Act I
Scene i

Kegyvesztettség / Fall From Grace

Blood. She could smell it, feel it running down her forehead, sticking to her brow and sliding down her nose. Her mossy green eyes were glazed with pain and confusion, dazed as she was from the blow to her temple. She could hear the chaos around her, the shouts and screams of men and women around her. The sound of gunfire, the blast of artillery shells in the distance. The shouts of the Russian and Ukrainian invaders. War had finally come to her beloved Budapest, her last stronghold against the Soviet forces. War had come. And she and her people had lost.

The soldiers of the Red Army dragged her with them, laughing and talking in Russian. She couldn't understand them. She didn't want to. She only wanted to be free from their grasps, from their alcohol-scented breath. She was too weak. Her vain attempts at a struggle only served to make the men laugh more. Slowly, she gave up, and allowed the invaders to carry her body like a ragdoll.

She was dragged up the stairs, passing locked doors where she heard the sick sound of flesh upon flesh, women and girls alike crying out. She heard them so easily, each one piercing to her very heart. Their vain cries to Szent Szûz (1). Their futile pleas to her, their country, their protector. They deplored their captors, trying to get them to stop. To have some decency. Some humanity. Of course they wouldn't stop. They were men, receiving their spoils of war. They were men, that couldn't understand her or her people, and had no qualms in violating the maidens of her land. Her blood boiled, and she struggled once more, breaking the grip of one of the men. The other detained her with ease.

The room that awaited her was small and dimly lit. The windows had been covered with thick cloth, letting light only peek through the cracks. No candles were burning. No bulbs were illuminated in the lamps she could see through the darkness. Not that it mattered. Electricity probably wasn't running in the building, the siege having taken most of the power out of the city. The men shoved her into the room, closing and locking the door behind her, leaving her to wait. She curled up, trying to ignore the screams from the streets and the screams from the rooms. The slow, dying, powerless screams.

She did not know how long she waited for someone to drag her out of that hell. For someone to enter it, for her to strangle and bloody and attempt one last stand against. Heavy footfalls sounded outside of her door, the old floorboards of the creaking under the weight of the man. She heard the rattle of the key in the lock, the whine of the hinges as it swung open. And there he stood, his violent violet eyes shining with the embers of bloodlust. His platinum hair was matted with blood, his gloved hand wiping at his face, smearing the red liquid off of his cheek. His jacket, his shirt, his gloves, his boots. All reeked with blood. The blood of her people.

"Vengriya (2)," He smiled, closing the door behind him. She cringed, not liking the sound of her name in his language. "You have fallen to me, Vengriya." He taunted her. His voice, so childlike, so calm and sweet, was marred by the undercurrent of madness. She already felt herself backing away. She gulped, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat. Trying to get her eyes to remain hard, to show no fear.

"I haven't fallen to you yet. I could still have one last-" He had back her into a corner, his amythest eyes glowing dangerously as he placed his arms on either side of her, pinning her between the cracking walls of the room. A sadistic smile creeped across his face, and she felt her breath hitch in her lungs, her heart almost stopping in her chest.

"No, you will not." He growled, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You belong to me now." He pulled her close, pushing her to the floor. She swung her leg out, trying to connect it with his thigh. He caught her ankle, pulling her leg roughly to her right. He kneeled down between her legs, and she reached up, clawing at his face. Three bright red gashes marred his face, thin droplets of blood pooling on his pale skin. He slammed her wrist down, hard, pressing her hand back with such force she was scared he'd break it. "Do not make this any more difficult for you than it needs to be, suka (3)." He spat, all gentleness in his voice gone. "You belong to ME." He pressed harder, and she could feel the strain in her wrist reaching breaking point. "You answer to ME." Her wrist snapped and she cried out in pain.

"I control you." He whispered, leaning close to her face. She could smell the vodka on his breath. He was just as drunk as the men who brought her here. She glared at him, her green eyes defiant, ignoring the tears that fell from the corners of her, tracing lines down her face. He pulled the glove off her left hand, chuckling at the simple golden band still perched upon her finger. "So. The rumors were true. You still wear his ring on your finger." Roughly, he pulled it off her hand, tossing it into the shadows without a second thought. "Too bad you are no longer his." He chuckled, pressing into her palm again with much force. Her wrist broke easily.

"Let me go." She hissed through clenched teeth, tears still stinging at her eyes. "Let me go! Fight me like a man!" This was humiliating. Perhaps that was the point. He was showing her that he was dominant. That she would be punished if she defied him. That she didn't stand a chance against the vast power known as him. She suddenly felt his thumbs against her vocal cords, pressing and making her gag.

"You talk far too much, did you know that, Vengriya?" He laughed, pressing harder against her throat. He pushed her head back and forth, the base of her skull slamming into the wood until she bled. She could only see stars, could only see darkness. Her senses were dulled, her body limp and unmoving. Immobilized.

She barely felt him pull the zipper of her pants down, the cool air brushing against her naked skin. She tried to think of a happier time, her eyes squeezing shut as the sound of a zipper echoed in her ears. A green field filled with small white flowers. Two young children, one blonde, one brunette, playing their childhood games. The warm glow of the sun upon her skin.

She could feel his body, pressed against hers, the pain in her abdomen as he violated her. Her eyes squeezed tighter as she tried to suppress her screams. Her husband, playing the piano, a beautiful waltz emanating from the ivory keys. She focused on the phantom music, trying to drown out the sickening sound of flesh upon flesh.

He finally let her go once he was spent, leaving her half naked and half unconscious on the floor. His footsteps echoed against her brain, and she could hear him talking to someone just outside the door. Hungarian, for her benefit. That bastard…

"Please clean her up, sister, so we can bring her home." That cursed, child-like tone rang in her ears as she faded into black. Budapest was lost. She had been thrown into hell. "Welcome to the Soviet Union, Vengriya…"

Historical notes:

The Siege of Budapest (December 29, 1944- February 13, 1945) was Hungary's last major stand against the Red Army at the end of WWII. It was one of the bloodiest sieges of WWII. The result was 419,082-470,082 deaths, injuries, missing, or sick on both sides. 40,000 civilians perished in the conflict. An estimated 50,000 women, Hungarian civilians, were raped during the siege. Hungarian girls were kidnapped and taken to Red Army quarters, where they were imprisoned, repeatedly raped, and sometimes murdered.

Language notes:

Title: Шах И Мат - Checkmate. Russian.

1. Szent Szûz - Blessed Virgin. Hungarian

2. Vengriya- Hungary. Russian

3. Suka – Bitch. Russian.

Author's notes:

First off, let me say, writing this piece was extremely difficult. I do /not/ enjoy writing about rape. I do not enjoy writing about violence. But this idea burrowed itself into my brain and WOULD NOT LET GO.

Thus, I felt compelled to write about how Hungary fell into the Soviet Union's clutches.
Now. If you don't mind, I need to go get some mind soap and go throw up from this story.

EDIT: I will /not/ be deleting this story. In fact, it will be expanding. My friend Puffi The Insane (.net/~puffitheinsane), will be co-writing this story with me. We will take turns with each chapter, or 'scene', until the story has been told. My chapters will focus on Hungary, her's will focus on Ukraine.
If you have any further questions, please message me.