Fifty-one: No one to complain to (WARNING - mature themes)

I whined at the burning pain in my scalp and cried out when my head was slammed into the desk with a hoarse cry.

The Scumbag only laughed and repeated the move, leaving me feeling dizzy and dazed. I could barely see, let alone cry for help.

With all this noise, surely the soldiers standing guard outside would be able to hear something. But then when I thought about it some more, I realised that it was unlikely for them to come and help or save me. If the commanding officer was like this, the soldiers were likely as bad, if not worse.

My entire body felt like it had been smeared with garbage of the slimy kind. Every spot he had hit or touched, ached with the forewarning of impending colourful bruises. He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in my squirming and continuous struggles to escape the pain and torture.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer?" he whispered in my ear, making it tickle.

I shook my head hard, trying to escape from him once more but I had very little energy left. I was exhausted. One day, he'd get his just desserts. If no one else gave them to him, I'd find a way to. I could bide my time.

"Get lost, you maniac," I whispered back.

The dirty scumbag pushed me down over his desk and forced my legs apart with his knees. One hand held the back of my neck down so hard, I thought it might snap.

My heart and guts leapt and I released a short scream of horror. He chuckled and my heart pounded when he touched and then stopped short. Instead, he pinched me, making me squeal.

Why was he doing this to me?

"From now on," he told me, "after today, you will happily do whatever work I tell you to do. You will cheerfully work and starve to death as you wish. This is the one and only time I'm going to give you this kind of special attention. If I catch you acting suspiciously or trying to pass on messages, you will suffer for it. Even when you come to me begging for forgiveness, you'll have to lie in the bed you made. This is your choice. Don't you forget it."

While demeaning, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened to me. My first workplace where I had broken the internet, that place had been filled with similar bullies. They hadn't beaten me as heavily, but their groping and molestation had been just as horrible and panic inducing. Even if I hadn't broken the internet, I would have resigned from that workplace sooner or later. Being insulted in this way wasn't as bad as being properly done in and made pregnant, but it was still a crushing blow to my self-esteem. One of my co-workers had experienced being used in that way. She'd been pretty. I, on the other hand, was just a doll for people to practice certain techniques on.

"Are you done yet?" I managed to squeeze out. There was no way he was going to go through with it, right? The military were really strict about these types of things, right? Even if he dared go the whole way, I'd just spit on his face. I'd report him.

My question earned me another heavy beating. One that left me sweating all over and that got him using me to jerk off.

"You may think you're a tough nut to crack but I will teach you to know your place today," he told me. "I don't believe that I can't make you submit."

It was a tortuous day that left me bruised and battered. I couldn't see straight, let alone stand. How much time had passed, I had no idea. In the end, he gave up. After beating me up a final time to vent his frustration, he waited for me to fix my clothes somewhat before he dragged and threw me back into my room, locking me in.

The first thing I did was have a long shower to try and scrub myself clean. And then, I settled down to wait for the morning while I tried to suppress my hunger pains. Having had experience in this type of abuse didn't make me feel any better, but I at least had an idea of how to come to terms with it. In short, I felt guilty, angry and depressed. The best way for me to deal with this was to purposely erase the details from my memory, but damaging my own memory in this way left me dizzy and feeling worse than I already felt. Last time I'd purposely deleted certain memories, I'd been sick for days. This time might be worse. I wasn't in a good shape to start with.

It seemed that I was forgotten for the next two days. My door remained locked. When they did finally remember me, I was sent to the army doctor for a check up, because I was too weak to move. My entire body was one big colourful bruise. I was given an IV and fed a banana.

Another two days later, I was released from the infirmary of the Compound despite the doctor's misgivings. The bruises of being assaulted were self-evident and the doctor wanted to know who the perpetrator was. When I finally gave into the doctor's pressure and admitted it was the Scumbag, the doctor fell silent for a long moment.

"Pretend I never asked you," the doctor said in a trembling voice after a long moment, his eyes darting left and right. His entire body shivered and it made me wonder what he had seen or what the Scumbag had done to him before. "I'd have to find a way to report it without him finding out and killing us both first."

Why did powerless people like me always have to suffer under the rule of authoritarians who thought of their own pleasure more than their own work?

Since the doctor was too scared to do anything, I filed Scumbag in my mind under a file to be dealt with later should the opportunity arise. A few years later was never too late for revenge. Justice might be delayed, but it would come. I could bide my time.

Like he promised, Scumbag never paid me any attention again after I was allowed to start working. Like he promised, he ensured the soldiers gave me the most minimal amount of food and the heaviest, most tiring jobs that they could come up with. I couldn't be bothered complaining. Who was I going to complain to? There was no one to complain to.