It's -my- life, a bitch or not

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It's -my- life, a bitch or not

Post by Admin on Fri May 26, 2017 8:26 pm

(Author's note : This series of posts was and is intended another character of the Circle that showed in a few other storylines. Written around 2014 and from first-person point of view.)


Oh yes. I did understand all too well they used me...

You didn’t had to be a grown up to get that. Children have feelings too, but either those men were oblivous to what they did me, or their sense of ethics differed from what I had witnessed before. I think it was the latter and I doubt they had any idea what was the right thing to do.
They just seemed confident over what they believed was -their- right to do. Yes, looking from the view of the law they were guilty for violating my rights. When you look at it ethically, they were only guilty if they were aware of doing so...


As I said before, their ethics differed. They were solidary and shared me with one another. They cared for each others ‘well being’ and they made sure their needs were fullfilled. A mindset and a behaviour that all began at the top of their little organisation.
But oh yes, in my eyes they were like wild beasts unleashed upon this world! Dirty, ragged and unshorn savages...


You know, I was really lucky. I only had to undergo this for a few weeks. Unlike one of the girls in my cage who had been in their grasp and circuit for years. It was really amazing how she had managed to survive since most girls just hung themselves after a period of months.
I never came close to that. Life really can be a bitch, but that didn’t mean it was my time to turn my back on it.

Perhaps it was because I always had faith I would be rescued one day? Or because ever since I was a small child I prayed to Lady Luck?

I really don’t know...

But I did get rescued indeed. Just not in a way I ever could have imagined.

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Re: It's -my- life, a bitch or not

Post by Admin on Fri May 26, 2017 8:27 pm

How I had ended up in there in the first place?

That would be a short story. My mother was a whore, my father her customer. Each had passed on a part of their deviant blood,... at least that is what I suspect. I guess I should consider myself lucky for my physical appearance being overall human. And... unlucky for being so beautiful in the eyes of the ones who had used me.
I never knew my father but my mother told me several things about him and underlined all too often how she reckoned him among the best ‘clientele’ she ever had. Should I have felt awkward about it back then? My mother talking about her customers on regular basis?
I think not, it was just... the life I grew up in. A life that lasted till I was about eleven.

Or at least that is what I thought back then.


One day my mother… found her destiny under the hands of what they called an… unpleased customer. In short, the man was put to death by hanging while I was abandoned to my fate. Unable to pay the bills I got kicked out of my mother’s house and ended up on the streets where I tried to survive by stealing things. Playing beggar wasn’t really my style.
I slept under bridges, in sewers and I even ended up in breaking into attics and basements when the weather conditions became erratic.


Looking for a job? Hmm, I think by the way how I looked… since it was hard to provide myself with new or even clean clothes… more or less every merchant lifted up his nose for me. I mean, who trusted a street kid? And those who took a lil time to chat with me and maybe… just maybe considered giving me a job, asked me where they could reach me. That was kinda hard since I didn’t had a place to stay. And since I lied to get people talk to me, I also lied and pretended how I stayed with my mother and how we just tried to get around. When they started asking questions, conversations like that ended rather quickly as I took off.

One time though I actually -did- persisted in the lies and I -did- tell a seemingly understanding merchant where I stayed over. I can still picture the cold hand over my mouth the very same night. I widened by eyes, was about to scream and kick but froze the moment I felt that stiletto pressing against my throat, pricking painfully at my skin.

The thought that went through me was that I was... gonna die, the thought of my very own impending death almost consuming me. I even couldn’t breathe, nor blink or beg for my life. I was terrified and convinced I wasn’t going to make adulthood.
In those first seconds when I was disrupted from my sleep,... I widened my eyes only to be greeted by the dark grey brick walls of the alleyway I called home at the time,... the scent of its littered, pee-stained ground going through my nose as I inhaled forcefully.

Home… it was only a weak definition for what is was but it was my place and they had just violated it.

And suddenly… the ground was gone, I was yanked up by someone else and twisted in the opposite direction. I had to gulp down a terrifying cry as the point of the weapon never really left my skin. Not much later my captor’s grip tightened under my armpits and I was tossed away, like a bag or a piece of garbage. But I was far more than that, even though at the time I wished I was less...


After being weeks in their circuit, a squad of Varanite soldiers rushed in and killed all the thugs. One thing those criminals had done ‘well’ was they had feeded me and cleaned me, and provided me with nice clothes… so I looked ‘good’. Unfortunately I also looked good in the eyes of one of the soldiers. I still can see that armoured hand gripping around one of the bars of my cage, and when I peeked up at his face to meet his eyes… I saw that very same look… just like the others.

But I was rescued a first time there.

The moment he opened that cage and tried to lay his hands on me in a way that had nothing to do with a rescue operation… another soldier entered the room. When he saw what his companion was doing, or about to… he kicked the man and beat him up.
And me? I just sneaked out and ran off without anyone seeing.

In short,... I lived on the streets for nearly two years and experienced things no teenager should ever have to go through.

But it was about to change...

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Re: It's -my- life, a bitch or not

Post by Admin on Fri May 26, 2017 8:29 pm

I returned to my ‘old’ life. Only this time I picked chic cobblestone streets, elegant quarry-stone buildings and flowered plazas as my habitat since I had become more cautious. Not that rich men would be less perverse but in sight of the law they would at least refrain themselves.
Nonetheless, during nighttime I learned to rely on the shadows and didn’t trust anyone as abuse was always lurking around the corner. I didn’t expect much compassion or sympathy from society. From where I was standing society looked down on me, I was discriminated against and those who didn’t try to take advantage were probably scared of me.


One day a wealthy looking lady hesitated when she saw me sitting at the corner of a street. I didn’t really understand why she stopped by as I must have looked ragged and dirty despite my attempts to keep myself clean and trying not to look like one of the ‘Neglected’. Maybe it was my music, maybe she took pity on me. Though, on the moment she was about the approach me, a man, probably her husband arrived and forcefully jerked her away from me.
As if I had a contagious disease...

There was no need to whisper to her as I perfectly could understand his body language and I was able to read his lips. I’m not sure what her intention was. Perhaps she wanted to offer me some coin, or a job, or even a roof over my head. I will never know but I -did- know his verdict on the matter...


Well… I guess there was at least one guy who didn’t even seemed interested in taking advantage of me.

Just when I thought Lady Luck had left me, things occured that changed my life. Forever? No idea. However, do you know the saying, everything gets worse before it gets better?
At least it got better...


I turned a lil sick and couldn’t afford medicins nor the food that would restore my energy back to normal. My stomach was growling more loudly with each passing day, the sounds from a dragon’s belly was nothing in comparison to that. At some point there seemed no meal in the entire universe big enough to sate my pervasive hunger.

The feeling dominated my life and crime was at that point the only answer. Though growing weaker each day with less and less food at my disposal, my fingers remained nimble enough to perform dishonest work.

Gulashir had many inns and it’s there I started my official career in thievery. In full public I used my pretty smile to keep eyes on my face while my hands searched pockets for anything valuable. I took a lot of risk there but at the time I was so confident about my own skills. And, I was working in public. Not in a dark alley or some sleeping home where I would be more at risk of physical abuse.

But again, I had no choice if I wanted to survive.


It all went rather well for several weeks and at some point I could even afford to rent a room. Small and empty, but it was clean, mine and it came with small accommodations like a shared bath area.

One day things went wrong. I got greedy as I followed a man of who I learned had a lot of gems in his pockets. After all, he did brag about it earlier, saying he carried a small kingdom in his pockets. He must have known about me cause as soon as I stalked him outside he grabbed me by surprise. I was exposed as a thief and he threatened to hand me over to the city guard if I even attempted to yell.

Then… faster than an eye could blink my… ‘innocence’ was once more taken from me,... once more I hadn’t been careful enough.

Although it was too late to save me from that, I did get saved there. A woman appeared behind his back while he was having his act on me… and she just stabbed him. I still can see two rapier ends emerging from his chest as I turned my head. Immediately his hands were gone and I sank to my knees on the cold cobblestones.

Not for long though. I felt how a warm cloak was draped over me and in a fast-forward blur I was suddenly in a warm home. I was bathed, my hairs were cut and combed, my wounds were cleaned and healed and I was fed.
For five days I wasn’t allowed to leave that room but each day the lady stopped by to chat with me, to comfort me and after listening to my tale she assured me my life was about to improve.

In return I learned she was the Madam of a brothel located in the richer section of the city. I had been accomodated in one of the rooms and I was allowed to stay with her. She offered me work, food, a roof over my head, and some coin to spare. Thankfully she was wise enough not to offer me to one of her customers, nor did she ever use me. She didn’t even think about that.
Instead I started cleaning certain rooms, made beds while listening to the sounds of activities in other rooms. Later on I also was allowed to move outside again. I made several deliveries and did chores for the Madam.


But how could I have known the Madam had been watching me since for a long time. It was no coincidence when she showed up on the moment that man raped me. Nor was it coincidence I was able to pick up sounds from other rooms in one place of the brothel, while I couldn’t in another. How could I have known that apparent small deliveries were letters of great importance with information obtained at the brothel?

I guess it’s no mystery now why I am who I am…


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Re: It's -my- life, a bitch or not

Post by Admin on Fri May 26, 2017 8:31 pm

I stayed at the Madam’s side, grateful as I was. She offered me all I needed, and more. And I returned it,... whenever she needed anything… she got it. During the year after my rescue a bond gradually grew although I think there was a connection from the start. Despite the difference in age... friendship developed between us and I was entrusted with more and more secrets about the role of her brothel. More and more it dawned on me she had been scouting. I was her protegé indeed, but also for one other important reason.

Based on how I had survived on the street she had chosen me as her future right hand, an assistant if you will since in her eyes I would be trustworthy. Never was I asked as a bed warmer... though I think she harbored certain feelings for me at some point. And frankly I had some too. It was love I think but of another kind. She was a bit like a big sister, or an aunt. But never did she became overprotective. On the contrary, in a way we were all in danger of being exposed... all the time.

By the time I turned seventeen I had learned I was active in an organisation called the Circle. The Madam who I was ‘working’ for turned out to be head of intelligence and was the leader of a section they called the ‘Watchers Band’. When a cat had peed in some diplomat’s tea cup, she knew about it. When that exact same person overstepped the limit, lopsided and ended up in the wrong room… well… she knew the exact number of arousements that had taken place.
Meanwhile I had learned how to fight and defend myself, and how to conceal numerous of weapons under a minimum of fabric. Since I had a raw talent for acting and entertaining I was more than often deployed on several occassions and wherever a watchful eye or performer as a distraction was required.

Around that very age I also already had been deployed as an infiltrator or spy in order to obtain intelligence or scout ahead for other bands. And of course I realised I was part of a criminal organisation, but I was already into crime even before that time and… they meant something bigger to me. A family… criminal… but nonetheless a family, and we were into it together, just like now.
Of course they were cruel since they murdered people in cold blood for hard coin. Something I only did when necessary or during… incidents... which they made look like unfortunate accidents if it occured.
It’s not that I didn’t care but I also knew a lot of bad people were slain by the ‘sharp edge’ of the Circle.

Canites for instance… but I get back on that later.


A few years later I was introduced to another important person of the Circle in the Madam’s personal suite. I can still picture that moment so well, so clear. I recall a dark hooded man leaning against the wall behind the Madam’s desk, his arms crossed, his stance relaxed and casual. But I also sensed the danger he seemed to ooze, I sensed the speed with which he could draw the rapier on his belt of which I already back then was betting it was poisoned.
And something else. When he lowered his hood, his appearance made my heart stop. Handsome yes… very much so…

But it was as if I was looking in the eyes of someone with family blood…



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Re: It's -my- life, a bitch or not

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