My Angel of the Dawn (WomanxBoy, ManxBoy, Sci-Fi + Romance)

***7***

It was night by the ship-time, all the lights out, the engines humming smoothly. Nelsa lay in her bed, listening to the darkness, trying to determine what woke her up. Then she heard it again: rustling of sheets, soft moaning. It's just the boy having a nightmare, she thought, laying still, hoping he would quiet down and go back to sleep. After all, she wasn't his mother or babysitter. It's not her job to pet him on the head and tuck him up to sleep.

There was another moan, followed by words, "Please, don't, please! Let me go, I beg of you, no, don't..."

The sound of sobbing finally did her in. Nelsa jumped out of bed, turned the lamp on and kneeled by the boy. He was tossing about, eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks. He kept on begging, his voice as tiny and desperate as a child's, "No, don't, don't, please!"

"Wake up, lad, goddamn you!"

Nelsa shook him, and he opened his eyes — mad with terror, unseeing. He cried out and pushed her away, trying to break loose, saying the same words over and over again, like a prayer. She stopped his resistance by putting her arms around him, almost hugging him.

"It's a dream, Ariel. It's just a dream, do you hear me?" she said right into his ear, in a calm and steady voice. "No one will hurt you, calm down. It's all in the past, they aren't here. It's just a nightmare. Do you hear me, Ariel?"

Shaking all over, he hugged her back and hid his face on her chest. Almost involuntarily, and slightly surprised by herself, Nelsa reached out and run her hand over his hair. For years she had never even considered taking such liberties with another person. Then the boy started talking, in a low feverish voice, full of pain. It took some time for the meaning of his words to sink in, and then it pierced her heart.

"They killed my father. I thought it was the worst thing ever, the most hideous... They put him against the wall and shredded him up with their blasters... But in a few hours I craved for the same kind of death for myself. I cried for mercy, I begged them to kill me, but they laughed, just laughed..."

"Stop it, stop, don't," Nelsa tried to end his litany.

Still ensnared in the nightmare, he didn't hear her, didn't know where he was, whom he was talking to, what he was saying. He couldn't stop himself from pouring his heart out. The memories stung him, burned him.

"I was not ready for this. I had no idea, no one had ever told me! They tore off my clothes and tossed me on a mattress naked, and I didn't even realize what they were going to do! Seven, there were seven of them; I counted, in order to detach myself, to rationalize, to avoid going mad. I tried so hard to pretend it was not me they were doing it with. As if I were just watching... watching them beat me up for resisting them. Then they raped me and beat some more. At the end I was doing everything they wanted, even sucked them. It was better that way, less painful, because otherwise... Oh my God, it hurt so much, there was blood, they tore me up down there. At first I thought I would never beg, never cry. And then I was crying like a baby, all the time, while I still could. I begged them to let me go, to kill me. They just laughed and fell on me, one after another, or two at a time. When the last man was through with me, the first one was ready again. I prayed to lose consciousness, to feel nothing, to die, but there was no such mercy for me. They did it again a few times — dragged me to their quarters and sent me round, but I was out of it most of the time and remember little. The next thing I knew I came to at Master Alric's and learned that I was a slave now, a property. I was sold to him as livestock, as merchandise!"

He'd better seek sympathy elsewhere, right, Nelsa? His story could revive your own demons. They'll come to torture you at night like ten years ago. How would you like to wake up again to your own screams, with your face wet with tears, like before?

"Shut up!" she cried out hoarsely, shuddering. "Shut up!"

She couldn't say whom she addressed, Ariel or her inner voice — her bitter, cynical alter ego, her plague for so many years.

The boy flinched and fell silent. Her harsh order seemed to bring him to his senses. He stirred, moved away from her and sat up, keeping his eyes down.

"Please forgive me, Mistress Nelsa. It won't happen again if you give me some sleeping pills."