the drill, since you've been lovely bait to Clarence Lowes for so long. I've heard so many stories from your stepfather. I knew him briefly. He even showed me pictures of you and your brother, mentioning to me that you're prettier naked than in clothes. Let's see if he's right, hmm?"
"Get off of me!" I yelled loudly, trying to get out of his grip, but failing because his physical hold was tighter than the mental one. "Help me! Somebody, help me!"
"Ahh, such a pity, then, that I have to squish this lovely flower myself," Simmons said out loud, mostly to himself, taking his knife from my throat and dropping it on the floor. Then, he balled his fist and pulled back, a slow motion I could follow, and could not see to the end and could not stop in time.
I blacked out once more, thinking about Hawkeye and wishing he could be there to help me.