41
Gianna aka Lily (19years)
“Hey, Lily, would you like a piece of my chocolate?”
I looked up from my spot under the tree. I sat here every day for the last month—almost two months since losing my baby. The warm sun on my back. The chirping birds in my ears. The soft sand under my bare feet. I still wore my orange tunic because Dr. Rose was convinced, I’d lose my shit, and kill myself if they changed me to gray. Surprisingly, the captain didn’t bother me or demand I wear gray and I wondered about that.
For now, I kept a low profile. No more killing rats. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill a man if he touched me. All the other women kept away from me. Some called me crazy, and some pitied me because they’d heard I’d lost my baby—a baby made with a man I was married to, not one of the baby-making lecherous bastards that prayed on the women in this place.
Yet, for some reason, this woman, who’d called herself Lotus, sliding down next to me, kept visiting me every day. Even though I ignored her, never returned her smile, or answered any of her questions, she persisted in her attempts to make friends. She was Asian and despite the light accent, she spoke English pretty well. So, it wasn’t the language barrier that kept me from making friends, I just wanted to be left alone.
“Try a piece, you’ll like it.” Regardless of my cold shoulder, she held out the chocolate.
Given the basics this place offered to the inmates, I was curious how she always seemed to have that treat available. Still, I didn’t take it. Although, she wore a gray tunic, something about her mannerisms, the way she carried herself made me believe that no man would take advantage of her. I found myself wondering whether they did.
Wordlessly, I got up to go back to my cell and paused when she called me. “I’m here to talk when you’re ready, Lily.”
“Found yourself another friend, doll face?”
I froze, feeling Matilda the Hawk at my rear. Since losing the baby, I hadn’t seen her. Either because she stayed away from crazy me on her own or she was forced to. Now as she pressed her front into my back and sniffed my hair, I had only one thought.
Kill the rat.
I reared my head back and heard bone snapping as I cracked her nose. Her head fell back hitting the wall behind her. She clutched her nose and head, screaming. Stalking toward her, I kicked out her one ankle, then the other. She dropped to her knees. Behind me, I could hear the other women gathering, the voices growing in momentum.
Blood ran from her nose, dripping into her mouth and dribbling off her chin. Lifting my leg, I kneed her in the face, her head snapped back again hitting the wall.
“You sick bitch,” I growled. “You killed my baby.” Fist clenched I swung my arm back.
She threw her hands up to protect her face. My fist connected with the side of her head, boxing her in the ear. She fell to the side. My palms flat against the wall, I kicked her in the stomach, chest, thighs, anywhere my foot could get a hit at her squirming body. I didn’t care who watched, how hard she cried, what my punishment would be. All I cared about was that she felt what I felt. Pain.
“Please,” she screamed, spit flying from her mouth, blood running between her teeth, painting her mouth a perfect red, I felt on the inside. Yet no one came to help. No one came to pull me off her. No one came to protect her.
Breathing hard, I crouched beside her shivering body and pulled out the makeshift knife I’d fashioned out of stone and carried in my tunic pocket, just for her. Streaming with tears, her eyes widened when she eyed the weapon in my hand.
“What happened, hawk, not so tough now, are you?” I hissed, my eyes narrowed slits.
Lifting my hand, I swung the stone blade, cutting across the flesh at her wrist. Her screams music to my ears. Blood spurted quickly, flowing from the open arteries, hitting the sand in large splashes. Shock replaced her fear before she turned her head and puked her guts out. I inhaled hard, liking the darkness invigorating my veins, refreshing my soul. I leaned closer, the stench of blood and vomit filled my nose. Her eyes traced my movements as I reached for her other hand and with a deliberate slowness, I sliced over the pulsing vein, watching it split apart before blood spurted, pooling with the other splatters.
Her cries grew faint, her twitching body running out of steam. She was giving up the fight to stay alive. I didn’t care. Wiping the blade on her tunic, I straightened. When I turned around, Dr. Rose along with several guards, the captain, and inmates watched me. I waited to see what they would do. Not like I cared if they did.
They all turned and walked off. Perhaps the pain of a mother far outweighed that of a bully, perhaps not. It didn’t bother me. I’d gotten my revenge. One of many. Sooner or later, I’d have to swap the orange for the gray tunic and I was ready to take on the next bastard that touched me.
Several guards reappeared to remove Matilda’s body. One glance at her lifeless eyes confirmed my thoughts. I felt nothing and turned away. One woman hadn’t moved. Lotus. Her expression unreadable, the half-eaten chocolate still in her hand, she watched me. I walked to her and without a word, took the chocolate and bit into it. The taste didn’t bring the joy that I’d expected or memories. I no longer craved sweet, I desired the pungent taste of blood.
“Is it good?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, thinking I owed her some gratitude for her attempts to make friends.
“I knew there was a voice in there somewhere, I didn’t know how pretty it would be.” She laughed, the sound making me want to smile, I didn’t. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” When I didn’t say anything, she continued, “whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.” I merely stared at her. “It’s a quote by Friedrick Nietzsche. Do you know what it means, Lily?”
