Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Eleven: Blades of Memory
Kurti had no reason to fear anyone from the troupe. They were all Romani together. One fire was pretty much the same as another and there was a passing chance that someone might have a new story. To his mind, there was no difference between the Heirelgart Romani, and the Statleindorf Romani.
Even though one group welcomed Centaurs amongst them, and the other did not.
Thus Kurti, age four, walked hand in hand with a complete stranger into the path of harm.
The old lady, said Jakob, was very lonely, and wanted somebody to help her keep her bed warm and make her happy. Kurti could understand that. His two baby sisters always loved to hug up against him in the winter. But it was summer. He’d said as much to Jakob.
“Lonliness can make you as cold as winter,” he’d said. “So does age. Your bones suck in heat and give nothing back. Even in summer, you can shiver.”
Kurti felt sorry for the old lady who wanted to borrow him for the night. Then he saw her.
That face would eventually etch itself into his brain and strike fear into his heart, but this was the first time he saw her. She wasn’t that old, really. Certainly not much older than Mama or Papa. Definitely younger than Jakob.
Her smile wasn’t quite nice. There was something about it that was a little bit wrong. Just like Jakob’s smile. It wasn’t quite - warm.
“Here he is Frau. Die Fleidertuefel. Yours for one night.”
The Lady handed Jakob a bundle of Marks.
“*Whoah*!” Kurti blurted. “That’s a lot of money!”
Jakob knelt and put an arm around his shoulder. “That’s right, lad. You just keep this lady happy for one night, and *all* this money gets to help feed the whole tribe.”
Kurti thought. It was a lot of money for one night. But then, they were both pretty large tribes. And it *had* been a hard winter… “I'll do my best,” he said. “I promise.”
“*Good* boy. And you know to keep this our little secret, eh? You might get into trouble because your parents think you ran off on them, yes?”
Everyone knew that Kurti would never run away from his family. He was lucky to have one at all. “I - guess…” he allowed. “I’ll keep it a secret anyway.” He stood as straight as he could, and saluted the Lady. "Good day, Frau. I guess I’m ready. What do I call you?“
The Lady smiled as she picked him up. That funny wrong-smile again. "You can call me ‘Frau Hess’, my demon.”
Kurti, unaware of the danger she represented, cuddled up to her. “Am I warm enough for you, Frau Hess?”
She laughed and stroked his fur. “Oh yes, dear. Plenty warm.”
It was going to be the night that changed his mind about people. This was the first predator he had met.
The more time he spent with Frau Hess, the more wrong things got. He tried to be nice, and friendly, but that wasn’t what Frau Hess wanted; the nicer he was, the more she frowned.
“Come now, little devil,” she cooed as she took his shirt off for him. "There’s no need for lies. You can be yourself with me.“
He was starting to feel very wrong about the way she was touching him, but he sat still like a good boy and let her smooth his fur down. "But I *am* being myself, Frau. I don’t know any other way to be.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to do things that your parents said were bad?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever wanted to be naughty?”
They were sitting on the edge of a big bed, almost as big as his room at home in Heirelgart. Kurti tried to think. “Do you mean like taking cookies before dinnertime? Or jumping on the bed?”
Hess’ eyes narrowed a little. “*Something* like jumping on the bed, perhaps…” She took off her own shirt and Kurti got to see the underthings he’d only ever seen in their entirety on washing lines, before.
“Oh,” he whispered. “*That’s* what they’re for.”
Hess grinned. “You can touch, if you want to. Don’t be afraid. Explore what you see, love. *Be* curious.”
There was something wrong about this, too. Kurti couldn’t put his finger on it, but the Lady said it was all right. And Jakob had said all he had to do was make her happy…
He reached forward and fiddled with the straps. “Mama’s have little clips here,” he said conversationally. “She makes it come apart to feed the baby.”
“Yeah?” That very wrong smile again. “Would you show me?”
“On you? Like –” he swallowed, fighting a blush. “–*I’m* a baby?”
Hess nodded. She took the shoulder strap down her arm and freed her breast. “It would make me very happy,” she said.
Kurt felt the blush heating his face. This was wrong in so many ways, but his tribe was depending on him. All he had to do was make the Lady happy.
He hoped it would end soon.
It didn’t.
*
He did, eventually, keep her warm that night. His bare back pressed against her naked front, and her arm pinning him against her.
He was so scared.
Too scared to really sleep.
Kurti had tried, *really* tried, but he was so afraid of what Hess would want him for next, or where he’d have to touch, or where she'd touch him. Some of it felt kind of nice, if only for a little while, but Kurti knew that it was wrong.
If something like this *never* happened again, Kurti would be a very happy boy.
Afraid to accidentally wake Hess, Kurti dared not make a single noise, so he wept with both hands pressed over his mouth, and tried to keep his shivering to a minimum.
He wanted to go *home*.
He wanted Mama.
*
Morning was stranger than the evening. She washed him, dried him, brushed him, even fed him until his tummy threatened to pop. But what she *said* while she was being so nice to him disturbed him more than anything she’d done before.
Good boys didn’t tell lies. Especially lies about how she’d treated him last night. And if she found out that he told *one* little thing about her, then she would find him, and make him watch everything and everyone he ever loved going up in smoke.
Kurti shuddered, and didn’t doubt her for an instant.
She neglected him on the way back to the circus, for which Kurti was preternaturally glad. He didn’t think he could stand Hess touching him, any more.
She gave him back to Jakob, who instantly dropped Kurti to the ground as if he were a bag of chaff. Then she went weird again.
“Here, love. A little present for last night. You read it, and learn from it, and we’ll have better fun, next time.”
“Er,” said Kurti. “Thank you?”
“Unwrap it when you’re alone.”
“Okay.”
“Run along.”
Kurt bolted for his family’s trailer, the present clutched tight in his arms. He didn’t stop until he was safely underneath. Only then, did the usual childhood avarice surface and Kurti investigated his gift.
Bright wrapping paper tore to reveal a picture book. It was full of people doing things that Hess had wanted him to do last night.
There were words on the cover, that he’d learn to read later on, when Hess had been preying on him for a little over a year.
Karma Sutra.
*
“There you are! We were so worried!”
“Papa…” Kurti ran to him, and clung to a leg like a limpet.
Mama knelt to brush his hair. “Ach, my poor little boy. Did you get lost?”
Kurti thought about that. He’d certainly *felt* lost… He nodded.
“Were you scared?”
More vigorous nodding.
“Did you find someone who looked after you?”
Another technical yes. Looked after, sure. Cared for, no.
“Well, it’s all right now, love. Mama and Papa are right here. Katja and Anja missed you. Want to say 'hello’ to them again?”
Kurti smiled and transferred his death-grip hug to Mama.
“Ach! You *did* miss me… It’s all right. The big scare’s over with, sweetie. We’re here for you now.”
And they carried him inside and put him on his bunk bed - right on top of the book’s hiding place - and put his baby sisters in with him and everything started feeling *right* again.
Hess was just a bad dream. And it was all over.
Or so he thought at the time.
*
There was worse to come. By the time he was six, he *knew* Tantric Yoga. He was also thoroughly fractured. There were other predators, but most of them only rented him for a few nights.
Hess was a regular predator, and every time, she wanted more.
Every time, it got worse.
Hess was the one that wanted the Monsters, that made them into twisted, sorrowful creatures made of nothing but hate and spite. And the Monsters usually didn’t live for long, either.
Hess was Death.
Hess was pain.
And in the end, something made them fight back. To make her go away. All Kurt could remember was a bathroom tile and the smell of bad blood… A fragment of something so *evil* that the Archivist kept it away from everyone.
_You will not see that, sir,_ the Archivist told Xavier. _That secret is mine, and mine alone._
_Why?_ Xavier whispered.
_It is the one memory I had to take away *during* the Bad Times. I had to. To stop them from Killing._