Scattered Aurora

The girl catatonically moved towards the mirror in the room. Raised her eyes and stared at the reflection. Tear-glistened eyes gazed past me. But I see the horror reflected in those eyes, the pain in those tears. The image brushes my mind and memory flashbacked. Wounds ripped open and agony let loose. The soul recoiled from the horrifying terror of the memory and the mind tries to scuttle back to ignorance but conscience pushes the thoughts back. I shut my eyes tight in a failed attempt to banish the images from my memory. So tight my eyes ache, so tight I see flashy-colored rings, so tight my eyes seemed to be pushed back to their socket. But still not enough to vanquish the painful horror of that one moment. Defeated, I open my dead eyes and look around seeing nothing. My glance flies around the room not resting on anything but still searching for something, anything that would distract me from facing the terror of that truth again. The memories rush back to the front and I desperately try to keep them at bay. They play themselves over and over again and force me to sink into the repulsive horror of those minutes. I close my eyes and the girl appears. Scared, I open my eyes and the girl becomes clearer. More ghosts emerge and echoes of that scene materialize in front of me. Then the faces turn towards me, they laugh at me and mock me for my mortal weakness. I try to shut them out but the charade continues in my mind. I try to run away but how can I escape from the madness of my mind. The voices grow louder; the laughter more mocking. I clap hands over my ears and force the laughter to fade away. I close my eyes again but the horror of those images engulf me again as the scene is superimposed on my mind. Finally my anguish finds an outlet. The rage inside builds into fury and the pain breaks down all the barriers. I let the waves of anger crash over me and carry me away in their drift. The wrath takes control and the mocking faces vanish. But as the anger subsides, helplessness and despair coupled with disgust and shock, reign over my mind. Disgust at what man will do to prove his ultimate power and control. Disgust at how he will misuse the power and authority in such repulsive ways. And helplessness that I can not do anything about it; that perhaps I will be as helpless as that poor victim in the same situation. Dread lingers. The tears stream down my face as I once more picture the screen of horrifying, terror-stricken memories and rememember my friend sitting on my side with her face in her hands, sobbing softly, as she too witnessed the stark horror of that time. The anathema of that evil act is embedded in my mind and with it the chilling terror remains... perhaps forever.


Today we saw a documentary made by the US soldiers in Iraq, and this part of the movie was filmed surreptiously by one of the soldiers. This post is in response to the horror we had to see of an Iraqi girl being raped by drunk soldiers.