It's not a word she's ever said aloud about herself, even now after telling a few people what happened, sort of. It's not a word she's really dared to think. Rape is a thing that happens to good girls, by strangers probably a bit like the thugs she's kept company with since she was small, who appear out of alleys. That's part of the point, isn't it? She had to stop him, not for what he did to her, but so that it didn't ever happen to Cosette, or Verity, Rosie, Betty. Any of them. So that they don't ever have to harden up quite like her.
If he raped her, then she's been raped by a good few men, and just thinking about it makes her feel dizzy and sick and like she might need to Go Away again.
So she pauses, and takes her tea in her hands as if the heat itself will center her.
"I didn't say no," she hazards, "not like that, but he wanted his way with me, and sometimes it's just so much easier..."
She takes a breath and stares at the edge of her mug. "My father," she starts, and it shouldn't be related but it is. "He'd have us go out to deliver letters to wealthy men. Asking for money, you know? Telling a story to make us seem more noble than just beggars on the street. It's better when it's a child. Twelve and eleven when we started. It looks better than an unshaven man in the same rags, doesn't it? Sometimes they were good people, and they wanted to help."
She shrugs one shoulder, diffident and distant. "Sometimes they wanted a little more for their coin. Plenty of ladies did it. After the first time I knew it was something I had to offer."
"So I'd just go away in my head and let it happen. Tried to keep Azelma from it, too much." Her voice shakes a little If she's dead, back there, no one's keeping Azelma from anything. She takes a sip of tea and flattens her tone out again.
"Anyway. That's what happened that night. Without the coin, of course. Just -- I went away, and let him have his way with me, because it was easier. Couldn't have fought him, didn't want it to be worse, and who'd believe me anyway? But he said something, while he was at it."
"Said that he liked the way girls my age were." She can't -- won't -- go into detail about the fact that it was a bit of a whimper, a sound he'd liked. Marcus can't know that. Some things she has to keep. "That they tried to put up a front but they wanted it."
The sick, shaky part of her in her roils with anger even thinking about it. "I couldn't stop thinking about it."
uh, if it wasn't already apparent, tw: description of child rape
It's not a word she's ever said aloud about herself, even now after telling a few people what happened, sort of. It's not a word she's really dared to think. Rape is a thing that happens to good girls, by strangers probably a bit like the thugs she's kept company with since she was small, who appear out of alleys. That's part of the point, isn't it? She had to stop him, not for what he did to her, but so that it didn't ever happen to Cosette, or Verity, Rosie, Betty. Any of them. So that they don't ever have to harden up quite like her.
If he raped her, then she's been raped by a good few men, and just thinking about it makes her feel dizzy and sick and like she might need to Go Away again.
So she pauses, and takes her tea in her hands as if the heat itself will center her.
"I didn't say no," she hazards, "not like that, but he wanted his way with me, and sometimes it's just so much easier..."
She takes a breath and stares at the edge of her mug. "My father," she starts, and it shouldn't be related but it is. "He'd have us go out to deliver letters to wealthy men. Asking for money, you know? Telling a story to make us seem more noble than just beggars on the street. It's better when it's a child. Twelve and eleven when we started. It looks better than an unshaven man in the same rags, doesn't it? Sometimes they were good people, and they wanted to help."
She shrugs one shoulder, diffident and distant. "Sometimes they wanted a little more for their coin. Plenty of ladies did it. After the first time I knew it was something I had to offer."
"So I'd just go away in my head and let it happen. Tried to keep Azelma from it, too much." Her voice shakes a little If she's dead, back there, no one's keeping Azelma from anything. She takes a sip of tea and flattens her tone out again.
"Anyway. That's what happened that night. Without the coin, of course. Just -- I went away, and let him have his way with me, because it was easier. Couldn't have fought him, didn't want it to be worse, and who'd believe me anyway? But he said something, while he was at it."
"Said that he liked the way girls my age were." She can't -- won't -- go into detail about the fact that it was a bit of a whimper, a sound he'd liked. Marcus can't know that. Some things she has to keep. "That they tried to put up a front but they wanted it."
The sick, shaky part of her in her roils with anger even thinking about it. "I couldn't stop thinking about it."