Genre: Drama/ Historical
Title: The Roadmap on My Body
Author: silverfurr_lynx (me)
Summary: A flash back telling of Kaylin's history. Set in White Wolf's Vampire: The Masquerade genre.
Disclaimers: Using the word table from 50_darkfics, the first word is Ravished. According to Dictionary.com, the word means;
1. To seize and carry away by force.
2. To rape; violate.
3. To overwhelm with emotion; enrapture.
If you are squeamish about this sort of thing, if it is triggering, do NOT click the LJ cut and give this one a miss.
Kassandra and I one night were lounging about at home when she decided she wanted to take me for a bath. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what (Hey, it's a cats and water type thing) but I figured to induldge her anyway. She scurried off, setting up a few scented candles in the large bathroom, making sure we had enough warm and clean towels; hells, she even found us some scented oils to go into the water water once she got it running. Once she'd gotten everything ready, she turned the lights down low, got some music playing from the CD player for us, and she began to assist me out of my clothing. I believe this was the first time she'd actually seen me naked, but it wasn't until she got my pants off that she noted the only real scar on my body was a four inch inscision scar in my lower abdomen. She blinked at it breifly, running her smooth fingertips over it with a curious expression, before she looked up at me slowly with those chocolate brown eyes of hers and her gold skin playing in the light.
"Kay, what's this? Did you have a C-section when you were mortal?" She asked as I looked down my body at the ugly scar, running my hand over it to hide it from her view as I hung my head.
"No." I stated flatly, even as Kassandra stood up in front of me and took my chin in her hand, near forcing me to look at her.
"Kay..?" she near pleaded, taking both my hands and sitting me down on the lid of the toilet seat while she stopped the water from running into the tub. I sighed slightly, my eyes completely unfocused at that point as she began to stroke my hand, arm and shoulder soothingly, waiting for me to begin.
It was either 1941 or 1942 that I had been sent to Bergen-Belsen, along with 242 other Jewish munition workers from a factory that had closed. I remember that they had crammed us into box cars on a train and gave us no food or water for the three day journey. Some people died on route from either the exposure to the cold or the lack of food and water, but when we arrived in Bergen-Belsen, we were all ushered into a large brick building by the Camp wardens. We were separated into males and females at that point, and all the woman were hurried off to another section of the building and made to strip. 'health Inspection' they told us; basically to see who could be put to use as slave labour and who couldn't. Those who couldn't were marked and pulled out of line by rough hands. I remember and elderly woman standing next to me, huddled just as I was in the cold and trying to cover herself from the prying eyes of the doctors. The look in her eyes when the female officers took her by the arms and yanked her off the line was one of absolute terror because she knew where she was going.
Anyway, this is not about her...
Eventually our heads were shaved and we were given our clothing back. Those of us who had gold fillings in our teeth had them removed. Once we were dressed again, they moved us to a small barracks, already crammed to capacity with other women, Hungarian Jews I believe and there we waited. We neither slept nor ate unless someone had a small morsel of food from somewhere. Every morning at 6am they made us line up outside the Barracks and answer to our names, partially so they could see who had died during the night, but also so they could easily take a group of workers out for cheap labour. This was how the Officers made side money you see, and how some of us were able to get food back inside the camp wires. Ironically enough, those left behind who weren't chosen to work were gone when we came back, only to be replaced by more jewish women from various parts of Europe. One night, a group of five men came into our little barracks, flicked the light on and started shouting for us to get up. In our confusion we hadn't moved fast enough for their liking, and they began shooting at us. Now that I think back on it, I curse myself for speaking up to them. I begged with them to stop shooting, told them I would do anything if they would just stop and go away, to leave us alone until morning. I don't know if I was lucky or if I was cursed that night as they could have shot me. Now that I think back on it, I would have prefered it if they had shot me. Hands lashed out and snatched my wrist and pulled me towards them, I faintly remember the smell of cheap wine on their breath as they drew me close and started leering at me. I couldn't understand what they were saying as I didn't know German at the time, but I got the impression that they figured I could provide them with entertainment. Three held the remainder of the cowering women at gun point while two at a time began to grope and fondle me, their sweaty hands gripping hard at my ass, or pinching at my nipples hard enough to make me cry out in pain. Even as I began to stuggle and fight back when they pushed my dress up and pulled my knickers down, they were laughing, and the women could only clutch their hands over their mouthes and turn away in shame at what was going on. It was all the provokation the three needed to start firing again, giddy and drunk with both wine and power. One of the men held me down and pinned my arms above my head while the other gave me a sharp slap for resisting, probably spitting curses and threats at me when he leaned close. Those dry and cracked lips of his met mine in a sloppy, drunken kiss and I could feel his fingers toying with my intimate flesh clumsily before they penetrated. He had stopped only breifly to look down at me in surprise and loudly announce to his buddies something in German, his expression changing to one of enraptured pride as he gazed down at me. I could only assume that he was beaming because he was to be the man who took my virginity from me. I had always imagined my first time was going to be a slow and sensual event, something loving and tender with someone I cared deeply for. Instead, while I was held down, this insane German solider hastily undid the fly of his trousers and forced the head of his cock with one violent thrust into my untouched depths. The pain was blinding as my hymen stretched and finally snapped, nevermind that I wasn't even wet when he forced himself into me. He took his time ravishing my body, holding my jaw with his hand and if I dared to close my eyes or look away, the result was a hard slap to my face. Hard enough to hurt my neck and split my lip in the process. The burning pain that welled up from my abused core travelled down the length of my thighs and up my abdomen, making me grind my teeth as tears welled up and dropped to the dirty wooden floor in the barracks. I thought I might pass out if it wasn't for the hard slap I recieved to bring me back to consciousness. With a grunt he came inside me, licking at the side of my neck and cheek before he pulled himself off me to admire his work, gazing down at my sorely ravished womanhood that dribbled with a mix of his seed and my blood. He called one other to come and admire his work, before he took undid his trousers and took advantage of the cum left behind by his partner to fuck me with. Before the night was over, nearly 75% of the women in that barracks were killed and I lay on the floor in a puddle of their blood, my poor ravished body twitching from the pain. I could barely sit up to attend to those who weren't wounded too seriously, the tears to my swollen bottom leaking a mix of my blood and their semen down the inside of my thigh as I tried to pull up my knickers. The women left alive wouldn't even touch me either, calling me unclean and dirty because of the rape.
That same group of men ravished me randomly during my three year stay in Bergen-Belsen; sometimes he would be the only one to rape me, sometimes he had friends with him. Sometimes it was days between the abuse, sometimes he would return every single night. Sometimes he was drunk, and sometimes he wasn't. The only sure thing I could bet on was that it was always him that Ravished me first, always him that held me afterwards while his friends fucked me mercilessly, Always him that whispered in my ear how beautiful I was and how much he enjoyed taking my innocence from me. It was rather ironic that it was from him that I had gotten Chlamydia and Gonorrhea, something that went undetetched for nearly three years. We were both asymptomatic, meaning neither of us displayed the symptoms of the disease, and even if he'd managed to get a course of anti-biotics, hed only re-infect himself when he ravished me. When we were freed in 1945, my infection had resulted in Pelvic Inflammatory Disease that had been untreated for some time. During an examination from the Allied doctors they were able to determine what had happened and the cause, and at the age of 21, I was taken to The Royal Hospital in Staffordshire County in England to have a complete hysterectomy. The bacteria has completely scarred my fallopian tubes and uterus, nevermind completely destorying my ovaries, to the point where my chances of being able to conceive a child and carry to full term were nearly 0%. The choice to have a hysterectomy was technically made for me, because there was no course of anti-biotics available that would have actually dealt with the massive infection that completely killed my chances of having babies.
I looked up at Kassandra again, tears of blood streaming down my cheeks and spattering against the cool tile floor as the gazed at me in abject horror.
"So because a man ravished me repeatedly, I had to have my uterus, ovaries and my falopian tubes removed. That's what the scar is from..." I explained, my teeth grinding against one another as she folded me into her arms comfortingly. She didn't say anything, and technically, she didn't need to. Nor did I want her to. All she did was rub my back and stroke my hair, enough that I eventually learned the difference between a loving caress and a harsh one. We did bath together that night, though it was a somber and oddly silent bath. She washed my back for me with a loofah, she even washed my hair for me too. All I could do was sit there, curled up in reminder of the pain from that first night, my arms clutched tightly over my chest. In retelling that story, I had been reduced to the same terrified 18 year old girl that had her innocence stolen from her. Kassandra understood that, hence why she cared for me as she did. I'm not sure if it was her intention to make our bath a sexy one, but it turned into a caring one...a strangely loving one as she attended to me and cared for me that night.
© of silverfurr_lynx, 2006