Team woman Vs Team man
I wonder when it started, and how. I wonder why me. I've always hated being frail or subdued by inaptitude and hopelessness. It has never been a trait of mine. I solved all the problems I had to face during my young life. I felt everything under my control: every question had an answer and every answer would've been practically applied. Simple as that, I used to be happy - or at least, being honest - in peace. But that day - a day I can't remember - he clawed at me as I was his mere prey, tearing apart the person I used to be. Forever.
*****
«Ya shouldn't smoke, sheila. Have to run an' all, ya know.»
I lifted my head, startled, and I saw him - no hat, white tank top - leaning on the window frame of the common room. I had to admit he quite pissed me off. I mean, sneaking behind me like that and lecturing me with his annoying prig smile...
I gave a last puff of smoke and killed the tiny flame of the cigarette under my shoe, then I dusted some debris from my pants. I liked sitting outside at night, especially in hidden or dark places. It helped me relax.
«You scared me, snipes.» I faked a smile just to be polite, «I didn't know you were my dad.»
He let out a low chuckle - which actually sounded like a growl - and closed the window, gesturing me to wait there.
«Something's wrong?» I asked, «Seems fun inside.»
«I could ask the same to you. Not a party bloke anyway.»
«I'm fine, I was just enjoying some stars. Here's a better place to look at the sky. The city has too many lights, you know.»
«Yeah.»
I felt so embarrassed. I wasn't used to be alone with a man - almost twice my age, too - so I started fidgeting and swinging my leg back and forth. He looked at me smiling peacefully as if I'd been an awkward child. He came closer to me, so close I could smell him - a mixture of coffee, leather and sweat. I liked it. Reassuring, warm, manly.
«Mind if I show ya somethin'?» he asked, «It'll be fun I guess.»
I glanced at my watch: 11:30 pm. Not really late considering the next would've been a ceasefire day, but something in my mind told me not to go. I knew the Sniper quite enough - at the time I had been playing the scout for six months - but... I couldn't figure out what I felt about him yet. Not entirely, I mean. I've always looked at him in awe and admiration; he was a real professional – a dedicated and skilled one – and an interesting man. I loved the way he silently and carefully watched every detail around him.
I blushed and hesitated; he gave me a comprehensive look.
«Sorry, mate... I shouldn't 'ave asked ya. It's dark and it'd be, uhm-»
«Inappropriate.» I suggested.
«Yeah, but- if ya want to come daytime I'll show ya a noice place by the river.»
«A river here? That's new.»
I almost screamed in excitement, but I wanted to look detached - at least for now. I wondered how he knew about my passion for this stuff. He probably thought I'd liked it as he did. Well, he was damn right.
«This place ain't got just sand n' bushes, sheila.»
«That would be great, snipes.» I smiled, hiding some sort of concern about the whole situation.
«Sounds good. Drop by my van tomorrow mornin'. I'll make ya some coffee, then we'll go.»
My stomach turned with anticipation – more likely anxiety - and I didn't even know why. The age gap - I thought - yes, definitely. On balance, however, he was just a colleague: nobody had said friendship was forbidden. In the same team, at least. I sighed.
Everything will be fine, Marcy.
«I love coffee.» I replied softly.
«Aces. I'll wait ya.»
****
The van's door greeted me with a piss off written on a piece of paper and attached with duck tape.
Great - I thought - was this sign here before, or does he'd changed his mind about the trip? I felt somewhat reassured by the second assumption – damn, I really was nervous – but once I had decided to play the game, I had to get through it too.
I knocked a couple of times. My mouth was incredibly dry as I stood there in awe, trembling and listening to my racing heart. It was seven o' clock in the morning – right timing I guessed – but I was worried to find him still asleep. When he opened the van's door, my heart skipped a beat: he was shirtless and his hair was uncombed as if he had just got out of bed. I coughed and tried to look away.
«So ya came, sheila.» he smiled, then stretched out a hand to help me hopping on the cabin.
The rough texture of his fingers felt good on my skin. I imagined him caressing me with them and I felt my face burn. He was the first man ever inviting me to a trip - I wouldn't have said date - and this was rather unsettling. I went for distracting myself and I examined the ambient: quite small but comfortable enough for a person. A short ladder led to a bunk bed, then a stove, some storage boxes and a pocket door probably hiding a lavatory. A pliable table with chairs was mounted next to a window. Nice nest.
«This me place, hope ya loike it. Already made some coffee.» he said, «Take a seat.»
«Thanks. Uhm- Snipes.»
He handed me a cup and smiled. «Call me Mick.»
«Marcy.»
He sat next to me and chuckled. «I kno' yer name, Spy told me. I'm sorry, but had to ask who the cute new sheila was.»
«I didn't come alone.» I chuckled «We have two more gals in the team.»
«I was talkin' 'bout the cute one, in fact.»
Damn - he really was interested in me. That was bewildering. I couldn't swallow the rest of the coffee: I felt a heavy knot of anxiety tight in my throat and chest. I gently placed the cup on the table and cleared my throat. He kept observing me. He knew how anxious I was and he almost seemed...entertained.
«Well, let's move then.»
Mick brushed a loose strand of hair behind my hear. I shivered and nodded, eyes pierced on the ground. Then he came closer, leaning on the crook of my neck. Was he - smelling me?
«We'll have fun, sheila. Don't be scared.» he murmured, then caressed my cheek.
I should've left back then.
***
Both of us were silent during most of the road. He occasionally spoke, telling me about his life in Australia and proudly recounting some of his hunts. I had to confirm he was a badass – a lonely and somewhat freaky one – but a cool dude. His manners were kinda aloof during the ride, and I linked his previous flirty ways to some sort of joke. I liked him, but – you know – I wasn't used to be courted by a grown-up man.
«'ere we are.» he said as he stopped the van.
I gazed out of the window: we were immersed in bushes and shrubs. It was difficult to determine what kind of place it was, but I could see no river. Strange.
I jumped off the van and looked around in confusion. It looked like the right spot to hide a corpse... miss Pauling would've likely known it.
«Ya too stiff, sheila...»
I jumped as I felt his hands on my shoulders and his voice – low and rough – right in my ear. I panicked and squirmed a bit.
«Ya afraid of me, aren't ya?»
«I dunno –uhm...Yeah, probably.» I admitted.
«I understand, Marcy. See – ya look, act and smell loike a prey...» he whispered, «... and I'm a hunter. Ya know what that means, don't ya?»
«I wanna go back to the base.» I whined.
He abruptly tossed me against the van, turning my body as I could face him. I began struggling and screaming, but that place seemed immersed in a void. My breath was sharp and labored and my head spinned.
«Nah, sweet Marcy. Told me ya'd have stayed.» he growled, «Ya should keep promises as I do. I promised we'd had fun.»
Mick grabbed my wrist and dragged me deep into the bushes. After a couple of steps I recognized the shape of a wooden cabin.
«See that, sheila? That's the place where I and the Blu make business.» he explained.
«What the hell are you talkin' about?!» I barked, «You're an utter, goddamn bastard!»
«I'ma bloody bastard indeed, sheila...» he slily muttered, «That cabin will be lonely for a long toime, just for the both of us.»
«I'll tell miss Pauling!» I screamed, squirming and kicking furiously «You'll pay for that!»
«No, ya won't, I assure ya. Rather...» he hissed, «ya'll gonna help me.»
***
I was roughly dragged and tossed on a dusty wooden floor. I moaned in pain when some chippings pierced my palms as I tried to cushion the fall. I was confused, terrified but - above all - betrayed. I had trusted him as a colleague and a friend, I even liked him, and he had just lured me into that bloody trap.
I felt guilty.
«Get up» he ordered, «an' behave. If ya'll be good I won't tie ya.»
«I wanna go back to Teufort.» I whined, «Please.»
Mick gave me a glare and I thought he was going to hurt me really bad. I crawled under a little wooden table to find protection, but he just pulled out a bunch of keys. I tried to sharpen my sight, yet all the keys weren't marked. He closed the door with two of them, giving each lock a couple of turns.
«Soon.»
«I said now.» I growled from my precarious hideout, «I'll ruin you, motherfucker! I won't be your hostage!»
«Ya're not me hostage. We're here just to hang out and have some fun, sheila, just as I promised. And o' course,» he grinned, «ya're here to help me.»
«How?»
«Ya'll find out at the next meeting with the Blu.»
«I'm eager to see you sucking their cocks.» I spat.
Mick grasped my braid and dragged me outta the table, bumping my head in the process. I started squirming and kicking the air, eventually hitting him hard in the stomach. He cursed and spat, going to clutch my shirt, but I was faster: I rolled to the side and I rushed my way to the door. I banged and booted it but that damn gate was sturdier than it seemed.
«Playin' da Heavy, uh?» he mocked, «Cute.»
«Mick, please...»
He laughed at me, amused by my futile attempts. My shoulder was already red and swollen, and the next day it'd surely become purple. I let my back slide along the door.
"Ya need to calm yerself down, sheila."
The butt of his rifle collided with my temple with a thud.
***
«G'day sunshoine.»
I woke up with my wrists and ankles secured by black duck tape. I wriggled and fought to lift my neck but a sharp headache blurred my vision and forced my face against the rough material of the couch again. It smelled like dust: a lump formed in my throat at every breath and I felt like I was going to suffocate. I tried to focus once again and took a glimpse of Sniper's naked torso. He was wearing a Blu uniform.
«What are you doing you sick fuck?!» I chocked.
«Oh, ya kno', sheila...» he chuckled buttoning the blue shirt, «I loike some good ol' role-play off n' on. It makes me harder.»
Sniper put his hat aside on a counter and started approaching towards me with slow, considered steps. I screamed and wriggled but I just fell from the couch and hit my shoulder again, screeching in pain. He squatted over me and caressed my cheek with those calloused hands of his, then he came closer to my ear.
«I wanna pound yer pussy since the first time I saw ya.» he whispered. His voice was hoarse with lust. «I bet ya soakin' wet, aren'tcha?»
«No!» I sobbed, «I'm sorry, I swear I'll help you with whatever you want! I'll beave, I'll be good but, please, don't hurt me! Mick-»
«Sssh, stay. I won't hurt ya, we'll take it nice n' slow.»
Sniper straddled me - as I kept on rocking my legs - and unbuttoned my shirt revealing a simple sports bra. He didn't look disappointed, though. He drew the kukri secured on his belt and tore up the thin elastic fabric. I silently began to cry as his smirk grew into a dark smile.
«Noice tiny apricots ya've got here, sheila.»
«Don't do it, I beg you!» I squealed, «That's pointless, you can avoid this, Mick. Please.»
Sniper ignored me - as I expected - and brushed his lips on my nipple. I still remember that dreadful feeling of revulsion and fear. I thought I had lost control. My skin became too sensitive and tingly; again, I told him and begged to stop, but he just nipped and sucked at my breasts. When he buried his hand between my legs, however, I panicked and head-butted him hard right on the nose. It was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. I was restrained and locked up in a cabin, dammit. I could've behaved and tolerated his urges in silence. Everything comes to an end sooner or later, doesn't it?
«Ya bloody cunt!» he howled, his nose and lips stained in crimson, «Ya loike it rough, don'tcha? Ya wanna be fucked raw! That's what ya deserve.»
Mick lifted me as I was weightless and wildly tossed my body on the wooden table. My face was pressed on the chipped surface; I couldn't move nor protest while he raised my red skirt and tore my underwear. I heard him spitting on his hand and probing at my entrance; I cried like I was being skinned alive but he didn't stop.
«Bloody hell...» he laughed, «It's been too much since I popped a cherry.»
He entered me with a sharp thrust. I can't recall much about that exact moment, I think I lose consciousness for a couple of seconds. That pain was indescribable. Ten times worse than a broken arm or a gunshot. It's a visceral pain which explodes right in your guts, stretches your insides and sucks the air from your lungs.
Mick kept his feral pace for a time that to me seemed infinite. He fucked me against that table as he was a beast and maybe - I think - that's what he is.
«Fuckin' take it, take it, take it!» he grunted through his teeth, «Damn, look a' ya, how much yer pussy loikes a good pound.»
«P- Please! It hurts like hell, stop!»
He continued, lifting my leg to fuck me even deeper. Then - after a couple of harsher thrusts - he pulled out and came on my back. He let me slide to the ground like a lifeless puppet; it was then that he did it.
He hovered over me with a sick grin on the face and his cock pointed at my trembling form.
«'ere comes da Jarate, love...» he huffed, still catching his breath.
«No, no, no!»
He pissed on me like I was a precious prey to mark as his. He looked at me in the eye the whole time and, under his grasp, I felt nothing. I was nothing.
***
«Now yer clean enough.» he murmured as he covered my naked body in a towel and stroked my hair almost caringly, «Let's go back to da base, sheila.»
«It hurts down there. I'm bleeding.»
«Nope, yer not.» he hastily said, «Now wear yer shit and move that ass.»
«You're an idiot to think I won't confess anything.»
Mick snorted and went to the tiny counter near the stove. He grabbed a camera and my heart sunk as I realized the whole plan.
«That's why you wore the blu uniform...» I stuttered.
«If ya speak I'll show everybody that Marcy the Scout is the Blu sniper's whore.» he stated with a sly grin, «O' course ma face isn't showing. That blu spy is seriously a genius.»
He stuffed the camera into his backpack and stroked my cheek. I had the urge to vomit when his lips grazed mine in the hint of a kiss - what was trying to do this man anyway? - and told me how pretty I was.
«I wish you to rot in hell.» I sighed «And I wish the same to me.»
***
He dumped me in the pitch he used to park his van, approximately 200 meters distant from the base. Before I walked away, though, Sniper grabbed my wrist. That vile manipulator served me an apologetic glance like he expected some comprehension or forgiveness.
«Look sheila, I-'t was a mistake.»
«Don't.» I hissed, squirming to free my wrist from his grasp «You filmed me as I was being raped by you. Messing up a battle scheme is a mistake. Forcing yourself on a woman is not; that's being sick.»
«I said I'm sorry.» he snapped, «Yer overreactin'.»
«What- overreacting? I still... oh God.»
I couldn't finish my sentence as I started sobbing and crying. I just wanted to be by myself, scrub my skin raw from his piss and sleep.
Mick ignored my protests and held me tight, trying to – mockingly - soothe a pain he himself had inflicted me. I felt too weak to resist; a vulnerable, dirty, tearful mess. I seized his vest and wept harder, letting all the caged filth out. His lips went on my skin, brushing and pecking at my neck. I tilted my head but he gripped my jaw, exposing my throat.
«Didn't you have enough?!» I yelled, «Just let me go!»
«I'm so sorry sheila, I went - loike - wild, I dunno.» he whined, «Just me bein' a horny bloke, ya know. I'ma man, can't control meself sometimes.»
I closed my eyes and waited for the end of his stupid scene. I acted sympathetically but in my mind, I was skinning him alive. He kissed my cheek then went for my ear. I cringed as he spoke.
«Ya won't regret next time, I promise. I'll be gentle, for real.» Mick murmured, «I'll make ya come on me cock, sheila.»
Christ, I was about to throw up. Now I was breathing in gasps or just holding my breath as if I could've disappeared. My heart beat faster and my lungs felt like fire. I desperately wanted to go - I had to - so I forced myself to kiss him and jump off the van. He did let me go. When I touched the dirt road I started running to Teufort as fast as I could, holding the urge to scream, vomit, faint. Whatever.
The whole base suspected the so-called-affair I and Sniper shared. I had been unfortunate –stupid, actually – enough to enter the common room during lunch, gathering a bunch of eloquent smiles and gazes. I forced a grin and managed to shoot a merry "hello". My feet were trying their best to keep me standing.
«Yo, Scout! Have a seat n' eat!» Demogirl chirped, then burst in one of that rough laughs of hers, «Or did da' handsome bushman kill yer appetite?»
I froze.
Don't cry. Don't fuckin' cry, or you'll ruin everything.
Demo was cute and stuff - we were really good pals – but God, I really hated her that moment. I had the urge to smash her head on the table.
«Careful not to choke on food.» I snorted, «We had some sandwiches back in the van.»
«Did ya have a hotdog?» Soldier asked, «I really miss those, damn. Heavy alw-»
Before I could scream the worse I had in mind, Medic slammed his palm on the table and silenced the whole canteen. I jumped.
«Enough vit zhis vulgarisms!» he shrieked, «I thought zhis base would have become more human in zhe presence of women, but it did not! You all are a shame!»
«I disagree with all this, don't speak for me, butcher.»
«But what did I say? I just wanted some hotdogs!»
«Shut up, you dummkopf!»
In other circumstances, I admit it, they'd make me smile again. At that moment, however, I watched them in disgust; chuckling and arguing with each other, I thought they were useless. Those mercs couldn't help me. I couldn't tell a soul I needed help anyway. Their voices had become unbearable, I couldn't stand being there anymore. Sounds spread creepily muffled and far away from my body. I felt dazed like I was being detached from my own form. My head spun, the chest felt compressed as well as my throat. Somehow, I managed to leave the room and hobble along the corridors to my quarters. Once there, I locked the door and threw myself on the mattress.
Sniper had raped me.
In the darkness of my closed eyelids, I saw him again, felt his filthy hands on my body clasping and scratching and claiming me as the eager predator he was. I cringed and moaned in frustration, clawing at my hair and pulling it with all of my strengths.
Stupid, loose, dumb bitch.
I got up kicking and punching the air, growling and tight-lipped screaming not to be heard. For the first time in my life, I had the need to hurt myself in any way: pulling my hair, biting my arms, scraping my face. Then. I just laid there, face flushed and heavy breathing, a tangle of ripped hair tightly held in my fist. I fingered the swollen skin of my face and cursed, rushing for a mirror. Not too bad - I thought with relief - those red marks would've likely disappeared soon. But the rest - would have the rest disappeared?
Not likely.
My clothes went to the floor. I'd have burned them in the waste incinerator not to leave a reminder of that day. As I looked at my bruised breasts I remembered the way his kukri cut my bra and shivered. I couldn't imagine what I'd have found down there. I turned my back to the mirror and I saw my hips covered in mauvish spots - his dirty claws- and, along the thighs, the coppery stains of my own blood. I dared to brush a finger on my vulva and I found more blood. It looked recent. I sighed and dipped a thumb inside: I winced in pain, feeling the wetness of fresh blood. I started panicking.
«Oh God, that's no good...» I muttered, «I told him, I fuckin' told him!»
It couldn't be normal. Bloody hell, it wasn't. I had to tell Medic, but if I did the whole base would've known my secret and I'd be fired, or worse. Definitely worse. My mind ran to my parents and I felt ruined. I couldn't imagine their reaction. I had no allies, no help, no way to cope, nothing. Nothing except him: Sniper.
I just stared blankly at my reflection.
A gentle knocking at the door made me flinch from a slumber I didn't remember falling in. I was still naked, and a large stain of blood had formed between my legs. It spotted the bed sheets but had already dried. Another damn knock. I feared it was him. I wanted to scream, but I tried to keep it calm. I got up and opened my trunk for some clothes to wear.
«Who's there?» I called, my voice broken.
«Oi, it's me.»
Jesus.
My heartbeat raised and I felt like I was going to burn from the insides. I tripped on my pants and fell.
«Go away!» I whined, «I'm calling the Medic!»
«Ya won't, bitch. Open this bloody shit.»
«Leave me alone!»
A single, heavy thump made the door frame tremble. A little bit of plaster came off piling up in a corner on the floor.
«Ya don't wanna me to turn wild again, don'tcha?»
My heart sunk. I hurried to get dressed.
«No.»
I unlocked the door in agony; my eyes were half-lidded and resigned. I had the empty glare of a corpse. Mick stood there, hat and sunglasses on, and a sly smirk printed on his face. He casually licked his lips as he looked at my tight jersey pants.
«Damn, sheila... ya really a naughty one.»
«Please, I'm still sore-»
«I didn't come to fuck ya, I'm not that rat root.» he grunted, «Even if the idea sounds beaut.»
He leaned towards me and went for a kiss I avoided jerking backwards.
«What for, then?» I hissed.
«Ya did a great job playin' their game during tea.» he said, «Now they think we're rooting loike a lovey-dovey couple. Aces.»
«Yeah, whatever.»
Sniper scanned my room and he suddenly stopped when he noticed the crimson spot on the bedsheets. He pushed me inside and slammed the door shut.
«What the hell is that?» he pierced my eyes with his gaze. He knew something was wrong.
«Wha- oh, that. My period. Didn't expect it to arrive so soon.»
I backed away as he tried to grab my arm.
«Ya'll come with me. The Blu Medic must see ya.»
«No! I told you I'm on my p-»
Sniper slammed me to the wall and with a hand pinned my wrists above my head. I hardly held back a scream. He grazed my ear with his chapped lips – he used to munch on them when nervous, a habit I hated – and exhaled slowly. With the other hand, he held firmly my jaw.
«I ain't dumb, sheila. I may be a bushman, but I ain't an ignorant mongrel.» he growled, «I know me cock was too big for yer tiny hole. That was a good pound, wasn't it? It made ya bleed. We gotta fix that.»
«No, please, don't bring me there!» I wailed and squirmed, «Let me see our Medic.»
«Aw, sheila, no drama. It'll be fine. I promise.»
Ya know I keep promises, don'tcha?
***
"You have to leave us, Mundy."
The Blu Medic gave Mick an annoyed glare and let his arms dangle along the sides. At the umpteenth request of the physician - now visibly bothered - Sniper just ground his teeth and huffed.
"Please.", the doctor insisted.
"Foine, but be quick." he snorted, "I'll be back in five minutes straight."
"Ten."
Instinctively I turned to Mick; he hated bargaining and he would've never accepted one. Rather, for a moment I feared he would've grasped my hair and brought me back to bleed 'til shock. I gazed at him with eyes full of despair. He smiled. At that precise moment, I realized that I had given him right to life and death over me.
"Whateva'.", he slowly said, his sharp glare still locked on me, "No chit-chat, Scout."
I observed him disappearing behind the surgery room white door.
The sobs began first silent and muffled, then stronger and noisier. I didn't even realize I was crying like a desperate, with my head sunk into my shoulders and fingers tangled in my hair.
"There, there Miss. Everything's fine, nobody's going to hurt you."
Blu Medic's soft voice jolted me and I instinctively shrieked. He came closer as he wanted to comfort me, but I dodged his arm as fast as I could.
"Don't fuckin' touch me." I hissed, "You're probably a liar, just like him."
He looked genuinely concerned, but I doubted he was not aware of the situation. Probably everyone inside the Blu headquarters had their hands in that, whatever it was.
"But Miss, what are you talking about?"
I gazed at his greenish eyes; they looked warm, almost kind, I had the courage to admit. His whole figure was somewhat calming - professional look, clean white coat and that odd embarrassed air of his. He was younger than the Red Medic - and probably saner - but they were slightly similar in a way I couldn't explain. Maybe his combing, or the glasses.
"Don't play innocent, I'm not an idiot!" I cried, "And I'm not supposed to be here! There are cameras everywhere, yet you're so calm."
The medic dragged a hand through his dark blonde hair and sighed.
"We're wasting precious time."
A blood drop popped out my calf and trailed the skin 'til the spongy fabric of my sock. I ignored it and swallowed a sob.
"Answer me."
"This is not my job.", he snapped without looking at me, "I provide medical help, nothing more. If you don't need my services, then leave."
The dampness and pain between my legs were impossible to ignore. I began to feel weak and dazed and sick. I probably had also a fever. I surrendered to the idea of letting myself be helped by the young doctor, even though I despised his spinelessness.
"Okay.", I murmured.
"Follow me."
He led me along a corridor, then slid a retractable door and gestured me towards a brightly lit room with a surgical reclining chair. Everything was white, clean and fresh with a flowery scent, so much different than our Medic's lab.
"Now," he started, "I need you to remove your pants and underwear, please."
That was my first gynecological visit, I didn't know what to do. The idea of undressing in front of a man - doctor or not - made me cringe. He was watching me with a raised eyebrow, visibly impatient but not rude. The minutes were numbered and I was burning them in hesitations. I kept just staring at him.
"I know you're embarrassed, but Mundy will be here in a moment. Come on."
The doctor tried to encourage me by softening his tone even more, but my hands remained firmly on my stomach, in defence. Our Medic tended to be mellow and condescending when he had to squeeze us like lemons, so I could not - and didn't want to - trust him.
"It was painful, wasn't it?" he hesitated, "And humiliating. I know what the sniper did to you. I'm sorry."
"You can bet it was." I spat, "I'm not interested in your excuses, but in your help."
Another sigh of defeat.
"I can't do this and you know."
"Then shut up. Please."
The young man lowered his gaze and gestured me a curtain to undress. Then, he helped me positioning on the chair - and that was the second most disturbing thing that day - and spread my legs. He stared at the bruises for a couple of seconds, then shook his head.
Just pretend to be sorry, spineless piece of shit.
I closed my eyes shut as he lowered a lamp on my crotch.
"Now I have to palpate your vagina. Try to stay still and relax. If you feel any discomfort or anything just tell me and I'll quit."
I held a scream when I felt his gloved fingers - freezing with the gel - entering me. I tried to resist but eventually I had to stop him and catch my breath. He gave me a serious look; it wasn't supposed to hurt.
"Your hymen is irregularly lacerated. Lots of abrasions deep on the vaginal cavity. Bleeding caused by a deep tearing in the mucosal tissue." He mumbled, "That dirty bushman…"
I sniffed and let escape a sob of frustration. Why did he care? Why did he have to make everything harder?
"That damn beast-" he spat through gritted teeth, "I just can't pretend nothing happened. But-"
"You can't help me, I know." I whispered, "Just be quick."
He shivered slightly; his was a sincere, pained concern. Everything about him seemed so out of place: behavior, dedication, professionalism but - above all - his humanity. That man was human and he felt sorry for me. For real. People like him, however, are the worst. They don't take sides either on one or on the other; they're only for themselves. For the fear. Like the slothful ones of Dante's antinferno, running toward a white flag. White, of all colors and none, weak. Without principles. Spineless.
"I'll tell Mundy to let you rest for a couple of weeks." he hastened to say, "You have to take this antibiotic for seven days, and don't use tampons. Oh, and – just to be sure – take this pill in the next 24 hours. If you vomit or something let me know as soon as possible. I'll tell Mundy about a contraceptive."
I nodded and gave him a crooked smile. I actually felt pity for him.
"Thank you, doc."
"Please, don't." he murmured, "I don't deserve your gratitude."
I know.
I said nothing and jumped out of the chair in silence, then I quickly put my clothes back on. Sniper was soon to arrive, opening the door of the surgery without knocking. Why would he have to? I was his property now, and everything that made me an individual - my rights, my quiet, my privacy - belonged to him.
Medic hurried to grab my arm. He looked even more concerned.
"If you ever need help - any kind of help - pretend to be sick, I'll be here for you. Take care."
I faked another smile.
We didn't immediately return to our base. Once far enough away from the Blu headquarters, Sniper parked the van. He put the water to boil on the stove and prepared two cups. I followed his movements with my eyes; Mick, on the contrary, avoided my gaze by keeping him low on the coffee pot, playing absently with the lid.
Neither of us would've talked willingly: there was so much to say we couldn't figure out how to. When too many, words tend to disappear. They knot your tongue, hooking in your throat like tears and rage.
"I don't like coffee without sugar." I said, voice hoarse from silence, "You have some?"
The sniper turned slowly to me and I noticed he was crying. He leaned closer to me and I lowered my gaze, fearing another of his wild reactions. Instead, Mick reached over my cheek and caressed it with a sweetness I didn't think could belong to him.
"Look at ya…" he exhaled, "I've hurt ye the worst possible way."
I began crying too, in silence, no sobs. The wet of my tears met the rough surface of his skin and he drew back as if burned. For a moment I felt satisfied with his guilt, but it was a brief pleasure. The awareness of being a slave - of his tears, his hands, his blackmail - was getting stronger and stronger inside of me. I was subjugated, the plot of a canvas woven by the most disgusting manipulator.
I snapped.
"What do you want from me, Mundy?! End this agony, you've already ruined my life quite enough."
His slap hit my face so fast, I didn't see it. I set my hand on my sore cheek and looked at him with disdain.
Quick at dropping the charade, you sick beast.
"Can't fuck me, you beat me."
"Don't talk to me like that." he growled, "Never do it again."
I swallowed hard but didn't reply, listening to the dull rhythm of my throbbing cheek. It had become warm, and running my fingers over it I could feel the contours of Sniper's phalanges.
I felt so stupid. I would've never ever allowed someone like him to abuse a person close to me. If that smack had been given to Demo, or Engie, or anyone else, I would have returned it back a hundred times harder. Yet, I was the victim; I couldn't move, replicate, scream. I was only able to cry.
"What's my purpose in all this, Mick?" I whined.
"I'm a very lonely man."
"Quit the shit, Mundy." I hissed, "Tell me what I have to do."
"Anything I'll say." He shrugged and sipped some coffee from his favorite mug, "See, I'm really into ya, love. I've been observing ye for a long toime and I've decided to give it a try."
"What about the Blu Spy?"
"Just provided me with a couple o' cute pics of yers." He grinned, "Ya know, the cloaking stuff can bring ya everywhere."
I gritted my teeth with rage.
"Please, I'm not stupid. Which business are you two into?"
He smiled.
"For now, just enjoy the ride."
***
Another day in the field. Another victory for the Red team. I should've been happy; payday and earned rest. But I know no rest since that man - that brute - has deceived and soiled me, reducing my identity to an empty shell. I couldn't concentrate during the fight. I did nothing but being crushed like a worthless bug. I became slow, distracted, always sleepy. I haven't slept properly since that time in the cabin. Then, just before the end of the battle, Sniper struck again.
The last image left of my death - before awakening anesthetized and sickened by the respawn once again- is him, Mick. Mick pissing on my body still riddled with the Blu Heavy's bullets. Mick giving me one of his sick and distorted sneers as he empties his bladder and tilts his head back in bliss.
"Yer mine, sheila." He spoke before I fainted.
Bloody bastard.
I spent the last couple of minutes crying and shaking, hidden in a cleft like a cornered prey. Once at the base, nobody spoke to me but I know how things work here. We're mercenaries, not best friends forever. We share life, death, blood, laughter but nobody gives a shit about each other. If you don't work - or you do it wrong - the already precarious balance of the team breaks. Heavy is so naive thinking about us as a family. The family, the real one, is somewhere very far from us, unaware. We are alone. I am alone.
I realized I've lied to myself: I'm the kind of person who mops around, that's it, end of the story. Mick had guessed, like the good hunter he is. I'm the one who struggles when with a well covered back. After all, I'm just a girl with a bad aim and no courage, good solely to run and dash here and there when the shit turns serious. They're professional, for real: even Engie - who spends the ¾ of the battle sunbathing on a deckchair - knows her business. That girl's a real genius with mech and stuff. I'm good just at being average. My second name's mediocrity.
"How's goin'?"
Sniper gently holds my hips with his large - and rough and scary - hands and kisses my cheek. The others look casually at us and I can't dodge his affection, forced into a sick game I can no longer pull myself out.
"Fuck you, asshole." I hiss. My eyes still shiny with tears, "What kind of question is this?!"
"Come on sheila, 't was just a joke. Maybe I went too far."
"Leave me alone."
His fingers search for my breasts and gently rub it through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. I don't struggle: it'd be useless. He pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, murmuring in my ear how beautiful I am and how much he misses being inside me. I quiver and feel my head spinning. We're alone now. The others have all gone to the common room, relaxing, and I feel more vulnerable than ever. Sniper slowly drags me to the wall, trailing my neck with kisses. His free hand sneaks under my skirt and looks for the panties hem. He moves them aside and - finally - take what he craves. Fighting would be a lost cause; he always wins.
His fingertips explore my vulva, caressing my clit in small circles. It's the first time he touches me this way and I'm bewildered. I feel hot and swollen between my legs - it's wrong. Dirty. Rotten. I feel I'm going to cry but - at the same time - I don't want him to stop.
"Yer pussy's all wet, 'roo."
His voice enters my ear and, like a thunderbolt, it casts in the middle of my thighs and branches off in my belly. I don't want to feel like this. I wish it had happened with someone else - a boy my age, maybe - who really loved me. Mick is a manipulator, a bastard and a cynical sadist, son of The Bush and Natural Selection. Mick is a beast.
"Let's head to the van." He murmurs, "I'll make ya feel good, I'll teach ya couple o' things ya never experienced before."
My legs are shaking and I can't stand up. I let out a sob and clung to the brick wall, eventually surrendering to his arms. I let him carry my dull body on his shoulders.
Silently, to hell I go.
****
In the camper stagnates the usual heavy, dusty air, thick with the aroma of black coffee, and darkness holds the ambient in a suffocating embrace. Sniper dumps me on the table like a sack of potatoes. I keep my eyes wide open to capture even the slightest bit of light, careful, alert.
"This lantern's just fine," he mumbles to himself, "maybe it'll help ya relax a little."
"It won't if you're with me." I reply caustically.
I hear him grinning. In a moment the cabin fills with a soft yellowish glow, which lights up half of Mick's face giving him a ghostly look. In other circumstances, he could've been right: the van looks like an inviting and welcoming hiding place. His glare, however - along with his posture and his dangerous grin - makes it look like a torture chamber.
"Open yer legs, princess."
I shake my head and hold my skirt, firmly pulling it up to my knees. Mick draws the kukri out of his belt and gets closer, slow and pondered like a predator. He licks his lips in trepidation.
"Open yer bloody legs.", he repeats. This time it sounds like a warning.
I obey and I sense him grinning in appreciation. He carefully rolls the skirt along my thighs, exposing my underwear. That's it - he runs the tip of the blade over my still covered sex, tracing a path from the bottom up and backwards. I stay still and terrified, choking sobs and hardly breathing.
"The fabric here's still wet..." he whispers, "I should take a look. Whaddaya say, sheila? "
"I d-don't want-"
"-ta stay 'ere? Ye' right. A beut like ya deserves a comfortable bed."
He lifts me on his shoulders and I start crying louder as my back touches the rough surface of the mattress. There are no sheets, and the same dusty smell of that sofa brings me back to the pain of my first encounter with him. I start to breathe laboriously and I just want to close my eyes and sleep, let Mick do whatever he wants as long as he leaves me alone once he's done.
"C'mon, no tears..." he soothes, "What did I tell ya before, sheila? Ya'll loike it, we'll take it nice n' slow, hm?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. You're the one in charge, aren't you?"
"See, Marcy? That's da spirit." he chuckles, "Ya deserve a treat, just loike a little obedient bitch."
Mick takes off his hat and puts it on a small shelf where - among other things - lies a jar full of something I assume to be his urine. This man is obsessed with piss, and he's not even ashamed about it; rather, he appears to be proud. He uses it in combat (which could make people laugh, but no fun, guaranteed), during sex - if we want to call it so - and to prove his own supremacy, just like male dogs do.
Thinking about stuff isolates me from the squalor of reality. I stare at a random spot in the van and try to capture its details. Slowly, Mick seems to disappear and with him, his dirty touch on my skin fades. I cast a look between my legs: he had taken off my underwear and he's kissing my inner thigh like a generous and tender lover would do. I loathe him even more.
Damn, I focused on him again.
For the first time ever, a man is kissing me down there. It's a wet, soft, foreign feeling - repulsive, given the circumstances - which confuses me yet excites something forbidden deep inside my mind. I find myself turned on by this lewd setting. I feel as if I deserve it, as if this is the only pleasure - pleasure? - I merit.
"Mick, please - stop. I don't feel very well."
"Don'tcha loike it?" he asks in a muffled growl, "Tell me."
I have to ponder the answer. If I say yes, he'll know I'm lying. If I say no... Good Lord, I don't even want to know.
"Uhm... I'm just still sore, I'm sorry."
Half true.
"This was supposed t'help ya" he murmurs, then sharps his gaze and I panic, "But maybe I'm not good enough fo' yer taste, hm?"
"Oh, no! Really, I just feel uncomfortable there."
"Well, ya had to learn somethin' new anyway." he shrugs and unfastens his trousers, "Suck."
I've no idea of what to do. I try not to stare at his cock, it'd be too triggering. I taste the profile of his member with my fingers and I take it in my hand without tightening it too much. It's hot and rigid, it's so strange to touch. My head is spinning: it's like I'm not really present, as if I'm watching a movie of my life from above.
"Put mo' effort into it, 'roo." he groans, "Grab it tighter."
As soon as I near my lips, Mick grabs my hair and pushes me towards his crotch. I stifle and try to free myself by pushing his torso, but he forces me to bob my head according to his rhythm.
I'm about to give up, overwhelmed by his strength and the gag reflex, when someone knocks violently at the campervan door. Mick lifts me by the hair and rushes a hand on my mouth to prevent me from coughing.
"Bloody hell!" he hisses, then orders me to be quiet and silently frees me from his grip. I take a deep breath and drop my head on the mattress.
"Who the fuck is there?!"
"Your favorite guts delivery from France."
"Shit..." Mick mutters, "Stay here, sheila. Be good."
The Blu Spy closes the door behind him and lights a cigarette, then offers another one to Mick. I try to hide under the covers but that damn French doesn't miss a trick. He nods at me, then chuckles softly.
"I hope I haven't interrupted anything with Miss Scout, Mundy."
"Whaddaya want?"
The Spy sits at the table and puffs a cloud of smoke. He looks worried. He shakes his foot up and down and bites his lips.
"We are in deep shit." he states, "Pauling wants to get out of the business."
"Christ, did she tell ya?" "
"Yeah. Medic helped me knocking her, just a temporary solution. However, now we lack a hookup, we have to put the Scout in or the game is over."
My heart jumps up in my throat. I roughly put the skirt on and rush out of the bed still without my panties. I don't even care right now.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" I yell, "What the hell is going on?!"
"Shut up, ya little slut." Sniper growls, "Not ya too."
"Non." The Frenchman snaps, "She has to know. We need her now, don't you see?"
"She's not ready yet." Mick grumbles, "Beat the shit outta Pauling and see what happens."
Sniper acts oddly, almost as if he's uncomfortable. He continues scratching his neck and keeps his eyes down. He reminds me of the first time he spoke to me, many months ago. He seemed honest, back then. Why pretend now? Mick knows I'd never betray him: he's owning me with that damn tape and his sick mind games. Yet, now he appears hesitant about something I don't even realise.
"Don't act like a teenager in love, Mundy... Whether you like it or not, she's next to get us the sluts, otherwise..." the Spy declares seriously, "She'll be the first mercenary to end in The Chamber."
"Don't even think about it, ya bloody mongrel."
"I assure you, ma chérie..." the Blu whispers, then brushes a tear from my cheek with his gloved thumb, "...that from The Chamber you don't come out with a mere bruise between your legs. Au revoir."
The spy leaves us. I collapse, unstable on my legs, and Sniper promptly grabs me. I push him away, offended, but I have no strengths. I burst into tears and drop my head on his bare chest, defeated again.
"It's time t' know how things work 'ere, Marcy."