I am sunbathing on the deck of the Overture, our sailboat. . Empo is swimming restlessly nearby, teasing to get me into the water and play. He disappears under the water and resurfaces straight into the air, re-entering the water not with a little wisp of a ripple as per usual, but with a resounding and displacing splash. Water fans out in circular fashion; it sprays up over the deck of the boat, and I am soaked.
I am awake. “You bastard, why the water?” leaves my mind through my mouth; it is an almost automatic response. My face reforms into a scowl of total defiance. I was dreaming; there is no playful Empo, but a guard-goon dumping a glass of water in my face.
“Up, t’yaeli… now!” Guard-goon’s only answer is a short command. He pulls on my arm, roughly. I rise.
Guard-goon begins to pull me towards the door. He speaks. “Time for you to go – say goodbye to your home, t’yaeli!” His words end in a laugh. I steal a glance at the old floor-standing clock; it is 6:45 am. My head is pounding from the early morning flurry of alcohol.
There are a dozen guard-goons in here all told – a dozen just to hold me. I am going to die anyway, so… I break free, swing around, and kick holding guard-goon squarely in the nuts. He is bent over, har! Another guard-goon grabs my arm; I use his momentum to throw him over my shoulder, “take that, you arse hole! Yes!” I score a direct hit with him landing on top of first guard-goon!
A third goon comes at me; I slam my palm into his nose. Two others grab my arms and hold them tightly. First guard-goon is now standing – albeit a bit wobbly – and does not look happy. I see a blur of motion; my face turns violently left. First guard-goon has lashed out in retaliation. I can feel blood running down my face.
First guard-goon grabs my hair tightly, pulling on it to a position above my head; he punches me in the face again. I feel my legs give out, but the two goons holding me keep me upright. First guard-goon lashes out again, catching me full force in the stomach. I vomit on his shoes. He shoves me down to the floor, shoves my face in the vomit and tells me to lick it off his boots.
“Lick it yourself, arse hole!” is my response. He yanks me up again – how predictable – but the other two guard-goons are not holding me. He swings again; I catch his fist, deflecting his momentum just to the right of me, while using leverage to send him over once again. Ooh, he is seriously pissed.
Another guard-goon comes over and swings a club at me, and connects; I black out.
My eyes try to open, but they are swollen; so too my mouth. My whole body hurts. I am in a moving vehicle with three guard-goons around me. They have me chained to a metal post. I try to speak. “Where are you taking me?” There is no response. We ride for what seems like an hour, but I have no sense of time under the best of conditions.
We stop. The back doors of the goon-transport fly open; a guard goon unlocks the chain, then two other guard-goons pull me out. They tie my hands together with special cord.
We are inside a building parking area; despite their coercion, my legs refuse to move. They drag me toward a doorway. They pull me through the doorway into a service lobby, and then on into a lift. We begin to rise. This is a significant force; we are going high. Downtown… we must be downtown.
The lift stops; the door opens, they push me out. I stumble; they drag me back up, pulling me by my arms. “arrrrrrghhhhhhh” my arm sockets cause me to scream in agony.
Another door opens; we move forward to still another door. One of the guard-goons opens it, and the two dragging guard-goons throw me face first onto the floor; I slide and slam my face into a table. I feel something sharp under my left cheek; they knocked out one of my teeth. I pass out.
I feel my body lurch over; I am on my back now, my hands are no longer tied. Someone again throws water in my face – what is it with these idiots and water? “Stand, bitch!” a self-important guard-goon commands. You have a very prestigious visitor, and you had better show proper respect!”
I open my eyes. I am seeing things; Brellian is coming into focus. Two guard-goons pull me to my feet. “Bow to the Chief of Government!” some voice calls out from behind me, no doubt self-important guard-goon.
I spit at Brellian’s feet. A blow to the stomach again; I drop, they pull me back up.
“Well, well t’yaeli. We finally meet, and I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.” The bastard laughs and then continues. “You have caused my administration and me some major inconveniences, but that is of the past now.
I am sure you have thought of the day when you would stare down a defeated Brellian, and I am sorry that I cannot accommodate your dream. It truly is a pity.”
I see two guard-goons leave the room; left are Brellian, the two guard-goons holding me up, and of course, me.
“Rip off her clothing!” Brellian shouts. One guard-goon holds me up, another rips my shirt in two, right off of my body in one pull. He reaches for my shorts, ripping part of the material, but they do not sever. He pulls them down, and then pulls them from under me. I fall and slam my face on the floor. The guard-goons do what they do best, and pull me up again.
Brellian pulls my bra off over my head. The bastard is too weak to rip it in two, har! He does manage a rip with my underwear, as a result, my crotch stings.
“Now t’yaeli, you dyke… women are weak, and you find your attraction in women. That says much about you, I think.” This guy is sicker than I thought.
I manage to speak. “So you love men, Brellian? Well, I learned something today!” He slaps me across my face.
“There is nothing wrong with loving men, Brellian. As you say… I am a dyke, two men who are loving and caring and honourable…” he cuts off my words by slapping me again.
I persist. “It’s the ‘honourable’ part, right… you can’t possibly be such. And ooh… big brave Brellian has to have two guard-goons hold me so he can slap me without fear of retribution.” Whap!
Another tooth falls out. My mouth is badly bleeding. He drops his pants and steps out of them. I knew this was coming. “Ooh, a sadist and a rapist. You are a good one, Brellian! Of course, with that pathetic looking thing between your legs…” I am looking straight at his genitalia.
This time he does not slap. I feel his groin against me. He is pushing and he fails to enter me. He tries again and fails again. On the third try, he succeeds. He moves his mouth onto mine, his tongue finds its way into my swollen mouth; one hand is on one of my breasts.
He pulls his mouth away and I yell out “you have to have guard-goons hold me in order to rape me? Why, you *are* the big, bad, dude! Come on, Brellian… just you and me, tell the guard-goons of yours to get lost. Let’s see how much of a man you really are!”
I can see the wild rage in his eyes, but he does nothing in the moment. I can feel the unease of the two guard-goons holding me; my open defiance makes them nervous, no doubt wondering what will happen to them after I am dead.
“Leave her and leave the room at once!” Brellian orders the guard-goons. As an afterthought, “close all of the visual access to this room as well!” He does not wish them watching what he probably half-senses will be his failed attempt to rape me on his own.
They are gone. He looks at me wickedly. “Where were we, t’yaeli? Oh, yes. You believe you can mount a defence and make me look weak. I so do love sport!” The man is sick to the core.
He steps closer, reaching for my arms. I duck and grab his right arm, pulling him over me. He slams against the wall. He screams and spins up onto his feet in one motion, then lunges at me. I step aside and he hits his head on a chair. Brellian whirls around, his right forearm striking out at my face, and again I use his arm to send him over me, back into the wall. You would think he would tire of hitting that wall. He is dazed, but rises. He refuses to admit I am the stronger.
I have little strength left in me; I am running on the last of my adrenaline. My mind calls to Aailhra; my mind thinks of Jahrae. This, you bastard… is for her.
Brellian comes at me with what I sense is all of his remaining energy and strength, swinging his right elbow from just about straight in front of him, towards the side and at me. This time I do not go for his arm; I spin for better position; I strike out at his head with my left palm and break his nose. On the heels of this, my right leg swings upward like lightning; I nail him squarely in the balls. He drops; he is out. Out.
It is my little short-lived victory; yet a victory nonetheless. Even after my death, Brellian will have to live with the fact I beat the shit out of him when he raped me.
The guard-goons re-enter the room; they watched after all. I suspect their lives will end not long after mine. They stun me with some goon-device; my consciousness is lost.
