“You’re such a good girl… such a pretty girl… don’t you make a sound, that’s good… daddy’s little girl, you’re so good for me…” She recognized the words that fell on her like bricks, though they came in such soothing tones, such praising rumbles… she felt the confusion of the moment and heard those words come again to catch her in-between wishes. Petra recognized the hot breath on her neck and the pain on her skin, in her heart, inside her where she felt violated and infinitely repulsive, like she would never be clean again. It moved too fast to understand, but Petra felt it. A sob escaped her throat, and then she found herself in a storm of memory and emotion. She pressed herself into the wall with more force, shivered, and closed her eyes. Petra went still, tense, like a frightened animal. They groped for a moment in the darkness, then found her, brushed her bushy hair. It took just a minute for thick fingers to reach down into Petra’s bunk. She pushed back against the mattress and into the wall, and waited for the man to come to her. Petra watched with wide eyes, her skin still tight from tears, as the figure moved from child to child and, with a touch, brought forth a flow of such terrible emotion that Petra found panic clutching at her chest again. Anguished wails pierced the air, and tears caught the light through the open doors of the bunk room and glittered it back at a figure who stood walking among the rows of now-crying children like a god. She was woken what must have been just a moment later, though now the room was dark. Petra felt air enter her lungs again, and shuddered into a dreamless sleep. She lost track of time, of everything, and curled tightly in on herself, burrowing into the skimpy army-issue blankets and trying to focus on the pain coursing through her scalp as her small, shaking fingers tugged at tiny black coils. She felt it in the hollow within her chest, felt it grasp at her throat and tighten until her breath came in short, desperate gasps. Then she heard again the angry shouts of the others, felt the fluorescent light glare through her eyelids, and in the overwhelming harshness, anxiety seized her. She closed her eyes, smiled, rested her head back on her pillow and let her arms drape languidly over the top of her skull. For a moment, Petra’s chest continued to throb with confidence, and she felt the dangerous pride she wore over her features sink fragile, probing roots into the surface of her body. At least, she considered, Petra would have the corner mostly to herself. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it would do. As the last of the launchies trickled in, the room spun into a blur of aggression and shouting, and Petra matched the fury and passion of the others until she ended up on the lower bunk in the back left corner. Instead she strode, her steps falling confidently on the smooth concrete, and immediately sought out a top bunk at the back of the room. This is essentially Ender's Game fanfiction.]Ī herd of launchies shuffled through the doors of their new living quarters, and though Petra was among them, she did not shuffle with them.
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