Ive pov
When was the last time I showed any weakness, human emotions? Sefa can trigger my emotions. I already wasted ten tear drops because of her. That day or that night I had cried so much that I almost thought my tear ducts were dried. All that I knew was that I didn't feel anger anymore. My insides weren't knotting up in anger, instead they were fighting an old feeling that I had spent months repressing. I removed my bandage from my arm and threw it in the bin.
"I am hurting"
It was tormenting. Is it possible to feel worse than this?
"God why can't this ever end?"
I asked for the millionth time.
"Because there is no god to end it"
Tears started to fill my eyes. I felt so empty inside that I couldn't even breathe properly. I'm not finding any solace. I thought I became numb. An assassin without any remorse. The word guilt never crept inside my heart because I never allowed it since then. I now enjoy people's pain. They make me feel better so I'm not the only one who is bleeding and it helps to bury my pain deeper. I raised my knees up meeting my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
The voice that has been tormenting me since months came back as she uttered those words like a bucket of ice water crashing onto me.
'Imagine your sister yelling and hurting while her vagina was being exploited. She would take shaky muffled breaths as he kept on thrusting inside of her. All she could do was close her eyes so as not to see the lust and her reflection in the eyes of the predator.'
The words and memories I thought I pushed inside my mind in a corner, made me feel how much of a worthless and horrible human I was as they played like an old useless recorder in my head.
'It would soon be over. It won't hurt much if I don't move. The floor was stained with blood. She couldn't understand why she was bleeding. Others joined him.'
I breathed in hard, knocking my head with my fist repeatedly.
'End. How was the story Michaelson?'
It was not a story. It was my fucking life. It happened to me. I gripped onto my knees hard. That was why I couldn't bond with a woman. My sexual desires made me remember that her monsters were of the same gender as me. I could remember her. She is the invisible barrier that I can't seem to break. I realized the wound was still fresh. And it doesn't end like that. The aftermath, I'm still enduring it. It still haunts me. Sefa laughed at me. The impact of her laugh was still ringing in my ears. She was laughing at me at how weak I was. Her face morphed into his as he looked at me mockingly and laughed and laughed. I squeezed shut my eyes. I covered my ears with my hands.
I had fought them. I had begged them to not lay a finger on her. But still I could do nothing. I got on my knees, crying. My pleading and helpless self couldn't melt them. Her cries couldn't melt them. I was surprised how my ears were not bleeding at this rate. I thought maybe if they broke my arm, beat me, made me beg for her, they may stop but I was wrong. They were inhumane. I was willing to do anything to save her. There's always someone in this world who is more important than one's own life. She was that someone to me. Then, it occured to me, one who is powerful enough to never bow his head in front of anyone only survives. If only, I had been stronger.
I had watched him strip her clothes. I struggled to get to her. I squeezed my eyes shut. But I couldn't shut my ears. Her screams pierced my soul and tore my existence apart.
I remembered when I would always put her bathrobe inside the bathroom which she often forgets since she would hesitate to walk outside wearing a towel even though I used to bathe her when she was still a little girl. And that night I had watched her naked. I watched as her virginity was taken away from her forcefully. I watched as she was stained with the worst form of abuse. I had watched my precious girl transforming into a woman without her consent.
'I am really enjoying this. Hurting you.'
She said those words earlier which seemed so familiar.
My heart beat faster. I could hear his voice as if he was right beside me, whispering the words in my ear, his mouth so close the heat of his breath scalded my skin.
'I'm really enjoying hurting you.'
I shrugged my shoulder against my neck, bending my neck. I wanted to wipe away the moisture.
He had told this to my little girl over and over again. I cried. I ran towards her. The large red bites on her neck and her breast, the scratches on her stomach, the markings everywhere on her skin. Her white hair stained red. I was scared to touch her, to console her. I was feeling so devastated and anxious if she would retreat away from me if I touched her. Her blood. More blood gushed out from her body all the way to her thighs. Thick globs of blood dripped from both my hands. My lips quivered as I removed my long sweater to cover her with. They even took her clothes along. She was drained of her energy. She preferred to keep her eyes closed. I held her limp body up against my own and got her dressed in the sweater very carefully so my hands didn't touch her where she still bled. I held her tightly in my arms. The wind brushed against my cheeks. Against that gust of wind, my vision went blurry. It was getting even harder to open my eyes with the tears. The night was peaceful in a way my life was not. It was so quiet here as though nothing happened. Only the breeze rustling in with her body lying in my arms. She did not make a single sound.
Anyone would know what happened here. I don't care about anyone but her. She would feel naked in front of them. I prayed nobody would happen to walk here or I desperately wanted someone to be here. I didn't know what I should do or shouldn't do. What would be better to do in this situation? We shall go to the hospital where they would do so many tests on her. They may have to touch her there or put some device in her vagina. They will definitely ask her so many questions. She would have to revive it. But on the positive side, they will stop her bleeding and pain. I felt angry at myself since I didn't know how much pain she was bearing since that pain I would never experience. My arms ached. Blood was leaking from them. I could see it. But I realized I could feel no pain all of a sudden.
I believe my heart has been devoid of love and affection since then. Not a single soul knew about my miserable life, the pathetic life of this lone wolf, the Ive Michaelson who brags around with his immense power and inhumane heart. The aftermath of that horrible incident was me lying on that cold floor. I dragged my butterfly knife to my wrist. I carved vertical lines which meant I'd bled faster and die faster. People who cut horizontally across the wrists in light lines never really wanted to die subconsciously. They fear death. But I knew better. I meant business. I had cut a deeper slash than last time. But I can't die yet. I grabbed my arms attempting to stop the flow. I wrapped my handkerchief around it. But it won't hurt me to try. Maybe I'll succeed if it's my lucky day.
I dragged it to my neck wearing a smile on my face. I stopped feeling pain ever since she was raped. RAPE. That small word of 4 alphabets held so much strength to be able to ruin my world. It was much more powerful and dreadful than anything.That immense pain that my heart and body felt brought myself to be numb now. I carved IVE. There is no going back now. This is me. This is my identity now. I eyed the beautiful carving decorating my skin, caressing it gently. Blood dripped. I wanted to feel the texture which was over-pooling with blood. Maybe I won't ever get my sense of feeling things back. Sometimes I can only feel for mere seconds. It strangely comforted me. It made me feel human. I can't even cause myself pain now. I can't even die. I need to punish them so she would come back home to me.
More memories came rushing down to me. I stared at her frail self. She was innocent. I was innocent. The truth rolled like a deadly liquid, like mercury and like any poison. It was the last thing I ever wanted to touch. How must she be feeling right now? Just because I don't want to admit that something has changed doesn't mean it hasn't happened. I could hear the muffled cries she was trying hard to hide.
"It's hurting… too much"
"I-" I said, too stunned to speak the words aloud.
Words didn't come as easily to me as I'd wished as it came to her. I didn't have the facility with language to comfort her. I couldn't keep her safe with promises. I looked at her. There were still traces that she was my little angel as a pretty and stubborn child. In the length of her eyelashes, in the dimple that showed in her right cheek, in her freckles. She was still her. She wasn't all gone.
"Why am I bleeding?" she asked.
I caressed her hair. I wished to wash them until they were pure white without these stains.
"It would stop"
"What if it doesn't? Aah-"
I knew there was no answer to that. I understood nobody can protect his loved one when he is weak. I could have protected her. My job from now on was to rebuild her life, rebuild the bridge for her. It was ridiculous for me to imagine in this age of technology, there'd be some kind of network who would have let me recognize right away when would my Ivonn walk towards danger. As it turned out, feeling hell wasn't watching her get hurt but to act when it was already too late. I came late. If I didn't allow her to go to the library alone. If I didn't get knocked by that car and came late. She reached for me, grabbed on with a sure, strong hold.
"Can you see how much I'm hurt? It hurts too much"
Her voice was so small. She should have become numb to pain instead of me. How can I stop her bleeding? How can I possibly see the girl I cherished in that state? Her eyelids fluttered. She looked at me for a second and then sank into unconsciousness. Those eyes held so much to tell me that words couldn't convey. I hope she didn't misunderstand the love and pain in my eyes as pity neither she saw the reflection of who she was now. I knew If I left her to get help, I'd never see her alive again. She wasn't blaming me. Not once she ever did. That note wasn't in her voice. She was asking if there were any possibilities that I could stop her pain and bleeding. I carried her in my arms as she whimpered in pain. I sang her a lullaby I learnt to make her feel safe. But she wasn't safe even with me. I was there. A spectator. I am a failure.
And I'm still a fucking hopeless person.
'Keep swimming my little fish…'