Second Skin: Fractures

by M Damon Baker

  While taking a moment to enjoy my drink, I was relieved to notice that the slimeball had apparently left. His absence was a relief—the continued presence of that idiot had been making me more and more uncomfortable.

  My bill came to a few silver bits, and I handed the waiter a Mark and told him to keep the change before leaving. As I stepped outside, my senses were greeted by the fresh, clean feel of the cooler night air. I was still quite happy with my meal and enjoyed the comfort of the evening air as I started walking slowly back to the inn.

  But when I crossed the alley between two buildings, a strong hand flashed out and grabbed me by the arm. Suddenly, I was dragged roughly into the alley and then slammed forcefully against a wall. As my arm was crushed in the relentless grip of my unseen attacker, a face suddenly appeared in front of me, revealing the greasy bigot sneering at me yet again.

  “You’ll give me what you’ve been giving that filthy orc, if you know what’s good for you,” his words spewed forth, full of hatred and anger.

  What?! What did I give to a filthy orc? My mind reeled.

  “If you’ll spread your whore legs for that damn half-breed, you’re sure as hell going to be spreading them for me,” he continued, making his venomous threat all too clear.

  I was utterly stunned and taken aback by what was happening. He thought I was sleeping with Georl and was going to try and rape me for it!

  I tried to pull my arm free of his grasp, but he was far stronger than I was. He laughed derisively at my efforts before casually slapping me across the face with his free hand. Although it was obvious that he hadn’t put his full strength into the blow, the force of the impact still rocked my head back sharply, and my skull smacked sharply against the wall, leaving me dazed and disoriented.

  With my arm still in his vise-like grip, he dragged me even further down the alley, ripping away the shoulder of my shirt in the process. Helpless and being pulled further into the dark, my mind spun in frantic circles, searching for any way out. I probably should have screamed, but I was so overwhelmed and still in a daze from his brutal blow that I couldn’t make a sound. Reaching a destination he apparently found adequate for our ‘tryst,’ he shoved me roughly against a wall again.

  As he continued to hold me by the arm with one powerful hand, he reached up with the other and grasped me by the throat. He began to squeeze slightly, and as I felt the pressure mounting, it cut off my air, making it difficult for me to breathe. My obvious discomfort only urged him on.

  “Yes,” he hissed at me softly. “You see who’s in charge here now, don’t you?”

  He kept me pinned to the wall while he stepped back a fraction and began leering over me. His lustful gaze slowly wandered across my body while he licked his lips sickeningly. His hand was still wrapped tightly around my neck, and to my horror and disgust, I felt his thumb began slowly stroking the skin beneath my jawline as he made his appraisal of me. When he was satisfied with what he had seen, he spoke again.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” he instructed in an almost casual and offhand manner. “You’re going to take off everything, and then you’re going to do whatever I tell you to do. If you’re a good girl, and you make me very happy, I might let you live. But if you resist, well, I can still get what I want from you even after I beat you senseless.”

  He stared straight into my eyes, emphasizing the seriousness of his words. As he glared at me, the smug look on his face told me his thoughts—he was in total control, and my compliance was neither required nor in doubt.

  With his one hand was still wrapped around my throat, he shoved me forcefully against the wall, and I felt his other hand begin groping for my belt. I was completely helpless against his overwhelming strength, and my teeth clattered with the force of the impact against the wall. But my arm also swung behind my back at the same time, and when my hand brushed against something hard, I realized what it was. My dagger! It was so new to me that in my confused state I had forgotten it was even there. Reflexively, and in total desperation, I gripped the blade tightly and swung at him with every fiber of my being.

  My assailant had assumed that I was unarmed since my daggers were hidden from view by Georl’s ingenious belt. Thinking that he was in complete control and believing that his superior strength provided him with total immunity against a weaker foe, my desperate gamble took him completely by surprise.

  I had struck out blindly, just hoping to make contact—to inflict even the slightest wound, anything at all, as long as it would allow me an opportunity to escape. But my desperate strike had achieved far more than just that.

  The dagger entered his body, and his flesh parted easily under the blade’s keen edge. The desperate thrust ended abruptly as the blade struck something solid and the jolt of the blade striking bone echoed up my arm. Warm blood gushed against me, and I turned away to try and avoid the spray. The hand that had been holding me pinned to the wall suddenly went limp, and I was free from its grasp. But once I was no longer held against the wall, I stumbled and fell to the ground in a heap.

  A loud keening wail echoed through the alleyway, ringing in my ears. I was still a bit dazed, and at first, I thought the cry of pain might have come from me. But when I located the source of the noise, the full extent of the damage I had done to my assailant became apparent.

  The would-be rapist lay in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood. The powerful hands that had pinned me to the wall just a moment ago were now clutched around his own neck in an impotent attempt to staunch the steady crimson flow. His eyes met mine, and even as the light began to fade from them, he still managed to cast a glare of pure hatred towards me.

  With my wits slowly returning, I stood up and glared right back at him. I was aware of the potential for him to lash out at me just like any other dying animal would, so I approached just close enough to spit directly between his eyes as he lay on the ground. Recognition of my act of defiance flashed across his face just before the last bit of life drained from his body. The fact that his final memory was of me spitting in his face provided me with some small sense of satisfaction.

  As he bled out on the ground, sounds rushed towards me from up the alley, and I instantly panicked. Had his scream of pain brought allies? Fellow deviants, who would now seek their vengeance on me? I tensed up as the shouting quickly drew closer. Gripping a dagger in each hand, I prepared for a fight to the death. My sense of violation and disgust at what this piece of shit had intended was like a raw wound. I would never let anyone do that to me—ever. I would die before enduring such vile indignity. I prepared myself to give my life rather than suffer that fate but was relieved when the figures that came into view were dressed in the garb of the town watch.

  13

  The watchmen arrived and quickly took in the scene, and I was concerned that they may have thought I was the guilty party. Who was to say I hadn’t lured him here and killed him in some sort of robbery attempt? A look of surprised recognition flashed over the face of one of the watchmen as he got a closer look at the corpse, and I suddenly grew even more nervous. If they were friends of his, this would certainly not go well for me.

  However, as the watchman turned to face me, he did not look angry; rather, he had a look of concern, perhaps even pity on his face. With a quick glance at my torn shirt, he nodded to himself as if confirming the assessment he had already made before addressing me.

  “Miss, are you okay?” He asked. While he maintained a respectful distance from me, he also extended his arms in a calming gesture.

  At first, I didn’t respond—some combination of shock, still being mildly dazed from the blow to my head, and generally being unaccustomed to being address as ‘Miss,’ rendered me mute.

  “Miss?” He repeated, finally breaking me from my bewilderment.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. No, I think—I think I’m okay,” I stuttered hesitantly.

  “Miss, you should come with me back to the guard station. This isn’t a good place for you to be right now.�
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  Mindlessly, and still struggling with the physical and emotional effects of the disturbing events, I let him lead me away from the scene.

  By the time we reached the guard station, the shock had started to wear off, and my mind fell into a blur of discordant thoughts. I struggled with having been so close to being raped, and there was a sense of shame and helplessness that accompanied the experience that was close to overwhelming. Should I have been more aware? Not dismissed him as a threat so casually? Been able to get away somehow? Part of me knew that blaming myself was completely misdirected. But I also knew that it would take a long time before I would find my way past those uncomfortable feelings.

  I discovered that I was also feeling something else… something completely different. Rage. Utter. Complete. Absolute. Rage. How dare he try and do that to me? That a piece of shit like him could even attempt such a thing, and so nearly succeed, filled me with intense anger. Part of me was glad I had killed him. If I could, I would do it again ten times over—him and every other murderous, abusive, raping bastard everywhere. I was so consumed by the thought that it took a moment for me to realize that the guard had been trying to speak to me again.

  “Miss. Is there anyone I can get for you? Family? A friend perhaps?”

  I shook my head. I had nobody. Perhaps I might call Marli or Georl friends, but I didn’t want to get them involved.

  “Do you have a place to stay?

  “The inn,” I replied flatly.

  “I see,” he responded.

  “I hate to ask you this, but do you, or rather, did you know that man in the alley?”

  Shit. Was he someone important?

  “No. I had seen him around town, but I have no idea who he is.”

  “Oh. So, then you don’t know.”

  Fuck.

  “His name was Nedd,” the guard continued. “He was a member of the Bloody Hearts. A prominent member, I might add.”

  I didn’t know what that meant, and I told him so.

  “Ah, well, that’s surprising,” he commented. “The Bloody Hearts are a gang of criminals. They have their fingers in just about every illegal operation in Lorida. They aren’t much outside the Kingdom, but around here, they’re pretty powerful.”

  “You’re trying to tell me that they’re going to come after me, aren’t you?” I said, with sudden clarity.

  “Yes, they most certainly will.”

  “How long do you think I have before they find out?” I asked. I hoped I had at least a few days—I needed some time to at least get my head back together and come up with a plan.

  “They already know,” he said, and in his voice was a mixture of both sorrow and pity.

  “How?” I implored. “It only just happened!”

  “A man like Nedd doesn’t just hang around a small town like this. He was here doing some sort of business with Wil, the owner of one of the general goods shops. We have long suspected Wil of working with the Bloody Hearts but have never been able to pin anything on him.”

  “Wil was there when we brought you out of the alley. Then he saw us remove Nedd’s corpse as well. As soon as he saw the body, he lit off out of town on his horse. Undoubtedly to tell the rest of the Bloody Hearts.”

  “But I was only defending myself!” I cried.

  “It’s clear to me what happened in that alley,” the guardsman said, looking pointedly at my torn shirt. “Nedd had a reputation for taking great liberties with women. After he fu… um, finished with them, they were usually found dead in some lonely place. The few that survived his attentions didn’t dare speak of it for fear of reprisal from the Bloody Hearts.”

  “The Bloody Hearts won’t care that you were the victim—Nedd was one of them. They covered for his depravity while he was alive, and they will seek vengeance for his death. I would expect that the first of them will arrive here by late tomorrow evening or sometime the day after, at the very latest.”

  We sat quietly for a moment. The guard remained silent, eyes pointedly looking everywhere but at me. Having delivered his dire warning, he now gave me time to absorb its implications.

  The largest criminal gang in the Kingdom wanted me dead, and I was certain that the Bloody Hearts would be neither quick nor merciful about things if they caught me. If the rest were anything like Nedd, and there was no reason to think they were not, my demise would be a long, drawn-out, and extremely unpleasant affair. To stay here in Lorida would be near suicide, but I was still just a noob. The Kingdom was a ‘starter zone,’ in game parlance. If I left its borders, I would be severely overmatched by every beast, monster, and whatever creature of any description that I encountered. Also, pretty much a guarantee of certain death. I might be Deathless, but I sure as hell wasn’t painless. The beating and abuse I had taken earlier only reinforced that notion. So, my choice seemed limited to deciding between two different deaths, and how much suffering each of them might entail. I really wasn’t up to making that kind of a decision at the moment, but fortunately, the guard picked that time to speak up.

  “Miss, maybe I should escort you back to the inn. Some rest might be good for you,” he said.

  He certainly had a point—I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Sleep would not come easily tonight, but at least I could try and get some rest in my room and take some time to clear my head. If the guard was right about how soon the Bloody Hearts would be on my trail, this might be my last opportunity for any secure rest for quite some time. I briefly considered getting out of town immediately, but it was already dark, and I was in no condition to travel.

  So, I nodded my assent, and the guard escorted me to the inn before leading me inside. I was suddenly apprehensive, imagining the usual crowd that would be there. The whole town probably already knew what had happened, and the patrons were likely spreading gossip and conjecturing over the events. Right now, I just wanted to get to my room in peace. After what I’d just been through, I didn’t need a room full of busy-bodies gawking at me, but the path through the common room of the inn was the only way back to my room. I let out a deep sigh as I walked through the doors and was surprised to find the inn completely empty. Well, not completely empty. A single table was occupied.

  Marli, Georl, and Ella sat there together, apparently waiting for me. As I entered, Ella jumped up, took my hand, and escorted me wordlessly towards the stairs. My other two friends remained seated, clearly wanting to join Ella in comforting me, but restrained by something. Looking at them, Marli seemed immobile, and her face was frozen in a shocked expression. In contrast, Georl wore a mask of barely controlled rage, with his eyes narrowed and his long canines bared openly. Those canines were not revealed in a smile as before, but in a menacing visage that radiated with intense anger.

  But before I knew it, Ella had shuffled me quickly up the stairs and into my room. All the while quietly whispering soothing words and doing her best to comfort me.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” She said once she had locked the door behind us.

  It seemed Ella had already prepared for this, as a couple of wash basins and fresh towels had been placed inside the room. As she gently drew me over to the basins, I stopped dead in my tracks when I caught my reflection in the mirror.

  My face was nearly covered in dried splatters of blood, only broken where the obvious streaks of tears had partially washed it away from my cheeks, and the dark locks of my hair, usually thick and lustrous, were clumped together in a wet, dirty mass. The dark stains of blood were streaked across my entire body, smeared and spattered across my clothing, and the torn sleeve of my tunic dangled in tatters from my arm.

  I stood silently, staring in unbelief at the grisly mess that was before me, and I suddenly understood the expressions that I had seen on Marli and Georl’s faces. Ella hesitated just a moment before delicately pulling me away.

  “Here now, don’t you look at that. I’ll have you cleaned up in just a bit,” she softly spoke. Her tone held a surprising amount of compassion.
In it was a level of understanding that seemed well beyond her few years.

  She sat me down gently in front of the wash basins and began carefully scrubbing the gore from my face. She took her time, gingerly brushing my face with the cloth before working the dried blood from my hair. All the while, she offered me soft words of comfort, and her tender ministrations were a stark contrast to the earlier violence of the evening. When she’d finished, Ella glanced down at my bloody clothing.

  “We need to get those off you now. Are you ready? Will it be okay, or do you need a bit more time first?” She said, clearly understanding the delicacy of her request.

  She was right. My clothes were a filthy, bloody mess. I definitely needed to get them off and finish cleaning myself up. But I suddenly realized that I had a problem.

  “Yes,” I said. “I need to get rid of these clothes, but this is my only outfit. I have nothing else to wear.”

  “Oh, my!” She said. “I hadn’t considered that. Wait just a moment; I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t worry—I’ll lock the door while I’m gone.”

  “Yes… Thank you,” I replied numbly.

  Promising once more to return quickly, she darted outside and locked the door behind her as she left.

  Suddenly alone and with nothing diverting my attention, the night’s events began running rapidly through my mind. The ambush. My confusion. The feeling of utter helplessness and terror, being at the mercy of that disgusting deviant. My thoughts became a tumbled confusion of emotions, and I began to shake uncontrollably in fear and outrage. I hugged myself desperately in an effort to regain some semblance of control, and as I huddled there, I felt the tears flowing freely down my face.

  I had never been so emotional in my life—this was not me. Even at my worst, in the day’s after Sarah’s death, I had never lost control of myself like this. I had cried, of course, but I had still remained the master of my emotions. I suddenly wondered if my heightened emotions were a result of being in this new body. Were there consequences beyond just the physical differences? I cast the thought aside, seeing that in my current condition, trying to unravel that mystery would be fruitless. Besides, I had bigger issues to deal with other than my seemingly delicate emotions.