Walk The Line

Chapter Seven: Truth Be Told

Making sure that we remember yeah
Cause we all matter too
If the truth has been forbidden
Then we're breaking all the rules

Emeli Sande – Read All About It (Part 3)

Thirteen years ago.

Sara was bleeding. She could feel the red hot tear trickling down the apple of her pale cheek from the stinging cut just underneath her left eye. The tang of copper hung heavily in the air, she could taste it on her tongue as she took breath after agonising breath. The pressure was crushing down on her chest even worse than before constricting her ability to even gasp against the excruciating pain radiating from her abdomen. She was going to die here, she harbored no illusions of rescue or mercy. Any naivety she had had been shattered the moment that bastard batarian had laid war on their home and murdered both of her parents before her eyes.

The laminate kitchen flooring felt cold underneath her spine as she lay completely paralysed by the burning torment in her lower gut. Her small hands were clutching the remains of her snow white apron trying to use the cotton to stifle the bleeding. She knew that it was too late for that, the bullet had tore through her young flesh, shredding everything in it's path. She needed immediate medical attention but there would be no aid. There was ice in her veins, it was chasing through her system like a tsunami, dulling the sensations that plagued her body. She could feel herself beginning to tremble as black spots danced in her vision and she knew the end was near. She welcomed death, it was a sweet release from the anguish she had endured at the hands of Balak the batarian.

She remembered the stench of his rancid breath on her face as his hand had clutched her jaw, his talons digging into her sensitive flesh as he trapped her lithe form between the table and his overbearing body. She could feel every single inch of him pressed up against her and she couldn't hide her revulsion and that sickening terror as his free hand sought out the hem of her yellow summer dress. He got off on that, she could tell from the way his beady pupils dilated when he looked into her panic-stricken features. She wanted to cry out for her father but he was already dead, she could see his dull, lifeless eyes staring at her from across the room over Balak's shoulder.

He had shoved the dress up causing it to bunch at her hips as his talons scraped along her thigh, increasingly getting harder until they broke through her milky skin leaving rivets of blood trailing down her leg.

"I want you to scream." he had hissed, his gravelly voice grating through her brain as her hand flailed behind her in search of anything she could use to defend herself.

She would rather have died than become his whore, she knew what slavers did with girls like her. They sent them to whorehouses to work off their debts or kept them as pets after inserting that monstrous cranial implant. She couldn't go through that, she wouldn't allow herself to be violated and used in such a manner.

Her slender fingers had curled around that sharp blade, the one that she had been cutting apples with for pie before Balak had broken in. She gripped the handle tight in her fist as he used his grasp on her jaw to tilt her head way from him revealing her vulnerable throat. He buried his face in her long red hair, the sound of him inhaling her scent sent a violent shiver of horror echoing through her.

"I'm going to fuck you raw." he whispered, his sulphurous breath burning in her ear.

The howl he made when she stabbed him gave Sara the greatest satisfaction imaginable. She felt his body sag against her as those beady black eyes focused on her surprise and malice. The contact made her skin want to crawl right off her bones and she shoved him as hard as she could away from her, hoping and praying that the vegetable knife she had plunged between his ribs had hit something vital. He staggered a few steps backwards until he came to rest against the kitchen counter opposite. Vivid red blood was dripping out of his side where the knife still resided and Sara found herself surprised that the bastard didn't bleed black. His hand was already going for the pistol in his waist holster. Sara darted for the door, her bare feet slapping against the laminate as she lunged for the exit.