4th Memory

I do not feel the pain of impact. A mental count, I took down four of the enemy when I landed.

Grabbing a nearby rock in one hand and a knife from the enemy below me I continue my attack. I know I only have seconds before they recover from their shock. These few precious seconds are the only chance to launch an offensive attack.

They are regaining their awareness, like rain the first blows fall. I will die so those I love can live. I do not fear pain or death. I kick and lash out with my fist and knife, slashing and hitting anything and everything I come in contact with.

I can hear the swearing as my knife cuts through the enemy’s flesh. Knocked down I continue, now using my teeth and head as a weapon also. I can hear the enemy, the yelp of a dog as my knife slashes it open.

My own blood is mixing with my enemies. The darkness is pulling me in. Damn it I am pinned now helpless; yet I am beyond pain. My mouth and eyes are swollen shut. I almost welcome the darkness pulling at my soul. Like this with my last breath, I can only wish for their safe escape.

That is my last thought before I am drifting away, the pain in my broken body fading. Blissfully I slip into oblivion. I am lost to the darkness.

4th Encounter with the Living

The fear that kept me scared, the fear of this man is dissipating. His denial, his condemnation, it hurts so badly. Even more than the pain is this anger rising, rage pulsating, pushing me past reason. The shadows of the past are encroaching upon the light, darkness, devouring everything within its path.

Why?

In this light I see others, I remember. A boy fills the uniform across his naked lap. I remember a boy fading into shadows. Fearful, crying for someone to help him he was dragged into the priests’ chamber. His cries resounded down the desolate hallway, fading, as his very life faded away.

The lock of hair, now attached to a young girl, her head held at an unnatural angle. She had escaped! I remember her. They drug her back kicking and screaming. Her screams so full of hopelessness, her cries fading, just moments before the deafening silence.

“Why?!” I am screaming, my heart breaking with every new memory awakened.

“We were innocent, we felt everything! We suffered the pain, the humiliation, and the fear. Why did you…? How could you? Who are you to deem us to deserve to suffer so much!” I scream the rage festering.

A uniform skirt off to the side, I remember. A young Sara cornered by this priest his hand grotesquely groping under her skirt. I can still hear her pleas to stop as he disparaged and abused her body. I remember the helplessness of wanting to protect her. But I was too much a coward, a boy, afraid, unable to save her.

We did not deserve the abuse and the shame. It is horrific seeing these children imprisoned. The essence of that traumatic moment, imprinted, left behind. Forever trapping them in one painful moment.

Something within begins to overflow, twisting from within me, consuming me. He had imprisoned those other children here with him. He continues to use them even now. Chaining innocent souls too an eternity of pain and despair.

Something more than anger, laced with sorrow is beginning to overtake me. Hate becoming a fuel, devouring me, pushing me past reason. This insanity is pulsating into a life of its’ own.

I want to hurt him. I want to humiliate him. I want to inflict all our rage and pain back upon him.

There are no answers, there could be no reason, there could be no justification for what we suffered! This man who had inflicted all this pain and misery, didn’t he deserve to suffer to?

No one came to save us. All we knew was shame and the fear that kept us chained. The fear that kept us imprisoned allowing this man to eternally damn us. I could no longer allow the fear of this man and his god to hold me back.

The need to hurt him as he had hurt us is all that remains. I can hear and feel nothing over this insanity pushing me forward. This powerful need for revenge was the only thing left I could hold onto.

Again, I am that boy ready to fight to the death. This time it is not the need to protect that pushes me forward, it is my desire to destroy.

I fought with every fiber of my being, for my last stand.

I swear from the other side of the darkness I can hear someone tell me it is ok now.

It is not ok. I resist the light trying to break from the shadows. Nothing will ever be okay! He took everything from us, from me. The never-ending nightmare, I remember, no matter how much I wish to forget. I remember.

-End part 4

This is part 4 in a 5 part series. Read Part 1 here

My name is Rae Rose and I live in the Pacific Northwest. I have always, always loved stories. I love writing, reading, listening and imaging the words coming to life. My youth was not the happiest and it is not an exaggeration when I say stories saved me more than once.

Every story I tell carries a seed of truth. Mine and of those who were not able to survive. Every story is special and personal to my heart. It is my hope that you enjoy the stories and find comfort, love, and laughter in my words.

*Rae Rose (Paiute, Mayan, Japanese) is a writer based in the Northwest. Follow her @Rae_Rose7