Partners, Parents, Uncles, and Aunts

A young woman, not old enough to be called so but treated as one, settles as comfortably as she can on the hard pavement of what she assumes can only be a basement. Mold wafts towards her nose and the ground presents a small dampness. She can hear people speak from above, but not loud enough to translate the unknown language.

She moved her hands to stand, but she was stopped by metal around her arms. She tugged once more but the metal was securely strapped to what she felt was a pole. She moved her legs to feel the area around her, her hope to feel a weapon or another useful tool strong, but she found only the pavement. Her heart began to race at the realness of her state and she wanted to run and run away from here, as far as she could get. Her breath came faster, and tears tracked down her cheeks through the polyester that covered her eyes.

The footsteps from above shuffled closer to the door that lead to the basement, and her heart stopped for a moment. She paused, and lent an ear towards them once more, but all talk had stopped. The door opened and she moved away from them as two sets of feet walked down the steps.

"She's awake." A man spoke. He sounded rough and not at all gentle or good.

"Good." Another spoke, and he was much more calm, composed you could say. He could may well help her... but the words he spoke negated the goodness she hoped he had.

"Why have you taken me?" She asked. The footsteps shuffled closer and she would've became the wall granted that she could've.

"Well, you see..." The calm one spoke, "You're a pretty lass, and you'll fetch a pleasant amount of money on the market."

Whatever other words he spoke were drowned out by her own fear. Of course she knew about the market; every "lass" knew just so they could take the proper steps to ensure they never got... sold.

How could she have gotten on the wrong half of the street? Hadn't she been on the lookout for such danger? She was sure she hadn't done any one act wrong.

"Please..." She begged. "Please don't let me suffer that fate."

"Sorry, lassy." The rough one spoke, and she thought he shrugged by the tone he used; there was no remorse at all.

She felt hands grab her by the arms and she attempted to move away but he already had her, and she hadn't even heard them move.

"Please!" She yelled, no one but the men who trapped her there to hear her screams.

Somewhere else, far away from where the young woman lays, an older woman weeps on a bed, as she can't do much else. She hurts everywhere; her heart, her eyes, her throat, her bottom.

Chatter reaches her ears from the next room over, and she curls even closer to herself as though she wasn't as close as can be already. She hears steady laughter and wonders what can be so funny when someone suffers so close. Do they care at all? Does regret not tear them apart?

She breathes deeply, only to lessen the heavy burden she holds, one that was placed on her by others. She compares herself to the man Zeus sentenced to roll a rock up a slope forever. Contrary to that man though, she feels she has been sentenced for an act she never played.

The door from the next room opens, and promptly, she tenses. Footsteps walk closer to her room, and for a moment, she hopes they go past.

But that asks too much of God. The door opens and she opposes and challenges them as much as she can, but she knows naught comes from her conduct; they do what they want to anyway. All to get a momentary release of pleasure that amounts to zero.

Monsters made from our own development wander the earth. Call them beasts, demons, or the boogeyman; all paths they walk are the same. They walk towards you escorted by an assured look, some smug, others full of leer, but most are courteous. The worst of them all.

They adorn masks of others, the standard unfortunately, but... they seem to mold almost better than the humans themselves, as though they feel the to overcompensate to cover the gross schemes they carry out surrounded by the darkness.

Adolescents are seasoned from a young age to beware monsters every day they leave the house. They may follow them home from the park or try to coerce them to do an act they never wanted to perform.

Or, these monsters would do smaller, much more abandonable acts just to set them on edge, just to make them recall that they are actually not safe and should not get crazy thoughts that they are.

A small touch on the bottom, or a small graze on the shoulder, a too frank query; all acts that no one accepts as on purpose. On the other hand, there are acts the masses have accepted and choose to behave consequently rather than to address the foul conduct.

A cat-call can not be flattery when a cat-call only presents unwanted perusal. A beam comes off as creepy when the stare lasts too long. And an offer of help can not be help when the subject gets pushed too hard.

Answers to the problems these monsters cause have been bestowed upon the masses, but to repay the favor, they have worked up ways around these answers. One could be the utmost prepared but regardless fall prey.

What are they to do? How are they to battle such beasts?

Shall they take to the streets and shout and shove posters up the monster's noses? Shall they report monsters they uncover not only to law enforcement, but to the masses as well? Acts such as these urge them to lay low, at least, and just maybe, prevent them from the shameful acts they perform.

But. Oneness can oppose them. The people must come together as long as they want the demons to go away and never come back. Because, anger breeds more anger, and that's a powerful tool when used correctly.

No one can force them, though.

So, the real query becomes: how long shall they take?