Her Rising

Chapter3

Another day.

At sixteen, my life had already rotted into a cycle of cruelty and silence. I had grown into my body, curves were now where angles once were, soft features shaped by a childhood of hard fists and sharp words.

My beauty, as they called it, became another curse. In the palace halls, I was no longer just the mute disappointment of a father who wished I'd never been born, I was a thing to be used, a temptation, and a toy.

I was slapped if I spoke, kicked if I hesitated, and beaten if I couldn't keep up. My body was not just a battlefield, for fists, but for greedy eyes and lecherous hands. There was no sanctuary, not even in my sleep, or behind locked doors, there were rather no locked doors.

"You're growing up beautifully," one of the nobles had once said, his fingers grazing my jaw like I was a prized mare he was appraising.

"It's a shame that mouth of yours stays shut, I could teach you how to use it."

I hadn't responded, I never did but my silence didn't save me, instead it made them more eager.

And my father....he didn't just allow it, he invited it. "She might be useless," I once overheard him growl to a visiting lord, "but she's not ugly. If she can't shift, she might as well spread her legs, at least let her be good for something."

That was the first time I truly understood what I was to him, I wasn't just his biggest disappoinment or even a disgrace.

I was a currency...

The first time a man forced himself on me, it was in the eastern wing of the fortress. He was a visiting ally, wealthy, and bloated with drink and lust, he had given my father a new cache of silver-forged blades in exchange for an hour with me.

I was thrown into a room scented with musk and wine, the curtains were drawn tight, and the windows were bolted. He was a man twice my father's age, swollen with wealth and indulgence.

He grabbed me by the hair, dragged me to the bed, and called me names I didn't even understand then. I remember the coldness of the sheets, and the sharp snap of my wrists as I struggled. He expected me to cry, and when I didn't, he growled in my face.

"You're still playing the ghost huh? You'll cry for me soon enough."

And he was right.

I did cry.

He stripped me of all my clothes and I was left bare before him, I struggled to get out, but he held me down and soon enough thrusted deep into me and for the first time in my life, I screamed, I screamed so loud the walls themselves trembled, it was on instinct, raw, broken and out of pain. But instead of rushing in to stop him, the guards outside just laughed.

"She talks!"

"She screams, more like," another laughed, "Well It's about time."

"She can make noise after all."

"Had to be someone rough enough to break the mute."

And after it was over, I was left on the stone floor, bleeding, shaking, and humiliated, and all they did was throw my torn clothes over me and drag me back to my chambers like nothing had happened.

But it didn't stop there.

Nobles, merchants, allied commanders, name it.

Whoever had coin or favor, they were welcome to me. My body became a passage for politics, a reward for loyalty and a cage I couldn't escape.

The more I grew, the worse it got and their justifications got simpler, "She's not worth much, might as well give her to someone who'll enjoy her."

So I learned to shrink into corners, to breathe without being heard, to hide my face beneath veils when I could steal one. Because to be seen was to be chosen and to be chosen was to be broken.

One day, my father left for the Western Border on some war campaign and for the first time in weeks, I thought maybe I could breathe, but monsters don't always wear crowns. Sometimes, they share your own blood.

My younger brothers, Riko and Daren, lounged in the great hall, half-drunk and half-bored, surrounded by three of their friends, and I made the mistake of walking past the corridor too close.

"Oi! Syl!" Daren called out, slurring slightly.

I froze.

"Did you not hear me? Come here, mutie"

I turned my face, and kept walking. One more step, just one more....

"Guards! Bring the b***h here!"

They grabbed me and I tried to fight, but they were stronger.

I was shoved into the chamber, five of them circling me like wolves who hadn't eaten in days. The stench of wine and sweat made my stomach twist in disgust, and they laughed at my silence and taunted my stillness.

"She's got real curves now, look at that," one of the friends said, licking his lips like a dog.

"Imagine what a little effort could do. A dress, and maybe a wash..."

"She doesn't deserve a dress," my younger brother, Daren, chuckled.

"She's a mutt and besides Father says she's better off naked."

I tried to back away.

"Please... don't," I whispered, the words breaking free from my mouth without permission.

And they stilled.

"She talked," one of the friends gasped mockingly, "And here I thought she was cursed mute."

"She begs too, oh gods, this day keeps getting better," Daren laughed.

"Show us how else you've changed, sister."

"No..."

I tried to run, but I didn't get far, their hands grabbed me, cold, rough and unrelenting.

"Strip her."

I screamed, I begged, I clawed and kicked and cried. But they were stronger and worse, they were entertained.

The guards outside didn't enter, some turned away and one of them muttered under his breath,

"She doesn't deserve this." But he didn't stop it, no one ever did.

One by one they violated me in ways I cannot speak of, every last shred of dignity I clung unto was taken away with every scream that left my body.

When it was over, they left me bleeding on the stone cold floor, laughing and stumbling out like they'd just played a harmless game.

Riko paused at the door, and looked back at me, and smirked.

"You're finally useful for something."

I lay there, my body shattered, my throat sore, and my vision blurry.

I didn't move, not for minutes, not for hours, but that day, I learned something new.

I learned how to hate.

Not the loud kind, not the kind that flares like fire. No...no, this hatred was quiet, it felt deep and coiled in my gut like a serpent.

I would remember their faces, every hand, every insult and every name.

Because I was not gone, I was waiting, someday everything would change, I don't know how, or when but one day, the silent girl would rise.

And she would send them all to Hades.