Spies

Chapter 19

NB: 

WARNING 18+: Hints and Mention of Rape.

Read at one's own discretion

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Calliope's Point of View

They had me, and inevitably, the rest of the agency. It's not that I would give all the agency's information at a moment's notice, it's that certain angles of this situation may appeal to certain people that work there. It would give the bad guys the opportunity to manipulate any one of my colleagues.

It has only been a couple hours since the incident at the house, I checked, thanks to expert training. They had driven around for roughly twenty minutes, seemingly in circles, before riding an uneven path to this destination. They then dragged me from the car into a building and dropped me roughly to the ground of a storage room. By now, my new designer outfit was surely dirty, wrinkled and uncomfortable. They then released the ropes that held my arms behind my back and the bag from my head, and left before I could get my bearings to have a good look at the culprits.

I looked around at my surroundings. The room had no lights, only a small window to the top of the 50ft wall. No furniture either in the room, only a few cushions on the floor with a pillow and a dirty blanket. Dirty clothes also added to the mix on the make-shift bed, those of a large man, at least taller and bigger than me.

I can't believe I got myself into this mess.

I had faith though. Gaia, no one could faze her. Unless there was alcohol involved though. We have been friends for years, sisters is more like it to me. I know her well enough that she will come looking for me, even when no one else would.

Chara, in the moments I have known her, she too was strong minded and confident. Smart, witty, no one would try to use me as a bargaining chip to lure her out. She had to be all these and more to handle Gaia as her partner.

Alex, still unsure about him. He acts as if he does not care but his eyes held something more as I was taken away. Hearing his footsteps move with hesitation after me and the intruders meant something...right? Was I reading too much into this? The row emotion that passed between us, that could not be faked. On the other hand, he keeps sending me mixed signals. Holding me, then going and sleep with someone else. The constant flirting with me and then flirting with every other girl that passes near us, or at least, him. The almost kiss in the elevator when we first met. What does all of this mean?

Just as I contemplated, moreso on Alex and our complicated relationship, the door to the room creaked open, letting in the burly figures and the light from the hallway. Three men walked into the room, all dressed in black, all with masked faces.

"Get up," the one in the middle sternly ordered. It was then I noticed an accent, familiar to me, but I could not place it.

"I don't know about this dude," said one of the others, holding a similar bag to the one that was previously on my head. "She's an agent. They're probably looking for her as we speak."

"And? They'll never find us here," the third man spoke. I could see his eyes roaming my body as I laid on the cold hard floor, unbound but still helpless.

"I already took care of that," he replied, a dangerous smirk on his masked face. "Now let's have a little fun with this one, eh," he said stepping towards me.

"I thought you would never ask," the third one said, warming up his hands and following the first. "Haven't had any since boss recruited us for this job."

Then, the two began to do the unthinkable, one holding me down and the other undressing me. I tried to fight them off, but two highly trained and armed men against one woman would always be unmatched. The third man, he had a fearful posture in his initial spot by the door, not moving an inch or saying a word, just standing there.

I began having flashbacks, those I did not want to remember but ones I cannot seem to forget. Years of therapy and time trying to resort back to my normal self, wasted.

Why was this happening to me again? was all I thought as the act continued.

*****

I laid there, the cold ground my only support. I could not even muster the energy to move, blink or speak. Time passed, unknown to me. I have not been able to count or care since the men left. It could have been minutes, hours, days, I do not know. Memories kept playing over and over in my head, gut-wrenching ones that had kept me broken for years.

"You wanted to see me, Mr Romani," I had said, stepping into his classroom. He had opened the door for me, a few seconds after I had knocked.

I remembered the feeling a long time ago, similar to what I was feeling now. Helpless. Vulnerable. Dirty. Used. I had vowed after many attempts to gain some sort of normalcy that I would never feel this way again, that no one would ever feel this way again under my watch.

"What are you doing?" I had asked, as he proceeded to lock the door and looked at me with hungry eyes.

I was just a junior in High School when it happen, barely knowing anything about life, having been home schooled before being place there.

"Sir, stop," I screamed as he grabbed me roughly and ripped my uniform off, threatening that if I spoke or screamed again, he would kill me.

He then did what he intended, me not screaming for fear of my life, him making sexual noises and sounds as he took my innocence.

The feelings I had then were what inspired my drastic career shift in my youth. From dreaming to becoming a brilliant author to an agent of the law. Nothing or no one was going to stop me. I have paved my way through the rest of high school, therapy sessions, college, life, all to not feel that way again.

I have lied to everyone in my life, including myself. My therapist back then only knew the surface of my true feelings. After that event, I mentally and emotionally locked myself away into the corners of my mind, not wanting to return to reality. Even my parents, who had been called when I was found later that day, did not know the extent to what had happened.

The flashbacks, of the first time I had been raped to my current situation, were all coming together, showing similarities, overwhelming me. I found myself crying on the floor of the room as a loud sob wracked my entire body. Did I truly allow myself to cry the first time? When was the last time I had felt truer emotion like this?

I did not know for how long I laid there crying, my naked back soaking up the coldness for I could not bare the thought or conjure the dignity to put on my torn, dirty clothes. I did not even wipe the tears from my face, allowing myself to grieve for the very first time in a long time. Why did this happen to me again?