An Unexpected Horror

Disclaimer: Depictions of Sexual Assault/Rape

"Are you going to tell me what you did?" I asked her. She just sat there, reading, as if nothing had happened. Last week, without any notice, my mother had launched 3 IB22s, one of the most horrendous bombs in her arsenal. IB22 can devastate entire countries without proper control, its blast radius and strength is determined by how my mother wants, she controls it.

"What?" She turned her page, sitting at the end of the dinner table, relaxed, calm. Disgusting.

"Yesterday, when you practically obliterated Utushnya." Her eyes lifted from her book, her brow cocked.

"Ah, well, that is information I cannot disclose, Nora. The High Commi-"

"Bullshit! The High Commission has no power over you. You control what goes on over here." My outburst shocked her, she looked confused, as was I. I understood I was abrupt and rough, but I had never cut my mother off.

"That is true." Her face fell back into her book, "but I will not be discussing that information as of right now. Until I have determined that it is the responsible thing for me to do, I will not be telling the press, nor you about anything."

"Dinner is ready, ma'am." A waiter, Estaban. He was tall, slender, hair long, eyes blue, skin clear. His smile was stretched from ear to ear, he was the happiest worker my mother had.

"Just flash it out here." She hadn't looked up from her book, she went back into it.

"Ma'am." Esteban fixed his collar and cleared his throat, his smile fell.

"Yes? I said flash it out." She paused, her eyes widened, "I am terribly sorry, please bring it out." Esteban nodded and left. My mother shook her head, her face falling into her hands.

"What'd you do?" I asked, curious.

"N-Nothing." She digressed as plates of food were placed in front of us.

"Something, stop hiding secrets, tell me!" My voice was raised, I was yelling at her again.

"No!" Her voice boomed, my glass shook. "You do not get to hear everything! You do not get to be told everything! You are my daughter, not my Advisor. Do you want to know what happens? Do you want to know the things that need to be done? Study. Stop intruding." Her voice died down as she sat down. A vein was popping out of her forehead.

I stared her down, her eyes were burning into me. Her crow's feet were stretched, her wrinkles were prominent like rivers on a map, her hair was wrapped, gray strands falling and rubbing against cheeks with the deep breath that flared her nostrils. My heart was pounding, I could feel it about to burst. She took in one last long, breath, shut her eyes, and let it out.

"Please understand that I do what I can to protect Pace, and those things may never be agreed with," she sat down.

"Just hear me when I say, I want to tell you everything, but I have sworn myself to secrecy. Now, can we please just eat?" She picked up her fork and her lips curled. She looked straight into my eyes, her deep brown irises breaking down every chain and tie I had around myself.

"No." Was all I could let out as I stormed off, hearing my mother call my name as my feet ran up the stairs, down two halls and into my room.

My curtains were open, the moon beaming streams of light into my room. The moon's light made my room so bright but at the same time it felt so dark, I could see my room clearly, but without the vibrant colors that had been painted on my walls since I was 11. My mother wanted me to live a normal life, she painted my room green with swirls of purple and pink, blue polka dots were splashed around in random locations, some in the corner, others in the center. The colors gave me a sense of life, made me feel warm and safe like I was a child again. I would jump on my bed, play with my dolls, toys, she would come in and play with me, then leave 5 minutes after. She was always working, nothing ever changed.

She wasn't around much, she felt bad, I knew that much. I was 12 when Louis, my mother's advisor, had been told to spend time with me. He would make me laugh, tell me stories, tuck me into bed. He was a father I had never had.

I was lost in deep thought when a knock came from the door.

"Go away." God, I felt like I was a teenager, locking myself in my room.

"It's me." I heard his voice, the weight on my heart had fallen off. I slowly opened the door, letting him in. His chiseled features, his sharp eyes, sheen hair, olive skin. God, he was handsome.

"I came to check on you." His hand rubbed my arm, the warmth, that feeling.

"Did she put you up to this?" My voice was hoarse, stern. What's wrong with me? My skin felt as if it was burning. How? I had my hands clasped, they were cold to the touch.

"No, I came on my own intention." He pushed the door closed, "my own intention." He moved his hand from my arm, his thumb rubbed against my cheek. My throat dried. My throat tightened, loosening, it was burning. My breathing felt rushed.

"It's late, I think I should get to bed." I pulled away. My breath almost hitched as I reached for the doorknob. My hands were shaking, I had it in my hand, it was warm, but my hands were ice. He gripped my wrist so hard I winced.

"No, no, no." He pulled me close and waved a finger in my face. "I will not be going anywhere, nor will you be going to bed." He pushed me against my bed, I didn't want my back to hit that mattress, my body was trembling.

"Get off of me." My voice was high, his eyes were piercing me. "Get off!" I kicked his shin, hitting him with my other hand, my free hand. His muscles were taught, his biceps were bulging against his shirt. My fingers flexed, my magic wasn't working, why?

"Shut the fuck up." He whispered in my ear, my mouth shut. I couldn't control my body anymore. The man who practically raised me, this man who I grew up with pushed me against my mattress and lifted my skirt up.

He bit his lip and stared. he held my hands above my head. I haven't blinked she he touched my arm. My eyes were dry and red. I heard his zipper, I let in a long breath and kicked, screamed, I want him to let me go, I need him to let me go. This was no longer a man, this was a monster. He's about to tear me apart, ruin my being.

I tried my magic again, nothing. I tried again, and again, nothing, nothing. I strained, the muscles in my fingers stretched, almost tearing. I'm the daughter of the most powerful being in this world, what is going on?

"Help!" I'm screaming, my lungs were going to burst, my legs were on firing. My kicks were rapid and uncontrolled. I felt a force against my cheek. My eyes were once staring into his, now I'm looking at the stars. Tears were beginning to well. I tried to hold them back.

I felt friction, a burn, something that ripped my soul from my body. He laid his chest on mine, his grunts, the slapping, the clash of his skin on mine.

"Ah-ah!" I tried to scream but his hand covered mine, I tried to close my legs, but his hips were stopping me, I kicked, but his movements were compact. I couldn't fight. I looked all around the room at my wardrobe: the dark color and the detailed designs and engravings. My eyes darted to my closet door, slightly opened I could see my hung clothes, my dresses designed by the most elegant tailors. My bed frame was tall, shafts with the carvings of our family crest. I was trying to distract myself, but nothing was working, I was pulling and pulling at my hands, but his grip was so tight it was cutting off circulation. His grunts were becoming more strenuous, his fluctuations became ragged. He froze and let out a long and breathy wail.

He laid on top of me, breathing heavy for what felt like a century before moving, his zipper closed. He bent over and placed a kiss on my forehead, before leaving.

I was suffocating, my eyes were burning, I hadn't let in a deep enough breath, my skin was cold, but felt so hot, burning my flesh, boiling my blood. I let out a sob, pulled my legs to my chest. Tears were flowing down my cheeks, rivers, and streams. I raised my hand to the air, pointed it towards a small chest by my window, it opened. My cries made my chest heavy, but no noise came out.