Justice

Something I wrote after dealing with SA when I was a teenager, and the fantasies I had.

He felt the tips of his nails push through the thin flesh on the back of the other's head, and relished in a sick wave of smooth satisfaction in the way the woman's scream curdled as hands scratched at the thick bone of her skull.

“How does it feel, you motherfucker?” He whispered, pulling his hands back and feeling the flesh of his abuser’s cranium squelching sweetly under his fingers. His ears rung as the sound of pain echoed through the room. He felt the blood swell and gush around his hands, pouring out of her head as he listened to the blood pound in his own.

Revenge is never something he would have asked for, despite how much he had wanted it. Things like that were beyond his own personal criteria for himself; violence was always the farthest thing from his mind. Until it wasn’t.

Until someone made it the first thing he thought of whenever he woke up and the last thing he thought of when he fell asleep.

Until he couldn’t go 10 minutes without feeling the queasy, sticky feeling of someone else’s hands, someone’s hateful, disgusting hands all over him, hands that he tried to fight off time and time again.

There’s a line that when crossed, turns anyone, no matter how peaceful, into someone terrible. Someone just waiting, begging for a chance to take back what was theirs. He had become that someone, and when he came into this room to see it happening again, to someone else: It was then that the chance came singing to him, soft and sweet, and gentle like he'd forgotten anyone could be.

'You can do something. You'd be in the right.' It hummed in his mind, as his heart stopped at the sight of those hands.

“This isn't fair. It never has been, and it won’t ever be, unless…”
Unless. Unless? The last question he could think before the whisper turned loud and sharp and agonizingly irresistible.
“Unless it is made so.”

That was it. It was over. It was fair only when the monster stopped screaming. Only when the last sound was the whimpered cries, sobs coming from his own mouth, and the only hands on him were another's pulling him away. That’s when it was fair. Almost fair.

Killing her was not the answer. Defending someone else was not enough. True justice would never, ever be enough. It could never feel fair again, could it? There was peace before everything happened. That peace could never be obtained again, not for him, and not for anyone else touched by that monster.