by K. A Knight
“She wore it every day. When I buried her, I knew I had to keep it. Something told me it was important, and now I know it was for you.”
I feel tears well in my eyes and try to blink them away, but they flow down my cheeks as I reach out and run a soft finger down my father’s face. I thought I had forgotten what he looked like, the way he smiled. “He smelled like cedar all the time. He had a comb for his brush, and every time he laughed, he would end it with a little giggle. He hated pie but loved ice cream. His favourite colour was blue, not like the sky, but the deep blue that used to be the ocean.” Looking up with the tears running down my face, I smile at him. “I remember him, I remember everything. Thank you. I never thought I would see them again, and you have given them both back to me.”
“They were always with you, Piper. This is just an anchor for them. They will follow you through this life. The lessons they taught you make you the woman you are today, and wherever they are, I know they are proud of you and waiting for the day you will be together again.” He closes the box, takes the necklace, and gestures for me to turn. I do, and he moves my hair, drapes the necklace over my neck, and clasps it. Turning to face him, I watch it fall to lie right over my heart. I cover it with my hand. Like he said, it’s as if they are right here with me.
“Now they get to see the world with you. Carry them with you, and they will be with you on your lowest and highest days. That’s what family is for.” He looks to the house then. “A family comes in all shapes, sizes, and ages. Blood or not blood, family is who you choose to love, who stays with you. Celebrate your highs, hold hands at your lows. Family is whatever you want to make it, and you, Piper? You have made an incredible family.”
“I have, haven’t I?” I whisper, holding her necklace. “And you are part of that now.”
He smiles at me, and I lean in and kiss his cheek. “She was lucky to be loved by you.” I stand and look into his eyes again. “We’ll meet again, but until then, enjoy the quiet.”
He doesn’t follow, but that’s okay. I head back inside and linger in the kitchen. “Look after him for me, Mum,” I murmur, dragging my hand along the table. “I’ll be back. Goodbye.” I turn to see my men in the doorway, waiting for me.
“Are you ready, Princess?” Archel asks, probably knowing how hard this is for me. Here on this cliff, I found my mother again. I feel close to her, and I’m walking away, but the locket helps. When we set off up north, I expected adventure, but instead I found my past…and myself.
“Yeah,” I whisper before clearing my throat. “Let’s do it. Piper’s Penis Pals for the win!” I call, and they laugh as we head down to our bikes, Beast Jr. in tow. Before we fade into the trees, I turn back and spot Abel at the door, watching us go with a wave and a smile, and I know we will be back, but until then, it’s time to return to The Ring.
It’s time to go back to being damned.
We make frequent stops, as directed by Evan, and each time, he checks Jago over and occasionally makes him drink or eat something and take more pain medicine. Archel and I play with Beast Jr. while Jago rests, stretching his legs before he has to get back on the bike again.
We don’t want to stop up north for the night in case there are any stragglers waiting for us, so we push the bikes to their limits, and just as night sets in, we find ourselves past Ivar’s castle. After searching for another twenty or thirty minutes, we discover an old, broken motorway bridge. The road cuts off halfway across, but the edge seems safe, and after Clay and Jago jump on it to make sure it doesn’t collapse, we set up camp. No one can sneak up on us this way.
Archel and Clay make a barricade with the bikes and some old burnt cars by pushing them in the way. We would hear anyone trying to get to us before they even got close. We are in the open, more so than we would normally be, but it doesn’t feel too exposed. The land around us is flat, and there is nothing but destroyed buildings on the horizon and more sand.
Everywhere.
We build a fire just in case there are any ferals around, and I force Jago to lie down and rest while I take first watch after eating. “Protect,” I order Beast Jr. He whines but lies down by Jago, easily remembering some of the commands we have taught him.
I perch on the roof of a decayed, sand-covered four-wheeler, my legs stretched across where the windshield used to be. My boots clear the sand from the hood as I keep my crossbow on my lap and scan the horizon. I can hear Jago’s snores, although he protested he was tired. Today took it out of him—not that he would ever complain—Evan too. I saw it in his eyes, and when I glance over, he’s watching Jago again, keeping an eye on our injured beast.
Clay is asleep by the fire, while Archel sits by it, polishing his weapons. Turning forward, I let my mind wander, even as I keep my eyes sharp. The land around is silent apart from the crackle of the flames and my men’s breathing.
“You okay?” comes a whisper, making me jump out of my skin and almost fall from the vehicle. Archel chuckles as he hops up behind me, his legs spread on either side, before he yanks me into his chest.
“Motherfucking silent asshole,” I grumble, even as I relax into his embrace. “I warned you, one more time and you are wearing a bell.”
“I’m not that bad.” He chuckles as he kisses my neck.
“I almost cut off my lips when shaving because you snuck up on me.” I turn my head and meet his laughing gaze. “And not the lips on my head, Archel.”
“Okay, I’ll be louder.” He grins, only saying it to make me shut up. With a huff, I turn back to observe as he leans into me.
“You should be asleep,” I murmur.
“I can never sleep without you in my arms, Princess, you know that. We’ll watch together, take turns napping here,” he tells me when he thinks I’m about to complain about him needing his rest.
“Fine, you sleep first,” I mutter, making him laugh again.
“Tell me a story then.” He sighs as he leans further into me, each of us holding the other up. I don’t worry, because I know if we were attacked, he would react before me, even if he was asleep.
“There once was a sneaky assassin with a big dick…” I begin, and he starts to laugh as I dive into the story, getting more and more over the top. He’s laughing so hard, he’s shaking.
“Okay, okay, stop, Princess. Jesus.” He grins, kissing my neck. “I fucking love you.”
“I know.” I snigger. “Who wouldn’t? Now go to sleep, my big dicked assassin.”
“Goodnight, Princess,” he murmurs as he settles back. I keep my eyes on the horizon, even as I smile.
“Goodnight, my love.”
The next morning, we get on the road early after kicking sand over the fire and cleaning up after ourselves. We have only been driving for thirty minutes before a scream cuts through the air. I turn my head and skid to a stop. The bike rumbles under me as I cock my head and listen. My men stop around me, listening too, and a moment later, a male yell and a high-pitched, ragged female shriek sounds.
I hear genuine terror in their voices. I turn towards the sound, and without a second’s hesitation, I race towards it. As we get closer, I hear their screams getting louder and more desperate, and accompanying it is…laughter.
Human laughter.
This isn’t a cannibal or feral attack. This is a fucking human on human attack.
Not on my fucking watch. In my haste, I almost barrel over the cliff that suddenly appears out of nowhere. The ground just stops. I quickly leave my bike, grab my crossbow, and peek over the edge, scanning the situation. There’s a woman on the ground fighting off two huge, dirty men who are above her, ripping at her dress. There’s a male who’s pinned down, but other men laugh as they watch her struggle. The restrained man screams and tries to break free.
“Piper, no!” Evan yells as I leap over the edge and slide down, firing as I go. I hit the one who rips her dress free right through his ear. He stumbles back with the arrow sticking from his skull, and when he turns, I fire into his throat. He d
rops to his knees as I land at the bottom, getting to my feet and aiming at the other assailant. He roars and turns to me, ignoring the woman who scrambles away, trying to cover herself. I hear my men’s footsteps as they hit the ground.
“Get the man,” I order. “This bastard is mine,” I snarl, my own past coming to mind. I fight through the memories, through my own screams and pleas that fell on deaf ears. It enrages me more, and when I meet her empty, numb eyes, I lose it. It’s how I felt with their dirty hands on my body—traumatised, hollow, disconnected. No. I won’t let that happen here.
I storm towards him, letting go of my crossbow. This fucker deserves to have a long, drawn-out death.
I pull a knife from my boot as I move. The blade is long enough to hurt, but not kill. No he will bleed out, and it will be agony. He rushes me, grabbing for me with his meaty hands. I duck and slice across his stomach as he howls. Whirling around him, I cut across his back and then his legs. He spins wildly, bleeding.
“Want to play with women? Fucking try me, asshole,” I hiss.
In my head, it’s them—the men who attacked me. Their sneering faces, dirty touches, and violations crowd my vision until I can barely see nor hear. My whole focus narrows down to this man—this man who thinks he has a right to lay a hand on an nonconsenting woman, who thinks her body is his to take. He’s fucking wrong. So fucking wrong. This world is filled with rapists like him. Ones who play the victim, the ones who blame the victims, the ones who get angry, those who deny it, and those who blame the world and their upbringing. But they are fucking adults, and they know right from wrong, they just don’t care.
They think they are worth more, think women’s bodies are only made for their pleasure. They don’t give a fuck about the aftereffects, and they don’t care about anything but achieving what they want. It’s a sick fucking world where women don’t even feel safe to exist simply for being born with a vagina. This isn’t a man’s fucking world, and they have no right.
No fucking right.
Women owe nothing to no one.
We deserve to feel safe. We deserve for our daughters to have a better life than us, to never have to know the pain, the pure numbing terror, the guilt, and the blame we put on ourselves. It’s time men understood they can’t get away with it any longer. That this isn’t their world anymore. This isn’t about equality, this is about pure fucking right from wrong. This is about our bodies being our own.
They are in the wrong, and there are too many of them. Each man is a potential attacker. I know the feeling, I struggled for so long. I still do. In every eye, I expect a promise. In every hand, I expect pain. I expect to be forced, taken. They not only stole my body, but my mind. They stole my confidence, my trust, and that’s hard to earn back while they walk away without a backwards glance.
Not anymore.
Not to this woman or any other. I don’t care if it means I’m aggressive, or if I have to cover myself in their blood. This world is being taken back. If I have to wipe all of them out for someone to feel safe enough to walk alone, I will.
The percentage stops here, with me. With her. With them.
They might have taken my body, but they didn’t take my voice or my feet, which I stand on right now. I reclaimed my body, and I’ll reclaim this world. For my mother. For Worth. For Clarissa. For the stranger huddled behind me with dirty handprints covering her soft skin.
Showing him the bloody knife, I bare my teeth at him. “How about I fucking bend you over and shove this up your ass and see how you like it?” I snarl. I rush him again, and this time, I slice off his shirt like he did her. He stumbles back for a moment, and I use it to stab into his belly, twisting and twirling away as he screams. He falls to his knees, and I grab his head, forcing him to look at her. “Look at her, it will be the last thing you ever fucking see.” I stab his neck over and over. Fury has taken over. I can feel my movements and the blood splashing across me. I can hear talking, footsteps, and the yelps of Beast Jr. as he tries to get my attention.
But I’m lost.
Arms wrap around me, pulling me away as the man falls forward, choking on his blood. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to know how it feels to have your own body taken away from you.
He deserves to suffer. They all do.
“He’s dead, Brawler,” Jago coos, holding me in mid-air as I struggle to get back to him. “He’s dead, they are safe.” He turns me to see the man cradling the woman, who is crying and holding onto him dearly, but Jago’s right. I settle, and he releases me. Sucking in a deep breath, I move closer before getting to my knees.
“Are you okay?” I ask as softly as I can.
The man looks at me and nods. “Thanks to you. How can I ever repay you?”
“No need. Look, I don’t know where you’re going, but there is a safe zone—”
“We can’t,” the woman cries, wiping her face. “We are grateful, but we have to find our daughter.”
Archel hands me a cloth, and I wipe my face. Beast Jr. is there at my side, tugging on my pants and licking me like he’s trying to help me. He lopes away, and I watch him run to one of the bodies and start biting, making me smile. “Your daughter?” I ask, turning back to them.
“Yes. She left a couple of weeks ago, leaving us a note. We have to find her. Maybe you’ve seen her?” She scrambles to her bag before freezing as her dress falls away. She flinches, and I look up as my men instantly turn away, surrounding them to protect her from anyone that might come along. In that moment, I fall in love all over again.
These men right here always restore my faith in the world, in goodness and love, and when Clay drags his shirt off and tosses it back to me, I melt. I grab it and hand it over, but her arms refuse to work and she cries. Between the man and me, we manage to get it on her, and she instantly straightens a bit. “Thank you,” she murmurs, before the man I think is her husband roots around in her bag and pulls out a tattered, tiny piece of paper and hands it over.
I freeze and my blood turns cold. It’s a picture, a polaroid, of a young, smiling girl. She’s beautiful. There is such joy in her eyes and face, but it’s not her expression that has me wanting to sob—it’s because I know her. The note she wrote is burning a hole my pocket.
“She was going south, but we think we can—Is everything okay?” she asks, and I lift my head numbly to stare at her. I don’t know if she sees it in my eyes, but she disintegrates, sobbing, shaking her head, and shuddering.
“I’m sorry,” I offer. “I do know her. We found her body a week ago.”
“What? No, that can’t be right. Not her,” her dad snaps, but I ignore the anger, knowing it’s not directed at me.
“I’m sorry, it was. We buried her. We didn’t want to leave her there. Here, we found this in her possession, it’s a note to you.” I carefully pull it free and hand it back with the picture before moving away to give them privacy. I head over to my men and instantly melt into their embraces, needing their comfort. I don’t know why I kept the note until now, but a part of me is glad they will know, that they don’t have to wonder for so long like I did.
I hear their sobs as we stand stoically for an hour or so. Eventually, we hear the clearing of a throat. “Thank you for giving us this.” We turn and meet the man’s eyes. He’s holding the woman again, who is shaking her head with the note clutched in her grip.
“You should know we buried her with as much respect as we could. We even had a small ceremony. If you wish, we could take you there.”
“I-I would like that, to say goodbye.” He nods, tears filling his eyes.
“Of course,” I murmur and look to my men, feeling helpless. Their pain is so palpable.
What are the odds that in all of this deserted world, I would run into them? Her parents? As if her note called them to me. For some reason, the fact I was able to save them resonates with me. I couldn’t save her, but I saved her parents, and her legacy will live on with them. It will live on in the change in this world. Her
death fans the flames that burn inside of me, driving me to tackle this world one person at a time until it’s a safe place to live.
“If you ever feel like you can share, I’d love to know more about your daughter. She seemed like an incredible person. She deserves to be remembered, to be known.”
“You…you care about her?” her dad questions quickly. “Why? We are strangers.”
“Everyone’s a stranger at first.” I shrug. “This world is changing. We aren’t all like those monsters out there. I’m sorry your daughter isn’t around to see it, but there are people out there who care. People who will want to remember her name.”
“It’s happening, just like she said,” her mother whispers. “People are fighting back. Did you hear that, Steve? It’s finally changing.” She sniffs and looks at me. “She always said it would, that the world couldn’t stay this way forever. She always believed there was somewhere out there that was safe and thriving. It’s why she left, to find us a better life. Can we come with you?”
“Of course. Let me show you the new world.”
We leave with the couple. They have their own bike, but it’s slower and rusted, so we surround them and stay at their speed. When we stop for the night, they cry, and we give them protection and privacy. On the third day, we reach the girl’s grave. They weep over her resting spot, telling stories to us the whole time. We listen, storing them with our own. We will never forget this brave girl who set out into the world just like me.
When they are ready, we drive back to The Ring with them in tow. I assure them they can come back whenever they want, and we will even escort them, but they seem exhausted, and they need to be checked over, so it’s The Ring for now. We don’t stop that night, riding until the sun rises as we reach the gates to my home.
“Welcome to The Nations,” I murmur as we stop before the gates to The Ring. “Welcome to the future your daughter dreamed of.”