A Kinder, Gentler Genocide

A scream rang through the ally as the light from the sun was slowly being replaced with moonlight. The screaming continued for five minutes then all was silent. The rats returned to their foraging, the birds returned to their roust, but not all was right. A woman lay barely conscious in a puddle; naked and exposed to the worse the elements could throw at her. She lay there in the fetal position, her knees pressed against her chin and she wept. She had raped by an officer of an occupying nation. She lay there until she fell asleep, never to awake the same again.

Dawn came and she woke, still nude and now shivering. Frost had fallen in the night and she was chilled to the bone. Her eyes adjusted to the new found light as it struck her face with shear brilliance. The only thing she remembered was a face, its menacing grin, its pale gray eyes, its crooked nose. Then, it hit her, like a freight train it nailed her. She had met this nice officer from the occupying nation; he was charming, he could have swayed her to support them. She had talked to him for hours on end in the bar she worked in. He offered to walk her home, she had trusted him, he seemed so unlike the others, so different, so gentile. She was wrong, he was worse than the rest of them, he knew what he wanted and he came to the bar to get it. He had caught her line and sinker and lured her in. He got what he wanted.

The woman stood up and found tatters of her clothes a few feet from her. She slowly got up and walked to them and she placed them over her body as best she could to cover her. She was so ashamed; she walked home in complete silence, in complete shock as she stared at the ground. The once bright, cheerful bar maid had been scarred for life, scarred for accepting an apparent gentleman's kind offer, scarred for being who she was. Her face was blank of all emotion when her father and mother greeted her at their house. Their faces were reflections of utter horror as they saw the remains of her clothing. They stood there, mouths wide open.

"Wha' wha'? What happened to you? In the name of all that is good and holy what happened to you my daughter?!" Her father yelled the instant she was on their steps.

"I-I..." She broke off remembering the soldier's words. "Tell anyone what I did here and I'll slit your throat, and the beautiful bastard child you will make for me." She stood there wondering how she would be able to move, think, or speak. "Nothing, there was a fight down at the bar and I got stuck in the middle." she spoke uncertainly, wondering if they would believe her lie. She would have never lied to her parents but this was horrid, there wasn't anything she could do about it, so she lied, she lied to protect her family, herself, and the unborn child she now carried. she didn't know it yet, but she was pregnant with the soldier's child.

Nine months later she bore a child. He was blonde haired and brown eyed; the bastard son of an occupying force whose mother was raped and forced into silence. The son grew up thinking nothing of his origins, thinking nothing as to his father's whereabouts. The woman was grateful that he didn't, she couldn't bare to tell him. It tore her up inside, she hadn't told anyone who's son it was. They just assumed it was her boyfriend's, but the whispers still went around, none of it true, truth had lost all meaning in her town.

Finally, after several more years, the war ended and the troops were leaving. She went to see the parade of men march out of the war torn city. She watched intently, holding her son on her hip. His eyes had grown into their color, a deep sky blue. Her son had turned into a beautiful Aryan boy.

It was for this reason the soldier had raped her: to destroy her lineage. It was through this that he had destroyed her whole way of life. Her son was everything she stood against. Her son was the cause of a great war that destroyed, mangled, and ruined nations for decades to come. Her son was all that was evil and wrong in the world. What more damage could an army do to a person? They had destroyed her self worth and caused her to consider killing her only child. They had done it; they had raped her, then fucked her for life.

There, she saw the face, the same grin on his face as she saw the night he forced himself on her. There were the eyes that glittered with hatred as he raped her. There was the face that haunted her dreams every night and filled her thoughts every day. He was there. It was then that it happened, a shot rang out. No scream, just silence. It was then that she exacted revenge on her tormentor. It was then that she shot the man in the head from ten feet away. Two more shots echoed in the shallow streets.

Her last words to her baby were "There my child, see that dead man over there? He is your father." Then everything moved in slow motion. She raised the gun to her only son's head and pulled the trigger. She placed the gun to her stomach and fired the bullet; she believed since she had killed two people, one guilty as night and the other innocent as day, she deserved to suffer. It was over; the three were dead or dying, the end of the infinite struggle, the end of the internal war, the end to the raping all those ages ago. It was over, justice had been served and all was right in the world.