MENTIONS OF RAPE (IT DOESN'T GO INTO DETAIL OBVIOUSLY WHAT DO YOU SEE ME AS 😂)
Winter
The next three minutes went like this:
"Let's call Turtle," Kinkajou said. And boom, he was there.
"Let's find you a wig," she said, and boom, there was an extremely realistic wig by his side.
When he asked her why she had such a realistic one, she stated she was into cosplaying and that the wig was her prized possession. Then a murderous look that said, if you hurt my baby, you will pay.
He turned, terrified, at Turtle. Which wasn't much better. Because Turtle was staring at him in a strange way, and when he asked him what was the matter, he didn't reply.
Kinkajou wrinkled her nose. "I don't know if I can find you a set of clothes. You're so TALL."
He blinked. "Maybe—"
"Less talking, more moving!" Kinkajou said, although she was the only one moving.
He scratched his head and started to tru the wig on, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry."
"Why?" He asked, blushing because he couldn't get the hair right. Then he knew why. Because of the notes.
In the locker. Just a piece of paper, just three little words that had so much power. Go kill yourself.
"I can't make it up to you," Turtle said hurriedly. "But I will try. I'm not asking for an apology. I'm kind of apologizing because, well, it was wrong. What I did, I mean. Well, of course it was, I just wanted to say sorry and all—"
"Woah, it's fine," he said, tugging on the wig.
Turtle widened his eyes. "But it's not! It's not okay. What I did to you. What I said to Moon. I— it wasn't right." He ug his face into his hands. "God, I feel so ashamed."
He smiled and reached out, patting Turtle's arm, then drawing back hurriedly when he flinched. "But you're apologizing. And I'm forgiving."
Turtle stared at him, and then the floor. "I don't know why I did it. Actually, I do. I was so jealous. You made everything seem effortless, and maybe if I was as perfect as you, Mom would notice—" His cheeks burned. "I mean, no, nothing. Forget it. Wait, you can't, right?"
"My mother didn't," he said, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was bitterness, or relief, or maybe pain. "She didn't notice. She never did. She only noticed my mistakes." He clenched his fists. "Maybe you should stop going for people who would never notice you. Maybe you should change targets." He sighed. "Sorry. I dont mean to be rude."
Turtle shrugged, although he seemed a little hurt. "You're right, though."
"Or maybe you can find something— like a hobby— that you guys share." He said, trying to sound cheerful.
"We both like writing," Turtle whispered, like he was afraid the words, if spoken too loud, would hurt him.
"There!" He said, feeling awkward. He felt like a school counselor. "Maybe you can write something and show her."
He smiled. "Thanks." He breathed in deeply. "I always admired you, Winter. Well, at first I did because you seemed perfect. But now I admire you because you have been through hell and you're still a good person, like you always were."
I've never received an apology before.
Maybe the tapes were only one story. Thirteen sides, yes, but only one.
Before he could reply, Kinkajou threw a bag of clothes at his face.
"Take off your clothes," she said. Then she widened her eyes. "Wait, that sounded wrong."
(Did you get the reference XP)
Turtle was stifling a laughter. "We'll leave you to change," he said, giving him a relived smile.
"Let's do this," he said, shutting the door behind them.
~
Moon
They were taking her to a room.
"Where...am...I..?" She mumbled. She could barely get the words right. Everything was distorted, contorting into weird shapes.
"You're in the Torture Room," a woman in a white jacket said, checking off something on her clipboard.
"...Why?" She said, blinking her eyes rapidly. Her mind was slowly closing.
"You disobeyed Darkstalker's orders, of course. What else would it be?" She reached out and tilted Moon's chin, making her shiver. "A pretty girl like you."
Something about her smile was so foggy. It reminded her of the days when she woke up early every morning for a mission. A terrible feeling in her stomach, even more guilt.
"Why else indeed?" The doctor repeated, a small, nasty smile on her face. "I will come back tomorrow. You're lucky today— you will barely feel any pain before you fall asleep. But you will agree to his orders by then, trust me. Or you will go through the torture over and over again." She leaned down so Mook could hear her words more clearly.
"And it will go on forever, and if you, by all chances, are not cooperative by then, we will insert a chip into your brain, and the torture will go in your little pretty mind of yours...forever."
She dashed out, afraid, oh, so afraid— but her arm was weakless, unable to suppport her. She was too weak. She was always too weak.
"Enjoy your time. See you tomorrow." The doctor patted her cheek and walked away from the bed. A man was also there, dressed just like the woman. She whispered something in his ear, and he grinned.
She shuddered. "Help," she gasped. Every word was painful, and it hurt so much that she wanted to close her eyes and drift away in a dream.
Anywhere else then here, she thought.
The woman walked out of the room, leaving her alone.
Almost.
The man came closer, his hair pushed back, his face white and emotionless, just like the others. She glared at him.
Then something flashed in his eyes, but her vision was so foggy. It hurt to even open her eyes, she was so tired. Terribly tired.
"Help," she whispered.
The man stared at her like she was a doll, ignored her plea like she was worthless. Like she had no emotions, like she was lifeless.
He reached out and brushed his hand against her, blinking slowly.
She shivered. "Help," she tried again. "I-I need help. My friends—"
"Shh," he said.
She tried to speak again, but he blocked her mouth with his hand. She tried to scream, but she couldn't.
Pieces of clothing fell to the floor, one by one. All she could see was a flash of the man's eyes. And it horrified her more than anything.
She closed her eyes, and something flashed in her mind, a memory.
The rain. The cold. The faint smell of horses, the hay, the smell of freshness from the rain and nature.
Winter's blue, blue eyes. Staring into hers. The sound of water dropping, splashing against the ground. His hand, slowly drawing her closer, gently, beautifully.
"I'm in love with you, Moon," he whispered, and her heart was thumbing so hard, so loud.
His gentle, desperate kiss. A kiss that needed no words, a kiss that seemed like a dream. A painful, heart-wrenching kiss because their love wasn't meant to be. A tortured kiss, a kiss between two pained souls.
Winter.
Then back to reality, her wrists pinned down at her sides, bursts of pain everywhere.
She tried desperately to cling back to the memory, but it slipped from her grasp. Tears were forming in her eyes, and it hurt.
Winter.
Stop, she begged quietly in her mind. Stop everything. Stop the pain.
She remembered hearing muffled screams from her mother's bedroom. Perhaps this was why, and she felt a shudder.
Morrowseer, dying, his blood spilling, his eyes calling to her: come here, daughter.
Winter.
He was right all along, she thought. Life is a set of dominoes. Events after another. Pain after pain. Happiness, only to be torn apart.
Life isn't fair.
The man breathed against his ear, and she shuddered. She closed her eyes and struggled, but he didn't let go. He was laughing softly, and she was terrified.
She was a doll, caught in this man's traps. The tears were waterfalls of sadness, of what she did and what she regretted and what she wished she had done.
"Not so brave now, little girl?" The man whispered, satisfaction in his voice.
A flow of nausea overtook her, and she closed her eyes, tasting the pain, the tears.
"You will never," she gasped through gritted teeth, struggling to get the words across, hating the fact that he was so easily controlling her. Hating that she was so afraid. Hating that she hadn't been able to protect anyone. But she knew this. She knew it in her heart. Because she was stronger than they thought. "Break me."
~
I hate writing about rape, sex slavery and whatnot, but it is a matter that needs to be discussed. Comfort Women, for example. And so much more cases where women were raped like some lifeless dolls. Like they have no feelings or emotions.
It doesn't help to just say "that's horrible." If you can help by writing a piece of something that will inspire people to speak against rape, or do somethimg against it, do it.
If you can get an apology for raped women, participate. If you have a chance to stand up for someone, do it. If you see justice being denyed, looking the world in the eyes and tell them the truth.
I admit, I don't do much. And people always tell me that what I do won't ever make a difference. But every one of us do make a difference, we just don't know it.
Someone in the world remembers you. Someone always will. Make sure they remember you in a good way.
Moon out!