Guerreiro Tavares trained half of his life to be in a mercenary guild. Assassinated people and served criminals. A corpsman when he was in the Navy SEAL but perplexed when he was mandated to watch over a woman in a vegetative state.
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A PIECE OF meat. They keep reminding me that's what I am. I refuse to believe them. It's vivid that their goal is to morph me into an empty shell and I will never give them the pleasure of that. Though I admit, the words are like millions of spiders crawling in my brain, attempting to eat what's remaining. I can't deceive myself.
I loathe the contradictory thoughts inside my head. I'm holding on but my current situation is breaking all of those ties, strings by strings.
Am I even living? Solely breathing perhaps. No person could ever claim that they are living in this condition. The sustainability of my hydration was from the faucet in the comfort room, thankfully from the sink and loaves of bread in a disposable plate served by those mercenaries. Because what choice do I have? If I'd starve myself, I'd get bruises and crack ribs in exchange. I don't want that, it hurts even more when they are... taking me.
I lost count of how many men have been inside this body. Shit. So, I was counting?
When I thought that it couldn't get worse because of everything I experienced, it did. There's always someone who's crueler. I can't shut everything down.
Everyone who violated me except Lorik were those soldiers. They all had the same uniform and logo. Everyone's intentions were palpable from the beginning unlike the first one who pretended he would save me. Is that better?
No. Every single thing is fucking worst in here. I wanted to survive. So bad.
One has a knife. A combat knife to be precise. I bawled and begged him because he insinuated he would fuck me using it. But he never listened to my pleas. He grazed my inner thighs with the blade, drawing blood, and penetrated my sphincter using the handle. I was so terrified I anticipated my death. There were pools of blood on the bed that had dried and no one even bothered to notice or change it.
He mentioned that women were loose when they are relaxed and comfortable with their partner but tighter when they are terrified that's why he prefers slaves... oh, fuck. My tears were cascading down my cheeks and I wiped it harshly. I am a fucking sex slave. That fact did not register in my mind until he said it. I always thought of myself as a rape victim not that... I sighed and choked because my throat was burning because of my cries.
Lorik allowed them to cause bruises and wounds on my body but not too deep or enough that would require stitches and a doctor. I have no wide open cuts that would lead to infection. It is evident that he wouldn't spend a single penny on me.
Instead of paying those soldiers, he's using my body. That's my fucking purpose here. I am the one who's giving him that. No. Wrong. They're taking it away from me. When I'm on the verge of healing, another several injuries come. It's a repetitive cycle and why am I not getting used to it?
The torments hurt more than the previous one. I can't evade all the affliction.
My life before here was non-existent. Hell, I totally forgot what it feels like. It seems like it was decades ago.
