Warning: This chapter contains themes of sexual assault. If this is triggering or uncomfortable for you, please skip to the next chapter.

The next morning, I sat in the dining hall, struggling to keep my eyes open. Although I had finally gotten back to the ludus, it was only after sleeping outside and slipping past exhausted guards at daybreak.

The food we were fed was some sort of grain. It had been sitting in water and heated over a fire, leaving a fatty, lumpy, grayish white paste. Though they called it cereal, I found it looked more like bird waste.

After shoving down the gruel, I stood, head down. I deposited my dirty dishes at the designated station, and moved toward the exit. Two guards stood at each exit, a constant reminder of our status. Though we were treated with the best medical attention in Rome, and never went hungry, the public still considered us to be lower than the starving slaves that worked in the fields. To Rome, and the rest of the Empire too, we were simply the entertainment. We were objects, pawns to be bet on, and animals to fight to the death to quench bloodthirsty appetites. We weren't people.

Eyes glued firmly on the floor, I stepped out of the hall, aiming for the doctor's room. The doctor was a leering, overweight man with a thin layer of facial hair surrounding loose, pudgy lips, and as much as I hated to see him, he took special pleasure in ratting out gladiators who didn't follow his instructions to the letter. Mine had been to see him daily so he could re-bandage my arm.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a strong hand landed on my bicep. Instinctively, I twisted, rotating my arm up and around, then slammed it down on the arm of the person who had grabbed me. The hand released me. A loud grunt echoed through the hallways, and a curse.

"Bitch!" A male voice hissed. I backed up with rapid steps, stopping when my back hit the wall of the stone hallway behind me. I looked up to find gleaming metal and a red swish of fabric move closer to me. A guard. His face was twisted in a scowl. "Gladiatrix whore! What makes you think you can touch me?" He was almost touching me, as he leaned over, getting in my face.

I swallowed, knowing it was better if I didn't answer.

He slapped me. I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my tongue to the top of my mouth to quell the stinging burn on my cheek. My vision blurred slightly.

"I know what you did." He stared down at me, the icy blue flecks in his eyes boring into me.

"What did I do?" I asked, breathing heavily.

"Don't play stupid, girl." A smirk began to stretch his face. "That won't help."

"What?" Confusion blanketed my mind.

He moved closer, pressing me up against the wall. Metal dug into my stomach, and the scratch of rough stone on my back prickled and stung. "I know you weren't in your cell last night." He whispered, grinning.

Fear shot through my gut. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was there, just like every other night." I lied through my teeth.

"Yes you do." Suddenly he had my arms pressed to the wall above my head. "And if you want me to keep quiet, you're going to have to do something for me... in compensation." He leered.

"Go to hell." I hissed.

The guard shook his head, tutting. "You're digging yourself deeper, now."

I glared. "I said. Go. To. Hell."

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind us, each strike sounding louder and louder. The man in front of me tensed, but didn't move. Another man stepped around the corner, wearing familiar red fabric and metal swinging at his side. The new guard stopped when he saw us. "What's this, Dulius?" He asked, eyes bouncing between the guard and I.
"Want to join in, Plinius?" The guard holding me to the wall asked, a smirk growing on his face. "We were just going to have a little fun." He looked back at me. "Weren't we, bitch?"

My eyes flicked back to the other guard, my heart sinking as he sauntered closer.

A heavy hand landed on my breast. The first guard shoved me up against the wall, his breath fanning over my face with putrid fumes. I clenched my teeth as he squeezed, letting a thin stream of air through my teeth.

"Get your filthy hands off of me." I ground out, anger and fear clamoring for space in my chest.

The man laughed. "You hear that, Plinius? She wants me to stop." He turned back to me. "Poor little gladiatrix, nowhere to go when you're lonely..." He trailed off meaningfully, leering.

"Get your hands off or I will do it for you." I hissed.

"What arrogance." The guard smirked. "We'll have to fix that for you."

Gritting my teeth, I pushed one hand into the guard's gut, and drove my knee into his groin. I then propelled my body off the wall with all my power, forcing the guard to stumble backwards. He grunted but managed to stay on his feet.

My eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. The second one lunged at me, and I kicked him away, his weight forcing me up against the wall.

The first guard was coming at me now. I ducked under his fist and slipped past his lumbering body, but not before he got a handful of my clothing. A quiet scream was wrenched from my throat before I was slammed up against the wall again. My head hit the rock and for the second time in two days my head pounded and spun like the gods were trampling it themselves. My heart raced as my vision blacked out.

"Stupid bitch." I heard through the ringing of my ears. My vision blurred back to life and I saw a face coming at me before I was crushed up against the stone. A mouth hit mine and a body forced itself closer to me. I gasped and tried to move my head but I couldn't. A hand groped my breast and squeezed, and tears came to my eyes from the pain. A tongue bashed into my mouth and I choked, chest heaving. Desperately, I bit down, and heard a grunt of pain from my attacker. Opening my mouth, I sucked in a breath to scream, but a hand crashed over my lips again. The taste of sweat and dirt invaded my mouth and I gagged, trying without success to move my head away.

The guard's hand reached my most private parts. Fear overtook me, racing faster and faster, like my heart. My breaths were ragged as I struggled against the vice-like grip the guard had over my hands and mouth, muffling my cries for help. Distantly, I could hear the other guard's words of encouragement.

I could feel the wetness of my tears against my cheeks, seeping into my skin. I shook with fear as I felt him tear at my clothing. Hash laughter grated on my ears. Terror slipped under my skin like a snake, curling around my chest and squeezing the air out of me. I thrashed and struggled with all my energy, but to no avail. I couldn't see through the tears that blanketed my eyes and slipped down my cheeks, only seeing a flash of red, a dull metal glint. My back burned with scratches as I flailed, my motions only digging deeper grooves into my flesh. I screamed into the man's hand, but his monstrous laugh was the only response. I felt something rip, and then cool air hit my stomach. Revulsion made me retch as I felt something slimy and cool touch my stomach.

A feeling of helplessness overtook me. It was all encompassing, like a darkness that clung to my mind. The guard's hand moved downward, and I threw myself away from him, into the wall. I bucked against his grip, but my trembling legs wouldn't support me anymore. I slipped downward, feeling pain shoot up the ripped skin of my back as the rough stone tore at my injuries. My left arm hung at my side, too painful to move from the arena, and I batted at the hand of my attacker with my right. He laughed again, and his hand moved down to my pelvis, fingernails leaving red grooves in my flesh. And then this unknown man's fingers were between my legs, in the most private place in my body. Pain lanced through me, and I fought the urge to throw up my breakfast. I felt them move, and I screamed into his hand.

Anger and fear and helplessness and disgust bubbled up in my stomach. In a last ditch effort to hurt this man, this monster, who was touching me in ways that was supposed to be happy -- beautiful, even, I jerked my body out at him, fingers curled into claws.

My fingers dug into something soft and pain lanced across my right shin. A grunt left his mouth and suddenly I was falling. I collapsed onto the ground, head spinning and stomach revolting.

Anger filled me, so completely that I felt ready to burst. My foot landed in his gut and then I was stumbling to my feet. A feral growl left my lips, eyes narrowed, the remains of my clothes hanging off of me.

The first man bounced off the wall with a dull thud, slipping down to lay still on the ground. Next went the man who touched me. A kick to the side sent him too reeling into the wall with a smack. This man had taken one thing that was truly mine. My next kick hit his stomach, and he fell to the side. Tears streamed down my face as I kicked him, again and again. By now he wasn't moving. But still I kicked, muscles screaming from overuse, body trembling. Anger fueled my energy.

Finally, I stumbled back. Hand pressed over my mouth, I glanced at his bruised and beaten body. I turned away in revulsion, and stumbled back to my room.

No amount of scrubbing could get the feel of his fingers off me. His laugh rang through my mind, on a sick repeat. Water dipped off me, but I didn't care. I collapsed on my bed, body wracked with shivers.

I didn't want this body anymore. It was tarnished, used, ruined. It wasn't mine anymore, it would always carry the memory of the man who did this. It was wrong, and I didn't want it. I wanted it off me.

I could still feel his hand between my legs, the all encompassing helplessness and terror. I squeezed my eyes shut and scraped at my thighs. Wherever he had touched, it seemed to spread. I had to get it off. My movements grew desperate. A silent sob escaped my throat as I tore at my skin. Tears slid down my cheeks and plopped onto the hard bed. I felt blood begin to trickle down my stomach, my arms, my breasts. It wouldn't come off though, like I wanted it to. I was disgusted, with myself, with my body, with what I had done. I wanted to take off my body, throw it in the fire. This one wasn't clean anymore.

Through tears, I looked at my hands. Beneath my fingernails lay slivers of my own flesh. Blood coated my fingers, and ran down to my knuckles. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled into myself. I felt a drop of blood run down my arm, and I almost laughed. Blood mixed with tears. Metal and salt.

Blood and tears. Blood and tears. Blood and tears.

I fell asleep with the taste of horror on my tongue and smell of disgust on my skin.

A/N:

This was really hard for me to write, however it is necessary for the plot I have in mind. I have no experience with this theme, however I have heard heartbreaking stories. 

If anything I wrote is offensive or incorrect, please comment and I will fix it immediately.

~TheBookDragonet (Formerly UI)

PS: Random Fact: not all gladiators in Ancient Roman times were slaves! On a rare occasion, upper class members of the empire chose to fight because it would bring them fame and loads of money.