In Chapter Two, Dworkin raises some intricate issues as she evades the word "rape" by substituting it with darkness.  In the beginning, she uses the metaphor of darkness to demonstrate rape's omnipresence in Andrea's life and to show how rape is fundamentally embedded within her social constructs. The graphic, and frequent, personification of darkness as "ramming up from behind" (Dworkin 29) and "fell forward on your knees pushed by the dark from behind" (30) obviously classifies this entity as powerful, destructive, and inescapable. Dworkin's use of this metaphor strikes me as puzzling because darkness implies covering the truth of the rape and the identity perpetrator, as well as euphemizing the violence of this sexual violation. Rather than plainly stating rape as rape, she covers the true nature in a shroud of vagueness and disguise. Perhaps Dworkin intends to illustrate the routine nature of rape in Andrea's life, or how frequent rape leaves the victim desensitized and immune to the violence. After graphic images of "jagged bone" (30) and "giant parasite" (30) associated with darkness, Dworkin oddly characterizes darkness as "it was safe really, a playpen" (31). This abrupt shift imitates the uncertainty and instability of Andrea's emotional state as she struggles between denial, disgust, and acceptance of this seemingly inevitable event. Andrea attempts to come to terms with rape by downplaying its destructive nature and transfiguring it as paradoxically "okay" with her.

            Dworkin then indicates that writing serves as an outlet to turn this ugly darkness into something beautiful and artistic, inspired by Andrea's frequent trips to Greenwich Village. There, "they make beauty from the dark" (32); a principle Andrea employs in her out life as she "sings" (33) during the literal act of rape, rather than fights. Andrea begins to see dark as "hard but now it had a sound in it, a bittersweet lyric, music carried on the edge of a broken line" (33). These juxtaposed images of contradictions pairing violence with beauty illustrates Andrea's attempt to use rape as artistic inspiration. Since she feels helpless in changing her situation, she seems to surrender to this reality and resolve to "make the best of the situation." Since she finds no acceptance from her mother, father, or religion, she uses sex as a tool to belong within the Bohemian society, using her poetry as therapy to cope with this horrific event. Psychologically, writing allows her to escape both the figurative darkness of rape as well as the confines of her suffocating household. Her pen is the way to obtain freedom, "not locked up" (34). Although she continually confronts rapes, she shuts out the violation through her artistic "sing[ing]" (34), representative of her writing, in order to survive. In this way, Mercy as a whole can be classified as trauma literature, or the way in which victims communicate their experiences with oppression, in order to psychologically cope and come to terms with the uncontrollable series of events that dictate he/she's life. Andrea, as author and character, writes this novel and implied poetry as a means of self-preservation. As indicated in the first two chapters, her mother and father refuse to accept the reality of rape by "t[earing] up all your things" (34) or denying that "anything happened" (27), leaving her voiceless to the people who should care the most about her and to a society as a whole of gender inequity. Ultimately, her bold artistic statement defies her societally dictated role as mute as she claims her voice and her rape as a legitimate reality.