Summary: She's just a poor, orphan girl. He's her worst nightmare, a cruel, sadistic soldier that oppresses her village. Then the unimaginable happens: the war blocks the two of them in the same house.
Warning: It will contain violence and other graphic scenes. Might turn it into an M fic later.
…
The girl dreamily searched the sky, her eyes drifting from the vast expanse of blue above right down to open green fields of the countryside in front of her. She loved that feeling. The fresh, soothing feeling of watching the azure sky, its calming effect on her tightened chest, on her febrile mind.
She had longed for quite a while for that. For the past years the sky had only been gray and sad, covered in thick veils of dark clouds. Covered in bullets and sparks and planes that crashed into each other, falling after that on the dry field, reddened from too much violence, from too much war, from too much pain.
The war. She couldn't even remember when it had started. She couldn't even remember the time before it. She had been so small that the only beautiful memories from her short life were vague, distant, barely recognizable.
She couldn't remember her father, she had only felt his cold lips on her forehead when he had left for the last time. He had left to throw himself into the tumult of the battle, but not before wiping her small tears with his thumbs and promising her that he would return.
He promised her he would be back. She remembered his lips forming those words, even though she couldn't clearly remember his features.
All she knew was that he had been an honest man, a man who knew what he had to do in life. She had always looked up to him, but, unfortunately, she hadn't managed to be like him after all.
She had involuntarily taken most traits from her mother. The long, red hair. The silence. The constant precaution. To her gratefulness, she had taken one of the most important things from him.
Altruism. In that aspect, she was almost sure she wasn't like mother.
Her chest panged at the memories as it always did, memories assaulting her of green grass and oak trees and beautiful afternoons, spent in her father's company. Lowering her eyes, her gaze rested on the small, red flower she had attached to the front of her dirty, old dress.
A flower just like the one her father had given her ten years ago, when she had seen him for the last time.
The girl closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.
She loved days like that one. In those moments she could almost forget the constant presence of the soldiers that took over their small village. Those soldiers who constantly gave orders, beat up the local residents for making the smallest mistakes, who mocked and spit on them, laughing cruelly and quenching their thirst of violence.
Those soldiers who wore dark green uniforms, who stared at her with hungry, savage eyes.
Her mother always warned her about them. She told her to be careful, she told her to run away as fast as possible if she found herself alone with one of those soldiers, in an unknown place. Even though nothing was unknown to her anymore in that village. She knew every small corner, every bit of it, so she couldn't get lost even if she tried to.
She heard stories about women who were abused, about women who were raped during times of war, because the soldiers were deprived of ways to fulfill their horrendous instincts and they didn't find any better choices.
The women were even killed sometimes or they just died alone, in their own misery and pain, their bodies worn out, damaged.
She remembered how traumatized she had been after she had found out about those stories.
They lived in poverty, in suffering and no one was able to help them. She remembered other countries that had sent helping forces, but the foreign soldiers that took over their country were too many. Too strong. An endless source of oppression. They couldn't get rid of them even if they turned the entire country against them.
They were like animals and preys.
The girl stood up and brushed the dirt off her dress as she threw one last look at the wide, green field, at the lonely oak tree that rose there, in the middle of it. She lifted her face and let the warm sunlight scrape her pallid skin, before she opened her brown eyes and took everything in, letting the view imprint itself in her mind.
She knew that was one of the rare occasions when she could actually enjoy the beauty of the nature. One of the days when soldiers didn't burst through her cottage's door and brought her wounded people, threatening to beat her and her mother if they didn't heal them.
Her eyes skimmed over an old, demolished, burnt military car on the side of the road. She averted her gaze and stared ahead, trying not to look again as she passed it. Other times it was painful for her to see such things, but that day was so bright and warm that not even sights like those could take away her high spirit.
She walked down the dirt track until she entered the village and passed near people. Near miserable people, with sunken cheeks and tired eyes, with bruises and marks all over them. There were a few who were still untouched– she was one of them-, but she was aware that it was only a matter of time before she received her first punishment from the soldiers.
As she ran up to the small house, she was suddenly hit by screams and yells from the inside which made her stomach churn viciously. Her skin went cold, as her heart skipped faster in fear for the worst.
The girl bolted inside to be greeted by a sight that made her a little sick to her stomach.
Her mother's red hair flowed down her waist as she stood with her back to her, leaning over the long, wooden table that she used to lay injured people on, when she treated them. She couldn't clearly see who was lying on the table, but she knew for sure that the woman who had screamed earlier was the one her mother was treating in that moment.
The girl carefully approached the table to notice dirty, pink hair and blood.
Too much blood.
Then she could clearly distinguish the hurt woman. It was one of her friends' mother. From what she could tell, the woman had been hit in the head many times because she had a large gash that spread from her temple to the top of her forehead. She had some long, bleeding cuts, too, but the gash was the worst.
The girl stared at the woman for a few moments, trembling, before her mother suddenly noticed her there and turned towards her, frowning.
"Why are you standing there, Flaky?" Her mother reprimanded her. "Help me with this!" She stretched her arm and grabbed hers, dragging her towards the table.
Her mother gave her a tourniquet and instructed her to apply it on the pink-haired woman's gash and put pressure on it. Flaky did as she was told. She silently waited for her mother as she rummaged through the small cupboards, looking for some sort of chemical substance, while the woman on the table cried in pain, still delirious in a state of unconsciousness, which made Flaky turn her head in disdain.
"Those bastards did it again." Her mother spoke, her voice weak and ragged, barely audible. "They beat her almost to death."
Tremors shook Flaky's entire body, crawling under her cold skin. She felt the sting in her chest become stronger and stronger, as if a needle pierced through her, a needle filled with fear, anger and sorrow. She knew she shouldn't be surprised after all the calamities the soldiers had committed, but she couldn't help herself.
She couldn't understand how someone could be so cruel, so inhuman.
After a few minutes, her mother turned to her and wiped the sweat off her forehead, breathing heavily and looking at the patient with some sort of vague hopelessness in her eyes. She lifted her eyes towards Flaky.
"Go to the medicinal store. We're out of disinfectants."
Flaky blinked at her, a little taken aback, as her mother furrowed her brow in impatience.
"Go now!" She snapped. "Or she'll die!" She curled her mouth in frustration and Flaky nodded fervently, before she bolted outside.
She felt dizzy for a few moments, stumbling and stuttering over even the smallest pebbles, before she managed to gather herself and stand properly on her own legs. She stared ahead at the crowded village and walked forward, desperately pushing people aside as she tried to create her way through them as fast as possible.
She mumbled apologies when some of them threw her offended looks, even though she tried to ignore most of them as she ran on her trembling legs, breathless and scared.
A strong hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and stopped her in her tracks.
Flaky gave a short yelp when someone's fingers dug into her skin so hard that she thought it was going to bleed.
Her legs gave up under her before she fell on the dirty ground with tears in her eyes from the excruciating pain. The one who had grabbed her wrist tightened his firm grip and laughed satisfied when she gave another scream.
Flaky barely managed to open her teary eyes and look up at a tall, intimidating soldier. He didn't appear to be much older than her, but his hypnotizing, feral stare was so powerful that she thought he was going to kill her right there on the spot. His expression was the most frightening she had ever seen on a soldier.
And she had seen many.
"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry, you little snitch." He smirked down at her as his terrifying stare bore into her. Even through the darkness of the night that started falling over the village, she could clearly see his weird, light green eyes. He appeared savage, almost insane. Flaky wouldn't be too surprised if he actually was insane. In fact, she would be surprised if any of those soldiers was normal.
"P-please, s-sir." She muttered desperate. "I-I h-have to help s-someone."
His smirk turned into a grin as he kept staring down at her, pleased with the fact that she was at his feet, begging and silently crying. He pressed his fingers into her thin wrist so hard that it bent at an unnatural angle, making her scream in physical pain again.
Flaky squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled pleads under her breath, but he kept holding her wrist. He just laughed again.
She almost saw what was coming next.
A hard, rough beating, a whipping until she passed out or even the worst: a bullet straight through her head. The tears fell on her cheeks like small rivers, as the pain overwhelmed her completely, draining her of the little life force that she was left with.
To her surprise, the soldier brought her hand back to its natural position and pulled her up by it, until she was back on her feet again. She staggered for a few moments, since her legs were numb from exhaustion, but she managed to regain her balance after all.
Flaky slowly opened her eyes and gazed up at the cruel soldier. She waited for him to punish her, she waited for a slap, a kick, anything, but he just looked down at her intently. Flaky felt her breath come faster as she gazed back. It felt like he was looking through her. His eyes were the greenest thing Flaky had ever seen.
She couldn't believe that behind those eyes, something so…monstrous was hiding.
"I can do anything I want to you right now." He spoke slowly. He brought his hand up and drew it over her cheek, making her squint in fear. Then he cupped her chin with his fingers and lifted it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I can just break through your skin and into your eyes, dig up into them until it remains nothing but two black holes."
She stared in horror at him, through glassy eyes, filled with tears, while the contents of her stomach swayed, threatening to come out. She was so struck by his horrid words that she believed she was going to throw up from all the emotions that flowed through her veins.
He was unimaginable. Absolutely murderous. Insane. In that moment, she was convinced he was the worst possible kind of human being that existed out there.
His other hand released her wrist and Flaky believed for a moment he was going to let her go, but his hand slowly descended to caress her side, then her hip, until it reached the front of her dress, right below her bellybutton. She closed her eyes hard and bit her lip, waiting for him to do what her mother had warned her so many times, even though he stopped.
"I can abuse you right here. Where everyone is able to see us." He lowly spoke next to her ear. He lightly passed his fingers over that spot and Flaky thought her head was going to implode from the blood that rushed to her face. No one had ever done anything like that to her, in her entire life. The experience was strange, perplexing, almost unbearable.
The girl gave small whimpers and he laughed, satisfied with her reactions.
The soldier suddenly set her free, before he pushed her and Flaky squeaked when she fell to the ground for the second time. Dust rose around her from the collision and she coughed. She tried to recover for a moment or two, before she raised her head to see him staring in disgust at her.
"You're pathetic." He curled his mouth downwards as Flaky stared at him, wide-eyed. "Just leave before I kill you."
She looked up at him petrified, before she quietly rose on her feet. She was aware she was about to burst into serious cries, but she abstained herself. She didn't want to cry in front of him because he would probably punish or even murder her if she did it.
She backed away a few steps, still careful and cautious, then turned and started walking at a quick pace. Even when she probably got out of his sight, she still felt that burning stare on her skin, those mad, piercing eyes digging holes into her.
She was so traumatized and shaken that she stopped for a moment and leant on a dirty wall that belonged to an old, small house, wildly shaking. People stared at her weirdly as they passed, but none bothered to even get close to her. In fact, they avoided her, as if she was plagued.
Flaky weakly wiped her tears with her stained, ragged sleeve as she tried to come to her senses. That woman was dying and she needed her. It was already enough that she had lost plenty of time. She wasn't going to delay it anymore. It had been selfish of her to forget about the woman and think only about her own misery.
She gathered herself and struggled to reach the medicinal store. No one was there because people didn't have money to buy anything. Her mother had resources just because she was the town's healer, but that was all. If she did anything else with the money she'd received from the soldiers, they would execute her immediately.
Flaky got what was necessary and quickly returned. On the way back she didn't run anymore because she didn't want to attract attention and be stopped by another soldier.
After what seemed like hours, she was finally able to see the small cottage far away and sighed in relief.
But it didn't last. Screams and cries filled the air and she jumped startled. She turned her head and noticed that many people gathered and crammed into each other as they struggled to see what was going on in the main square, right in the center of the village.
Flaky remained in the same spot and stared at the crowd from a considerable distance. The screams started becoming excruciating, terrifying and she almost covered her ears with her palms.
She didn't need to do it anymore because several gunshots resonated through the air and made those screams stop.
And then she realized that the soldiers murdered. Again. They tortured those people who had screamed, before they put their guns to their heads and shot them.
Flaky shivered and she turned in a hurry, wanting to get rid of those horrendous images and sounds.
The pink haired woman was paler than ever and Flaky realized she had lost a lot of blood. She feared that it was already too late, but her mother rapidly put the disinfectant on a clean, new tourniquet and stuck it to the gash, before she tied it to the woman's head.
Then she noticed another presence in the room. A younger version of the woman, the same age as Flaky, if not slightly older, stood up from a nearby chair and approached the woman.
Giggles was one of her best friends. She was a girl that she could trust into. Flaky was also a little envious of the pink-haired girl, because she had never seen her cry. Giggles was always strong and down-to-earth, even in the most maddening situations. Even then, in that moment that threatened her mother's life, Giggles' features were unstained and dry. She had a somber, almost unreadable expression, but no sign of tears in her eyes. Just a really pallid face and dark-blue circles under her tired eyes.
The girl stared at the near-to-death woman on the wooden table for a few moments then raised her eyes towards Flaky.
"When will it be over? When?" She inquired in a fade voice. None of them said anything anymore.
There was no answer to that question. No answer that they could form, anyway.