T is also for Trauma

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It was several seasons later that Mary was attacked.

We were well into our second winter, working in the kitchens as we scrubbed pots and pans with scalding water. We'd all been noticing a certain PSF that had spent the last few days watching Mary from afar. She'd laugh it off when we brought it up, talking about how she was just 'too much to resist' and something about a hashtag. But I could tell it scared her.

It scared me too.

That afternoon was just like the thousands that came before it, at least, until the PSF came to stand right behind Mary. He put his nose in her hair as she scrubbed, sighing in her ear. I watched her face tense, her lips pinning together and eyes squeezing shut. She didn't know what to do. None of us did.

Suddenly Mary's eyes popped wide open again. I didn't know why until I saw his hand moving beneath her shirt. Memories began flashing in my mind, when someone had done that exact thing to me. How it had felt . . .

I had to do something.

And I had to do it now.

Shannon and I locked eyes, the message going between us somehow. Gripping the pan I was holding, I wound my arm back and smacked it into her shoulder. I made sure it didn't hit her too hard, just enough so send her crashing to the ground.

"Shut the hell up!" I screamed at her. "I hate you! Shut up! Shut up!"

"Me?" She shrieked, ignoring the PSFs shouting behind her. "You shut up! You're always causing trouble around here!"

"Argh!" And I dove at her.

It didn't take five seconds for rough hands closed around my arms and wrench us apart. I shot a glance at Mary, seeing her look of complete and utter shock. The PSF that had been behind her was now behind me, pinning my wrists between my shoulder blades.

I looked back at Shannon, the little victory reflecting between us.

"You two know the rules," The woman holding Shannon announced. "Ten strikes. Both of you."

The officers threw us both to the ground, pinning us down on our stomachs. The respective officers drew their batons, winding their arms back. I held my breath as I braced for it. The batons cracked against the center of our backs, right over the spine. Pain flared all the way up to my neck, but I gritted my teeth and grimaced through all ten strikes. My spine was sending shoots of pain all throughout my body by the time they'd finished, but it was over.

Pulling us back to our feet, they shoved Shannon back towards her station. I waited for the release on my arms, but it didn't happen. I watched Shannon's eyes slowly trail back to me, an anxious fear going between us. Tugging on my shoulders, I tried to pull away, but their fingers dug into me even deeper.

The woman slowly sauntered in front of me, her gaze turning to a glare. "Of course, we have a special place to keep the mutts, don't we?"

Anger swelled in my chest, but I bit it back before tears could start. I wasn't giving her that satisfaction.

"I told you to stay invisible, Tarron." She said my last name they way everyone said it. Like it was a slur. "But I guess it's more fun like this."

I didn't care how terrified I was, I met her glare with every ounce of energy left in me. If I was gonna die in this camp, I was gonna die fighting.

Suddenly, the back of her hand clapped against my cheek, so hard my body seemed to rattle against the force. My entire head was thrown to the side, an extra burst of pain going through my strained neck. My cheekbone sent a white hot throb across my face. I could already feel it starting to bruise.

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