To Speak Their Tongue

I woke up sometime later to find myself blindfolded with my arms tied together.

'They're gonna kill you. It's over. All your futile struggling, just to die again. Hilarious.'

I could feel a slender hand wrap itself around my arm, pulling me forward. I begrudgingly walked on as I was led forward by the strangers grip. We must've walked at least a few miles before we stopped moving. All around me voices whispered out in foreign tongues, my already peaked anxiousness began to bubble over as the blindfold was removed from my eyes. In front of me stood a small group of people dressed in pure white clothes. They all had various flowers woven into jewelry around their necks, save for one girl, the one who I'd already caught a glimpse of, who was dressed in all black. The three women all had vines braided into their hair, whereas the men all donned some kind of dye across their faces. Each one of them had elegant looking spears in their hands, sharp and bejeweled. The largest of the men looked at me and whispered something I didn't understand. I tried to explain my situation, but in all honesty even without the obvious language barrier I don't think they'd believe me. A naked dude appears from nowhere in the middle of a forest? Yeah, no explaining that. The girl dressed in black slowly began to approach me. The rest of the group lunged forward, as if trying to stop her from getting close, but the girl raised her right hand, halting them in place. Apparently this girl was their leader, or, at least was respected enough to have others follow her orders. She had golden tanned skin and a scowl. Her ruby red eyes seemed to be trying to pierce me; her blank stare communicating more than any words could. Her black robes covered all but her face, further accentuating the air of mystery about her.

She tentatively reached a slender hand out and touched my chest, my face grew hot at the contact.

[Do you wish to harm us?]

I jumped back in shock. She spoke to me, but her lips didn't move at all. She obviously didn't speak English if she couldn't understand me before. So how?! Did she speak into my mind?! The very thought of something like that being possible made my mind reel. I began to attempt to respond, but she again raised her right hand, this time to me. I paused. The girl reached out, grabbed my hand and slowly brought it to her chest. I blushed heavier, but she seemed unfazed. She nodded at me, as if trying to get me to do something obvious. My palms began to sweat. I began to speak aloud but was hit in the head by the dull end of a spear. The man that hit me shook his head side to side vigorously, then tapped the side of his head with two fingers.

[I don't understand.] I thought to myself.

I attempted to free my arm when the girl tightened her grip on my wrist and pushed my hand harder into her chest and nodded.

'Do you feel that? The smooth valley of her chest? It's soft, isn't it? It's smooth, isn't it? Do you think this is how he felt with you?'

I shook my head side to side vigorously and squirmed. A putrid sense of dread seemed to boil in my stomach. The girl tilted her head to the side and loosened her grip on my arm, but still kept my hand on her chest. She seemed taken aback, but seemed to steal her resolve as she extended her other hand and pushed it to my own chest. My skin felt like a thousand ants were spread across its surface. I wanted to back away but the dreadful glare of the spear wielding man froze me in place.

[Do you wish to harm us?]

I think I was beginning to see how this worked, agonizingly uncomfortable as it was.

[No, I- no, of course not. I don't know where I am, and you definitely won't believe me if I told you how I got here. How come we can't understand each other out loud but can in my head?]

The girl didn't respond any more after that. She removed my hand from her chest, and hers from my own. Before I could even process what was happening I was hit by something on the back of my head, and then I blacked out.

I woke up with my head pulsating for the second time since I'd entered this world. I attempted to stand up but found myself tied to the post of the bed. I gently padded the soft linens as the fog of sleepiness began to lift from my senses. "How did I get here?" I turned and saw a petite girl seated at my side. I didn't notice her presence at all until I saw her sitting there, quiet and still. She had a sort of eerie air about her that made the hair on my neck stand up. The girl got up as soon as I made eye contact with her and stood over me. Up close, I could make out more of her features in the dark room. She had vibrant green eyes and a smile that made me uneasy. Short brown hair cascaded over her face. She had flashy golden earrings that reached down past her neck. She almost seemed like a ghost, pale skinned with transparent features. She reached out and touched my left arm.

[Black roses.]

I heard her voice whisper into my head. Her smile grew wider as she whispered something out loud that I didn't understand. She swayed her hair out of her eyes and got into bed with me. I froze.

"W-what are you talking about?! P-please don't touch me I-"

All of my words fell to silence as I remembered the language barrier that obstructed me before. Tears began to flow down my face.

'Careful now Ryne, Uncle John might get jealous.'

The girl curiously turned her head at the sight of me crying. She then got an inch from my face and licked the tears off my face. I lost it- any semblance of restraint or composure I had left dissipated as soon as she stuck out her tongue. I began to flail and scream out, if someone heard me from outside the room they'd probably think I was being tortured; and I was.

'What's next Ry?! Is she gonna force herself on you too! Everyone can do whatever they want, right?! God forbid you fucking fight back, right?! God forbid you fucking stand up for yourself! You feel that pounding in your chest, champ?! You feel that agonizing kick drum racking against your ribs?! What will you do about it?! Huh?! Anything at all?! Or are you such a coward that you–'

The girl sat up on my chest and held my arms down, even in my panicked stupor I was shocked by how strong she was. She continued to hold me down and rested her head on my chest.

[Please do not be afraid, I just want to talk to you and this is the only way I can.]

I still attempted to flail about but I was firmly pinned down by my captor. I tried to remember my coping techniques and decided to try some deep breathing. I watched as the girl slowly rose and fell on the surface of my chest. Dark green waves radiated from her body as she stroked the side of my face. Surprisingly, after a few minutes I was able to get myself somewhat calmed, the voices in my head going silent despite my situation unchanging.

[Are you calm now?]

[Y-yes, I am. Can you please get off of-]

[No. I'm afraid until you learn how to speak with us properly this will be our only form of communication.]

I twitched and sighed.

[Can you teach me how to speak your language?]

I didn't care that she was my captor. I didn't care that I didn't know where I was. I didn't care that I was alone or afraid. I just wanted to do whatever I could to not have her touch me.

[You don't want to know who I am? Or where you are? Or how I can communicate with you like this?]

[No. I just want to not be touched. And if you have to touch me to speak with me, I have to learn how to speak your language if I wanna get you to stop.]

The girl swiftly got up and off of me in one fluid motion. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone tied to the bed. For the first time in what seemed like ages, I exhaled a sigh of relief.

Some time passed. I had no way of telling just how much, but it seemed like at least a couple of days had gone by. I always hated being alone with myself. My mind always drifts to bad places. I'd think about my family and how I disappointed them, or how miserable I was. It's a cruel kind of irony really, I can't stand physical contact and have crippling social anxiety, but on the other hand, I can't stand being alone. I never could, even before my lines were crossed. I could hear various conversations on the other side of the wall, words I couldn't understand spewed throughout my brain, throwing me deeper into my worry.

'They're talking about you Ryne. They're probably planning on how to get rid of you, after all, what could they want with someone as worthless as you.'

I sat up in the bed and gently pulled at the hair on each side of my head. "They're back." I quietly whispered to myself as I rocked back and forth on my knees. All of a sudden the door to my room swung open, ripping me from my thoughts. It was a man I recognized from earlier, the one who hit me with the dull end of his spear. He held weird looking books in his hands and sat down at the foot of my bed. Three other men followed quickly behind through the small doorway. The first two carried large woven baskets with contents blocked from my view. They placed them next to the seated man and quickly left the room. The third carried a tray with a piece of bread and a glass of water. He placed the tray on my lap and then turned to leave as well. My attention turned to the seated man as he stood up and began rifling through the contents of the first basket. He pulled out some kind of fruit, showed it to me, and placed it at the foot of my bed. He then picked up one of the books and flipped through the pages. He bent the page he was looking for and then handed me the book. In it was a drawn photo of the fruit the man had shown me, with a handwritten word underneath. Thankfully the letters resembled greatly to the English alphabet I already knew, so I attempted to sound it out aloud. The man nodded at me, took the book back, and returned to rifling through the basket. On top of my long list of faults I also have ADHD, which of course only ever affects me when I need to focus on something important. After a few hours of the man teaching me, I began to quickly lose my ability to stay on task. I'd try to stay focused on the picture but my eyes just couldn't keep from looking away. At the walls, the bed, the robes of the strangers, anything and everything that wasn't what I needed to think about. The man quickly realized I was no longer paying attention. Instead of scolding me or simply leaving me be, the man pulled a small rope from one of the baskets and started walking towards me.

'Ah, there it is! Good old fashioned hanging! A bit outdated but it will work just fine for filth like you.'

I began to attempt to protest but was stopped short as the man unlocked the binding on my wrist, freeing me from its hold. He then swiftly tied the rope around my wrist in its place. The man tugged me forward, and I was forced to my feet. I attempted to cover myself in a futile attempt to preserve some dignity but quickly gave into the situation. The man continued on, leading me out of my room. He led me to a small room that appeared to be some kind of greenhouse. It was hot and humid, and I quickly found myself becoming thankful for my lack of clothing. The man let go of my makeshift leash and stood at the entry to the room, silent and stoic. I spotted something that appeared to look like tissue paper in the corner of the room, next to a large hole dug in the ground. I begrudgingly connected the dots as my ailing bladder began to come to the forefront of my mind. I looked at the hole, then to the man over and over again, hoping he would at least turn away so I could have some privacy. Unsurprisingly the man stayed in place, emotionless as ever. I sighed and accepted my circumstances, my face burning red from embarrassment. After I finished, the man led me back to the room, removing the rope from my wrist and reattaching me to the bed. From that point on, every few hours the other men would come back to my room to repeat the same process. They'd swap out the baskets and books I had learned from and replace them with new ones, they'd bring more bread and water, or they'd take me to relieve myself. In between sessions, I chose to sleep. Oddly enough, despite the circumstances I didn't have any trouble falling or staying asleep. My being tied to it aside, the comfort of the bed I was in was unlike anything I had ever felt. The blankets were soft and inviting and the pillows were firm and cool. It was like being wrapped up in a cocoon of comfort, and it felt even better against my bare skin. Every time I closed my eyes I'd find myself drifting to sleep within seconds.

One day, I woke up with the same large man standing over me. I was surprised to find myself unwavered by his looming form shadowing me in the small room. If this was my old life, I would've been panicked for sure, but now, it was almost my normal. He turned and sat at the foot of my bed once more, continuing his instruction as he previously had. Time and time again the man taught me countless words. Eventually those words turned to phrases, and later those phrases turned to complete sentences. After countless months of learning I was finally able to communicate with my 'captors'. It was an accomplishment, I think. I learned a whole new language, at least, well enough to speak it. I should be proud, right?

'What do you have to be proud of? This means nothing. They'll still kill you once they find out that there is no worth in anything you say.'

The man, seemingly satisfied with my newfound understanding of his language, nodded toward me one final time, then turned to leave. "T-thank you. I don't even know your name and you did all this for me. My name's Ryne, can I have your name?" It felt odd to thank the same person who had me tied up, but I still felt it necessary. Plus, it was crazy to think we'd spent all these hours together without even knowing each other's names. All those lessons on manners and refinement my mother drilled into me when I was a kid came back to the forefront of my mind. I sighed as the bittersweet memories flooded me.

'She was always hurting since He died, wasn't she? Remind me, what did you do again?'

…

'She's probably just as broken as you now.'

The man paused for a moment with his back turned to me.

"Grine." He answered, his voice gruff and scratchy. He opened the door and swiftly left, the door closing behind him with a thud.