“Faery girl! Don’t hurt faery girl!”

What came next is very hard to tell. Indeed, I have told it but once before, when I needed to, and I will tell it this time only because it forms a strand in the fabric of my story, and it wove itself into what came after. I have tried to blot their words and their actions from my memory, but I cannot. They said and did terrible things. I suppose it did not take much time to be over, but it seemed long, so long; and their words were burned into my head, scars like Simon’s that never quite healed.

“So this is your faery girl, eh, Will? Looks like flesh and blood to me. And a nice ripe little piece at that! Get an eyeful of this!”

He put his hand to my tunic and ripped it open right down the front, exposing my body from neck to ankle. I tried to cover myself, but found my arms pinioned from behind.

“How about that then?” said the other, almost drooling in his excitement. He fumbled with his belt. “Prize piece of fresh meat! Just the way I like it, young and juicy. Should be very tasty.” He turned to the simpleton, who was whimpering on the edge of the clearing, wringing his hands. “Leave off, Will! Your turn will come, lad. Big boys first.”

“Don’t hurt! Don’t hurt faery girl! Don’t hurt doggy!”

But they did. “Shut him up, will you?” said the first one, and the second one gave the boy a clout over the ear that sent him moaning to his knees.

Then, while the one held me down, the other spat on his fingers and shoved them inside me, and I sank my teeth through my lip, holding back my scream, and felt blood and tears wet my face as he pulled down his pants and forced himself into me. It hurt; it hurt so much, and I had no voice to curse him. I tried our old trick, tell a story to block out the pain…her name was Deirdre, lady of the forest…I screwed my eyes shut, not to see their red, sweaty, excited faces…if you were very quiet, as quiet as a…as a mouse, you might see her…I tried and tried, as it went on and on, and one shuddered and pulled away, and the other took his place. “See, not a word out of her! She loves it, don’t you, little slut? Some faery girl; this one’s mortal enough, belongs in the farmyard, she does. Best thing that ever happened to her, I’ll be bound.”

…the willows would rustle, as she went by…He was huge inside me, too big; I could not believe how big. The other gripped me around the chest, fingers bruising my flesh, hot breathing into my ear…in her cloak of deepest blue, and on her hair a crown of little stars…he thrust and thrust, until I thought I might split open, until I thought I would faint with the pain…she would…she would walk under the tall oaks and she would…The story slipped from my grasp, and there was only the awful, endless pounding, and the ugly voices, and the rising scream that threatened to burst out of me, however hard I clenched my teeth shut.