T265 escaped the horrific violation from the younger Daxton by escaping into her imagination where at least there she was free.
The soft breeze mocked T265 as it blew dust through the Strand. Pain lingered and burned with each step as she hobbled along. The oppressive attention from the Is, Gs, and Ts offered not even a modicum of comfort.
The intense stare of a large G burned into her as she passed. There was a cherub quality to his face that in another situation would be adorable, but that day insulted her.
At least the bruises on her face distracted from the brown stains that hid along the creases of her pant legs. The taste of vomit stained her tongue as anger she didn’t recognize echoed in her memory. Everything since the bus ride that morning existed in a fog that her mind couldn’t penetrate. The only clear memory was the guard forcing her from the bus and into the quadrant moments ago.
The infection of filth in her mouth drew bile into her throat. Echoes of rough fingers and warm metal screamed to her in terrible flashes. The reasons for her condition escaped her understanding, save for the fact that she understood that she was to blame.
EmCee rushed from G Barracks with Boy and Sir right behind her. They stopped short just in front of T265 and EmCee held her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. “Who hurt you baby?”
T265 stopped and struggled to focus through the blurry figures that she knew enough to recognize as safety. However, she couldn’t manage the impossible task of facing them and just stared at the ground instead. The weight of an arm on her shoulder sent a shockwave through her body that made her yelp.
A gasp came from behind her.
“I know,” EmCee said.
“There’s blood,” Sir whimpered.
A gentle touch caressed T265’s arm and eased it over someone’s shoulder.
“She needs medical,” Boy said to her right.
“No,” EmCee snapped. “They take one look at her, say she asked for it, and she’s up on the Spire.” She got them moving again towards the end of the Strand. “She needs a shower.”
“That ain’t for another two days,” Boy said.
Dust billowed into the air as T265 shuffled her feet along the ground between F and L barracks. Her legs grew weak.
“We got you Sport.”
Only the crunch of their feet on the dirt and gravel interrupted the silence until they came to a stop in front of the Officer Station attached to the showers.
CO Calderon flipped through the pages of his gun magazine from behind the plexiglass. He paid little attention as EmCee sauntered towards the window and stretched her body against the glass with a level of luxury that was beyond audacious.
T265 managed to regain her focus and settled her gaze on Boy. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“We’re sisters,” Boy replied. There was a level of certainty in her statement that carried with it a promise which brought T265 comfort.
CO Calderon nodded and bit his lower lip before he left the desk and walked into the station. EmCee waved the girls forward, and the groan of the metal doors shook the air. He waved in Boy, Sir, and T265 with an annoyed grimace.
“Fifteen minutes.” CO Calderon walked into a side hallway that led back into the Officer Station.
EmCee nodded to them and took a deep breath. “I gotta make good on the deal, but you get her cleaned up.” EmCee started toward the Officer Station and turned around. ‘Give her ten minutes before helping her wash. Just let her be in the water.” She disappeared down the hallway.
T265 shuffled along, flanked by Boy and Sir. Her steps grew in synch with the dripping water. There was comfort in that cadence. Her feet hitting the ground filled her memory with sounds of the Christmas music her marching band played in the winter parade her senior year.
She scatted a beat in her head until they stepped into the light of the shower room. The tiny windows of frosted plexiglass along the ceiling were big enough to squeeze through, not that anybody would. After years of showering with forty-nine men, the thought of seeing another penis made her want to vomit.
“Do you need help undressing?” Sir asked.
T265 shook her head.
It was a nice gesture, but the thought of being touched made her want to scream. She slipped out of her shoe. The lingering moisture on the floor soaked through the bottom of her socks, which were promptly stripped off and tucked away. Her toes wriggled against the cold tile for a moment before she took off her shirt and handed it to Sir. Her thumbs tucked under her waistband and slid her pants past her hips.
“Just drop it on the ground, gonna trash those.”
The carnage within her pants gave her pause. Streaks of dark brown along the back and inseams contrasted the splotches of crimson on the seat.
The memory of seeing that Pollock painting in Nebraska came to mind as, for a moment, she found a hint of beauty in the horrific composition. It was curious, and she struggled to place why they looked so demolished.
Her memory flashed. The stench of beer filled her nostrils. The sour taste of him filled her mouth. She doubled over, her stomach clenched, and bile splashed onto the portrait of her rape.
After the last heave, she spat on the ground in a paltry act of defiance.
When spent, she forced her quaking legs to stand and stumbled to the center shower head on the left wall. With a twist of the knob, the water exploded into a torrent of icy needles into the hot skin of her chest. There was no reveling in the relief; it only drummed through the walls in her mind.
She threw herself into the water meant to cleanse her of her iniquity, and it careened off her face. Out of instinct, she tried to run her fingers through her long, wavy, brown hair.
Instead, they found only sunburnt scalp and stubble. As much as the hate churned within, she struggled to drive it into his chest where it belonged. No, it coiled inward with tainted rumination. Without fighting back, she let it happen.
He should have just killed her. The thought hollowed her out and she crumbled to her knees.
Water flew into the air as she struck her fists into the puddles on the tile. Every frame of her memory played through her sobs as the water rained down. Every touch, every throb, and every bit of violence was all laid bare where she could no longer hide it away. Only one thing remained that could be done.
She screamed.
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