Off The Beaten Path

Battlefield Casualty

WARNING NONCONSENSUAL DETAILS

MATURE THEMES THROUGHOUT

ONLY WARNING

She closed her eyes tightly, though that didn't stop the tears from spilling out as hot as her suppressed rage.

Her mind wandered to different days, days where her husband would bring her wildflowers and her boys played in their little cobblestone yard. The grass had grown in patches around the smooth stones. She had liked to walk barefoot back then. She'd tease her husband about steak for dinner, he'd laugh and respond with a quip about his growth spurt long overdue. His beautiful hazel brown eyes would dance with green sparks of mischief.

Back then. The grunt from the heaving monster above her broke the sweet spell of reminisce.

She screwed her eyes tighter, blooms of red erupted behind her lids from pressure. Her hands knit into biting fists despite being restrained with bruising force. Her other senses tormented her in lieu of her vision.

Smell.

Sweat, pungent and powerful rolled off the pulsing, shuddering form above her. That crisp, sharp scent the cold of a dry winter day always brought with it. The familiar musk of her pathetic cot, just inches from the ground. The stench of fear from the army sent to slay the Titans.

Fodder for the monsters more like.

Sounds.

The wind whispering around the tent. Moans from those traumatized- unable to escape the horror of their lives even in sleep. The soft snores of her children beside her, sleeping soundly despite the horror happening within arms reach. The whines and gasps and soft, mewling protests of other women being taken advantage of as she was. The cries of other children unable to sleep; missing a fallen family member, missing home.

Touch.

The wet skin slapping into her. Her aching thighs, her tense, stiff, sore legs. Her feet blistered and bleeding. Her body creating lubrication to avoid increased damage. His hands tightening on hers, digging into her flesh as he neared his completion.

She turned her head to the side, tears long gone. Her body wasn't her own. It belonged to some other creature residing within her. One that brewed and mulled over every evil thing that had happened. One that sat in the darkness of her soul and plotted; sharpening its claws and teeth for revenge.

Her eyes had fallen open. She wasn't sure when. In the darkness she could make out her sons, sleeping peacefully. Their heads bowed together in the center of their shared cot. Their hair was too long. The man above her shuddered as she thought to let it grow out. He withdrew from her, pulling his pants back up and striding away to the man waiting just outside the flap of the shoddy tent.

The cold blew in like a slap; easing the burning in her thighs, snapping her back into herself. She moaned quietly, drawing her legs to her chest, pressing her tingling hands against her mouth. Tears flooded again, dripping from her face in a cold staccato.

It had only been minutes. It had felt like an eternity. An eternity of invasion, of betrayal. And as her exhausted body shut down, piece by agonized pieced, her mind took her back.

Back then...