Rifiuto: Non Miriena

He could tell right away where the memory took place.

Afghanistan.

But he couldn't say where.

Four people were escorted through a small courtyard area, forced into a house, and then taken down several flights of stairs before reaching a dungeon-like basement area. Six men in Arab military garb escorted them down, three holding guns to their backs.

And then, he realized what was going on.

Prisoners. The four were prisoners of war. He turned to Jo, but she watched with dry, blank eyes as the memory played itself out.

"You weren't- these were guys in your tour- not... not you." He said, but even as he said that, one of the men in Arab garb shoved one of the prisoners to the stone floor. He yanked the person up, and for the first time, Zane got a good look at one of the hostages.

Jo.

He shook his head. "No. You... you weren't-" She lowered her head.

The man leaned close, whispered something to her in his own language, and she turned to look at him. She spoke back to him in his tongue, spitting rage coursing through her body. He yanked her up to a standing position by her hair, that had come undone, and shoved her up against a wall. The others couldn't do anything; all four were bound and held at gunpoint.

The man who had Jo forced her arms up, pressing himself against her, and she closed her eyes, turning her head away.

"Get off of her!" Her eyes snapped open, and she looked over, seeing Marks being restrained, the barrel of the gun held by one of the men placed directly under his chin.

Jo turned away, unable to watch, but forced to remember. Zane put the pieces together as he watched, before turning to Jo.

"He... raped you. And... and you did... nothing."

"There was nothing I could do. Unless I wanted to end up dead." She replied, looking up at him. He nodded.

The hostages were blindfolded and left to themselves in the basement. They spent the nights talking to each other, telling stories and reliving happy times. Days passed, weeks.

"How long will we be here?"

She shrugged, looking up at the man. "Until they either kill us or the war ends."

"It'll never end." Kyle said, laying his head back against the wall. Eventually, two of the hostages were taken out and executed, unbeknownst to Jo or Kyle. They ate little, had little water, and lots of time to think. Eventually, two of the men came downstairs, yanked Jo to her feet, and chained her to the wall, her hands over her head.

Zane found himself thinking, that if the situation hadn't been so dire, it would almost have been kinky.

One man yanked Kyle to his feet, forced him to face the wall, and pointed a gun to the back of his head.

"Don't hurt him, please." She cried, watching. The two men said something to each other, before the one near Kyle cocked the gun. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Joey, don't. We don't know anything, and they'd just kill us afterwards!" She shook her head.

"I can't... I'd rather die than see you get hurt."

"Damn it, Joey, keep your mouth shut!" The two men watched the hostages argue, before one of them got fed up, and fired. Jo let out a cry as Kyle dropped to the ground, blood and brain matter spraying the wall and Jo. She turned back to the man who'd raped her that first night, and swallowed, sniffling. After a moment, the man reached up, grabbing her hair. He asked her in Arabic what she knew, but she kept quiet.

"I didn't know anything. I was trying to keep us both alive."

Zane didn't reply.

When she didn't answer, he struck her, slamming her head back against the stone. Then, he forced his mouth on hers, taking advantage of her imprisoned state.

Zane turned away, unable to watch. Instead, he watched Jo, saw the tears slide down her cheeks. After a moment, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms and holding her against his chest.

Hours and days passed; she spent the majority of her time chained to the wall, beaten, raped, abused like a sex slave on the black market. When she was allowed to be unchained, she sat in the corner, humming lullabies and telling stories, recalling old memories. She talked to herself, trying to keep herself sane, until she began to wonder if she'd gone insane instead.

"'Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring. If that diamond ring don't shine, Mama's gonna buy...'" She looked up, it was just the one man.

He reached down, yanked her to her feet, and shoved her against the wall, ripping at her already tattered clothes. She turned her head, allowing him, telling herself that this was to keep herself alive, that she was like that girl that had gone missing, and that this was what she had to do to survive. She clutched the gold chain her mother had given to her when she was a child, pressing the metal into her skin, a reminder of her family, and how she couldn't leave them.

Not like this.

When the man finished, he shoved her to the ground, taking the butt of his gun and slamming it into her skull. When she awoke hours later, she was alone, surrounded by the dark, her vision foggy and her mind nothing but snow.

"I thought I saw my mom sitting beside me. So I started talking to her. It was the only thing that kept me alive."

Zane rubbed her back, tears in his eyes.

She looked up. In her feverish mind, she saw her mom sitting beside her. "I was supposed to come home after my first tour. Go on a couple more and then retire. Meet someone and marry him. Have his babies and be his wife. I don't want to die, Mama. I don't want to. I'm scared to."

"You aren't supposed to, Josefina, my love. Not like this, anyway. You'll die in the arms of the man you love, old and gray and surrounded by grandchildren. You won't die like me. You won't die young."

"I love you, Mama."

When she looked up at the sound of footsteps, she saw the outline of a man, a soldier, carrying a gun. He said something she couldn't hear, and then he knelt down to pick her up as she slipped into unconsciousness and her grip on the chain loosened.

"They found me in time to get me to a medical hospital. Severe dehydration, malnutrition, physical, mental, emotional, sexual abuse... I was hooked up to monitors for days. And turns out that ass knew to use protection every time." She took a deep breath.

"When you're ready, Jojo." Zane whispered.

"Come to find out, when I was sent home, that we'd been in that dungeon for nearly two months. I spent another week in that dungeon by myself after Kyle was killed. I was... awarded the purple heart for being wounded during combat- before being taken hostage." She pulled away, looking up at Zane. "I didn't deserve that medal. I don't. Kyle and... they didn't deserve to die like that. None of them. I was a coward who saved myself instead of them..." She burst into tears, burying her face in his chest. He held her tight, stroking her back.

"You're not a coward, Jojo. You did what you had to to survive. There's nothing cowardly about fighting to live, even when you're pretending to give up."