Gitta's Vigil

Gitta sat on the edge of the wall, looking out at the desert. It was very pretty at night, a view she had seen before, though not the same desert. She remembered it clearly, back before she had ended up here. In another world she had been a soldier, a proud descendant of a long family line of soldiers, her father had been a general, her grandfather a war hero, her parents were so proud when she joined the military as a commissioned officer. She had gone to school for engineering and her expertise was required in war time, she mostly worked maintaining vehicles. She had agreed to be shipped out to a posting in the middle east where she would help maintain vehicles and also once they had learned that she had also had heavy training in sharpshooting from her uncle, she also doubled as guard duty.

One night while working as a guard her life had ended. He had been an ally. She didn't know him very well, but he came up to see her one night, supposedly just to keep her company. He was a Major and she was an officer cadet, so she couldn't really turn him away, besides at the time she had no reason too. He seemed nice enough.

They talked as she watched the desert and then he moved behind her, she felt his hips press against her from behind and she froze. His hands slid up her body and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them roughly through her uniform and bra. She had told him to stop, but he didn't and when she tried to turn on him he **** her so she was bent over the edge of the wall. Looking down at the sands far below, her heart pumped hard in her chest, the only thing keeping her from an undoubtedly lethal drop was the hands of her attacker playing with her breasts, her gun had already fallen and the sound of it hitting the rocky desert below only made her more frightened.

She begged as she felt him grinding against her from behind, but he only responded with a gentle shushing noise before he released her breast and began to tug down her pants. Panic gripped her. He was about to **** her and there was nothing she could do about it. If she tried to call for help or fight back he'd probably drop her and she'd fall to her ****. Gitta remembered the sickening feeling as his cock pushed into her dry cunt, how it made her want to throw up and how much it hurt, how she hated the vertigo as she was **** to look down, dizzied by the height, made worse by the gross feeling of her violation. She did in fact throw up when his disgusting seed filled her.

Once he was done he pulled her back from the ledge and pulled up her pants. She remembered being unwilling to move as he handled her like a doll, feeling helpless... inhuman. He told her not to tell anyone and then left. She was left on that wall, feeling his seed leaking out of her, staining her panties. She felt herself crying and the thought had occurred to her that she should just jump from the wall. **** might have been preferable.

Hatred is what kept her going. She didn't listen and the first thing she did was tell everyone about what happened. She felt... mildly vindicated when he was brought to trial and charged, it turned out she hadn't been his only victim, he had victimized many women, soldiers and civilians. Whatever happened to him wouldn't be enough, nothing would actually undo what he had done. The night after the trial she was at home thinking about her life, she still felt awful, inhuman, worthless. She was already in a terrible mental state when the call came.

It was a number she didn't recognize and she knew she shouldn't have answered it. It turned out to be a friend of his, one who was mad at her, she couldn't believe they were mad... at her for what he did. They made all sorts of threats over the phone, insulted her and after they hung up she went to her bathroom and ended her life.

She didn't remember anything from the moment consciousness left her in that bathtub and waking up naked in the desert. She had been found by a woman, the woman had provided her with clothes to her specifications and helped her build her weapons, she told her she had been given another chance and that she would be given the opportunity to get vengeance, proper vengeance on the man who had ruined her life. She had been then guided to the followers of Melanoche and told not to tell anyone where she had come from or that she had met the women, the women being Melanoche herself. Since then Gitta had simply served Melanoche waiting for the opportunity she had been promised.

She sighs and reaches a hand up rubbing tears from her eyes and looks back out at the desert. In the distance she can see the enemy army approaching. It was time to alert the others. She slips backwards off the edge of the wall and idly wonders whether she's so comfortable with heights now, because she still sees falling from that wall to her **** as the better outcome.

She sounds the alarm while at the same time she pictures him in her mind. Every time she kills someone now she thinks of him and hopes that if Melanoche was telling the truth someday it will be him.