Forgiving (PG-13)
Just a little vignette set in a post POW first-contact story.
Trigger Warning for discussion of sexual assault.
* * *
“Why... are you... helping us?” the male, Sandor, asked. He spoke slowly and carefully, the warm gutturals of Rolas' language sounding tortured in his throat, but without the aid of his device. “You aren't... scared.. of us? Like... others?”
They learn quickly, these humans, Rolas thought.
“I am scared of you,” he replied, “You're ugly, and huge, and hairless. It disgusts me to even look at you. And your device. Some of the images in it were horrifying.”
Sandor and the female human, Miri, exchanged a look at this. Then she answered. “They horrify us too. Our history... very hurt... very much blood.” She gave one of their odd, stiff shrugs. “We do not forget. Must not forget. We do better. Mostly.”
“So why help us?” Sandor asked again.
“Because,” Rolas said. “I know I am wrong.” At their puzzled looks, he continued. “There is a... place... nation. Other Foxen nation. Once my nation's enemy. We had a war. I was a soldier. I was captured by them. Hurt by them. To get information.” He scratched his head, shamefaced. “Like we did to you.”
They both did that odd little affirmative head dip. “So you helped us.... because you were a prisoner too?”
“No.” Rolas scratched his muzzle. “When I was a prisoner I was made to.... I don't know if you have the word. To be forced.... to have sex... when you don't want to. So it hurts you.”
“Rape,” Miri answered. And Rolas found himself very disturbed to think that for such a complicated and painful concept, they had such short, direct word for it. We do better. Mostly.
“Rape. Yes. I was a raped, by our enemy. The Gerwarts.” He looked away from the two humans briefly. “I hated them for that. Hated that they made feel dirty. I hated all of them. For a very long time I hated all of them. But... I knew I could not hate them. Not hate all of them. Some of them had hurt me. Not all of them. To hate all of them was wrong. And the ones that did hurt me, I had to learn to forgive. Or the pain... would be in my head forever.
“So I... can be scared of you. But I can't be scared of all of you. That is the mistake my friend made, when he helped put you in that place. He's scared of what all of you might do to us. And he is making mistakes because of being scared. Mistakes that hurt you.” Rolas sighed. “Does that make sense?”
Another pair of little head dips. “Yes,” Sandor said. He reached out to touch Rolas' shoulder briefly. “And we don't hate all Foxen. Or are scared of all Foxen. Just some.”
“Some scare me too,” Rolas agreed.
Trigger Warning for discussion of sexual assault.
* * *
“Why... are you... helping us?” the male, Sandor, asked. He spoke slowly and carefully, the warm gutturals of Rolas' language sounding tortured in his throat, but without the aid of his device. “You aren't... scared.. of us? Like... others?”
They learn quickly, these humans, Rolas thought.
“I am scared of you,” he replied, “You're ugly, and huge, and hairless. It disgusts me to even look at you. And your device. Some of the images in it were horrifying.”
Sandor and the female human, Miri, exchanged a look at this. Then she answered. “They horrify us too. Our history... very hurt... very much blood.” She gave one of their odd, stiff shrugs. “We do not forget. Must not forget. We do better. Mostly.”
“So why help us?” Sandor asked again.
“Because,” Rolas said. “I know I am wrong.” At their puzzled looks, he continued. “There is a... place... nation. Other Foxen nation. Once my nation's enemy. We had a war. I was a soldier. I was captured by them. Hurt by them. To get information.” He scratched his head, shamefaced. “Like we did to you.”
They both did that odd little affirmative head dip. “So you helped us.... because you were a prisoner too?”
“No.” Rolas scratched his muzzle. “When I was a prisoner I was made to.... I don't know if you have the word. To be forced.... to have sex... when you don't want to. So it hurts you.”
“Rape,” Miri answered. And Rolas found himself very disturbed to think that for such a complicated and painful concept, they had such short, direct word for it. We do better. Mostly.
“Rape. Yes. I was a raped, by our enemy. The Gerwarts.” He looked away from the two humans briefly. “I hated them for that. Hated that they made feel dirty. I hated all of them. For a very long time I hated all of them. But... I knew I could not hate them. Not hate all of them. Some of them had hurt me. Not all of them. To hate all of them was wrong. And the ones that did hurt me, I had to learn to forgive. Or the pain... would be in my head forever.
“So I... can be scared of you. But I can't be scared of all of you. That is the mistake my friend made, when he helped put you in that place. He's scared of what all of you might do to us. And he is making mistakes because of being scared. Mistakes that hurt you.” Rolas sighed. “Does that make sense?”
Another pair of little head dips. “Yes,” Sandor said. He reached out to touch Rolas' shoulder briefly. “And we don't hate all Foxen. Or are scared of all Foxen. Just some.”
“Some scare me too,” Rolas agreed.