Survivors [Book 1]

3. Kal

I stepped into the bathroom area, which was actually still working. Surprising, I know.

We had only a few women among us, so we didn't get our own bathroom. It was fine though because there was no shower here, just toilets and taps. Both very very dirty and disgusting. But at least we had something and didn't have to do it outside, where our arses would freeze the minute we pull down our trousers.

I found Reny inside, she was cleaning her face, making sure not to touch the bruise I gave her, around her right eye.

I smiled a little at this sight. I was proud of myself, there was no point denying it. I became quite a good fighter thanks to the constant losing. From the first day I joined them, they treated me as one of their own, which meant wrestling. In the beginning everyone beat me up- pretty bad actually- but I kept pushing. I watched their moves and practised. It was bloody tiring and hard but totally worth it. In a few months, I started winning but never stopped learning. I still watch every fight and observe the others' tactics, weaknesses and strengths.

Reny noticed that someone disturbed her and looked up. Our eyes met in the broken mirror, the hate and despite appeared clearly on her face.

We didn't say anything. I just went into one of the toilets, not caring about the other.

I undid my buttons and zipper to push down my jeans. I gasped at the sight of my inner thigh, where light purple fingerprints became visible. I softly touched them and carefully put pressure on my skin to test how much it hurts. It wasn't a sharp pain, but I had to hiss.

As I sat down, I hid my face into my hands and tried to fight the overwhelming feeling. It wasn't really the pain that made me almost cry, but the abjection. I felt ashamed, how could I let that happen? Again! Honestly, I should be used to this by now, this is the only life I knew. The first time was the worst. It was a long time ago, but I still remember what it felt like as it was yesterday. I was doing a favour for a friend, who had a friend who needed me to erase some police reports from the database. This friend of a friend was a married man with children and a bright political future ahead of him. I don't know how it happened- I guess my brain blocked the trauma- but I know exactly what I felt. It was horrible. I was afraid to talk to anybody, I felt weak and pathetic, like no one would believe me. I never told anyone about the incident. At first I didn't want to register that it really happened, thought I just made things up and maybe I really wanted it and sent him signals. Then after a while I moved on and never wanted to remember it. Then the war and the end of the world happened, and I ended up in this gang. These people are not nice, but they protect me and in exchange, I give the men what they want. No one cares anymore about what is happening to me, to all women.

The only way I can survive is to bury my emotions deep and never let them surface. I did this my whole life and at this point I don't even know if I have real feelings.

I took a few deep breaths to get the control back over my body, pulled my trousers back and stepped to the sink.

The room was empty, I didn't even hear when Reny left. I turned the handler on the tap and held my hands under the ice-cold water. I bowed down to wash my face and when I lifted back up to take a look in the mirror, my face was a little red but emotionless. This was much better, I preferred the stone-cold expression over being an open book. Showing what you feel is a weakness, and weakness means they can hurt and destroy you! I suffered enough, I can't let that happen again!

I went outside to the corridor. It was also empty but I heard some voices from the end of it, where the big hall was.

As I got closer, I recognised Treck's deep voice. Turning in the corner I saw that he stood on the first floor of the building and looked down to the people.