She snuck up the stairs into the formal dining room where well-dressed couples littered the tables. "Here!" She pulled on the arm of her companion, leading him to a table that had been abandoned momentarily, the food plates still atop the linen. "Just sit down and try to blend in. Eat some lunch." She continued to glance around cautiously, observing all of the laughing and smiling faces that surrounded her, seeking out any that were highly suspicious. She didn't dare try to relax, knowing the moment she let her guard down, they would be there. Then suddenly, they were. "Scheiße," she mumbled, turning back to the table and leaning in close to her companion. "Smile big and laugh, but not obnoxiously loud."

"What?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and plastered a huge smile on her face. "How's the food? Just imagine the faces of the people that were sitting here when they decide to come back." She laughed aloud, a staged sound to those that knew her well enough, but he bought it. Her companion began to chuckle along with her. She fought with herself to not turn around to see where their followers were.

"Well, sir," he said through a grin, mocking the situation of the returning couple in a pompous voice. "You did leave this quite unattended, so I do say it really was ours for the taking." It wasn't really that funny, but she played along and laughed with him once more.

"Sie genießen Ihr Mittagessen?"1

They looked up in unison toward the blonde woman standing above them, a large sledgehammer in her hands. "Not the face I was expecting," her companion managed to say before she pushed his seat backwards out of the way. She barely managed to stumble away from the table when it was smashed by Ilsa's large hammer. She didn't see where her companion had run off to, but she couldn't hear his screams, so took that as a good sign that he was running and had not been captured. Or he could have been killed already.

Resisting the urge to look back, she forced herself to keep running, up the steps onto the elegant balcony, to the left through the empty dance room, into another hallway and through a door that contained stairs. She couldn't hear footsteps aside from her own, and that bothered her. Where the hell were they?

She reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed open the door. A tall, looming figure was standing there, partially blocking the bright sunlight, Katar knives on hand. "Scheiße," she said softly. The hand was too quick for her to see, and she welcomed the darkness as it enveloped her.

…

She awoke on her own terms - that was good, at least - unsure of how much later it was. She was tied to a chair, though, the coarse ropes rubbing painfully against the delicate skin of her wrists and ankles, strapped around her torso like a belt. As she slept, her head had lolled onto her chest, her neck now aching terribly. She didn't even open her eyes, wanting to prolong the worst moments she was sure to experience, as she lifted her head; she groaned quietly at the dull aching it produced in some parts of her body and the delicious relief it offered in others. Then she opened her eyes.

It was a simple, bare room with a light shade of beige carpet and painted white frames. The direction of light came from behind her, possibly an uncurtained window; the shade of light suggested that it was early morning. There was a short hallway in the direction that she was facing, a closed white door at the end of it. Perhaps a bedroom. Two other doors sat on either side of the first; the one to the left was probably a supply closet as it sat over a set of stairs, the one to the right probably a bathroom. Now that she thought about it, she really did need to pee. She tried crossing her legs rather unsuccessfully, bare thighs pressing together. Bare? She glanced down at herself for the first time since she had awoken; she was no longer wearing her clothes of simple black jeans and white t-shirt. She was now wearing what appeared to be an oversized cotton shirt, much like a nightdress of sorts that very much resembled an intact hospital gown. Oh god. She could only imagine what they must have done to her while she was unconscious. She felt nothing aside from the natural aches caused by her positioning, so perhaps they had not done anything too terrible to her. Yet.

She shook her head slightly, as if trying to clear her head before she continued to look around. To her left, a large room that resembled a den which trailed off into a small hallway behind the bathroom, probably leading into another bedroom. There was a window situated in the wall, but it was covered by blinds so she couldn't see outside. No doubt that had been done on purpose; cover the windows she would be able to see out of, but leave the unseen uncovered to provide her light. Arschlöcher.

To the right of her was a small room, part of it contained by white railing that overlooked the stairs. There was a lowered slope in the ceiling that rested just beside her before it heightened again in the small room. There was a window on the same wall as that behind her, but it was also covered with blinds. There was something sitting on the carpeted floor that was covered by a dark blue cloth tarp; she could see wires trailing from beneath the tarp, disappearing just as they went past the railing.

So this was where her captors had brought her? It seemed too...simple. Too much of a charade, like they were pretending to be some sort of happy family. She groaned inwardly at the very idea. It must have been hell trying to live with each other here.

The door in front of her opened and the blonde-haired woman walked out, shutting the door behind herself. "Guten Morgen."

"Morgen," she replied automatically. At least her time of day was correct.

"Haben Sie gut geschlafen?"2

She merely glared in response, refusing to answer such a ridiculous question.

"Sie bevorzugen Englisch?3 Have you forgotten your native tongue so easily?"

"Nein. Ich verstehe Sie gut.4 I just refuse to answer such ridiculous, sarcastic questions coming from a Hure such as yourself."

The slap wasn't so much hard as it was forceful; it thrust her head to the side, only causing a harsh cringe in her neck and a blood blister on the inside of her cheek where she had accidentally bitten herself. When the blonde had stepped back, she began to laugh softly. "Is that all you've got?" She turned her glare upon Ilsa once more. "Armselig." The second slap was more of a punch that contained far more force behind it. Her chair actually toppled over this time; she was pretty sure that a bruise was going form on the right side of her jaw now, not to mention the carpet burn on her opposite cheek and arm.

"Each time you make an insult, you will be punished for it."

"Is that so?" She began to laugh more loudly. "You're going to punish me by slapping me around because you're too psychologically weak to take a little insult? Tell me, how is it that you managed to get to your rank with that kind of attitude?"

Ilsa shoved the chair over so she was now lying on her back. A heavy heel was pressed against her chest as a gun barrel was pointed into her face. "I should kill you right now," the blonde said quietly.

She grinned. "Is that the best you can do, klein Hündin?"

Ilsa cocked the gun, finger hovering over the trigger.

"That is enough, Ilsa." Grigori Rasputin had emerged unnoticed from the bedroom he shared with Ilsa. "You cannot kill her without disrupting our plans. She will be dead soon enough."

Ilsa lowered her weapon and returned it to its holster; she stepped heavily on her chest before finally stepping away, gravitating closer to Grigori's side.

"Hallo, Grigori," she said wryly. "Wie geht es Ihnen? Sie lebendig und gut aussehen."5

Grigori did not respond to her; he didn't so much as look at her as she spoke. He merely turned toward the device that was covered beneath the tarp and began to read from the book he held in his hands. Ilsa trailed after him, staying close by his side and awaiting any further commands.

"Are you a lost puppy, Ilsa?" The woman seemingly ignored her, but no matter. "As I said before, pathetic. Are you craving his attention so much that you can't give him room enough to breathe? Does he not satisfy you enough in the bedroom that you have to bring it to work?"

Ilsa turned sharply, took two large steps and swung a hard kick at her side, forcing the chair to roll over; it was a hard enough kick to elicit a soft whimper of pain from her. "Wagen Sie es nicht – "6

"- Ilsa!" The woman stepped away from her, retreating to her Master's side once more, silent and brooding.

She didn't try for another comment just yet; that kick had knocked the fight out of her momentarily. From her position on the floor, she could now see out of the window. Not that there was much to see; the skies were somewhat cloudy and gray, though they began to brighten more by the minute. She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally taking note of the pain throughout her body; there weren't many of the minor wounds, but they still hurt. Taking a deep breath, she began her taunts again. "I think you only bruised a couple of ribs, Ilsa. None of them feel brok-."

Her eyes shot open as her chair was being lifted upright and turned away from the window again. It wasn't until he had walked in front of her that she could see who it had been. Any remaining sarcastic taunts died on her tongue as she stared up at the tall, looming figure, the one whom had been waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She knew who he was, of course. Running into him and being knocked out was one thing, but being as conscious as she was now while in his presence did nothing to help her situation.

"Ah, Kroenen," Ilsa had turned to investigate why her prisoner had suddenly become silent. A devilish smirk now played across her lips; she knew that the tables had turned. "How nice of you to finally join us. Perhaps now this insufferable brat will learn to keep her mouth shut." She glared at her. "I don't know why you didn't just leave her on the floor."

She could hear Grigori pulling the tarp of whatever sort of device it had been hiding. She was curious to know what it was, but she never allowed her gaze to travel away from Kroenen. She wondered where he had come from and why had it taken him so long to present himself to the rest of them. Had he come from the other hallway that led out of side behind the bathroom? Now that she thought about it, she had never heard a door open. Had he been standing around the entire time, just out of sight, watching all of the events unfolding before him?

That last thought made her angry; the emotion must have shown on her face, perhaps through a narrowing of her eyes into a more hateful stare, because Kroenen, so keen upon continuing her staring contest, suddenly looked away. Now he was going to play bashful? Why had he even bothered to show up at the time he did, to set her chair upright as if to make her more comfortable?

"Check the connections." Grigori's words brought her out of her reverie and she finally looked in his direction. The device wasn't very large, but it was clear that a lot of work went into it. There was silver piping twisting every which way, creating a generally domed shape. There was some sort of purple substance in the very center of the device; the way it moved made it difficult to tell whether it was gas, liquid, or a mere trick of the eye.

Ilsa disappeared down the stairs, but judging from the sound of her footsteps, she didn't travel very far down. "They are secure!" she called back to Grigori, the official tone she had been trained to use controlling her dialect.

"Excellent." Grigori turned toward Kroenen as Ilsa came back up the stairs. "Untie her. It is time."

Kroenen stepped forward in her direction, hesitating just in front of her for a mere moment before moving behind her chair. He sliced through the ropes with ease, keeping a gentle but firm hold on one of her arms as he pulled the ties away from her body. She thought it rather unnecessary that he keep his hands on her; she wouldn't dare to try another escape whilst in such close proximity to him. She decided it would be best to voice these opinions aloud: "You don't have to keep a hold on me. I won't be running anywhere."

"My dear girl, I'm afraid I cannot trust your word when you say such things. Especially considering your last little escapade."

She frowned at Grigori. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to try to run when he's practically breathing down my neck? Last time, you left me completely alone. You've clearly learned your lesson since all three of you are in this tiny little room with me. You have nothing to worry about." Just make him stop touching me, she groaned inwardly.

Grigori was silent for a moment as if contemplating her words.

"Look, just tell me what you want from me, and I promise I won't run off. I'm here. All yours." She spread her arms out slightly to suggest offering herself to him, Kroenen tightening his grip on the one arm he held.

"You suggest very good points, indeed." Grigori looked past her toward Kroenen. "Very well. You may release her."

Kroenen didn't let go of her immediately, slowly slackening his grip on her over the course of the next few moments until his hold was loose enough for her to pull away from. She was not going to stand there and wait for him to have his fill of touching her skin through his gloves; she had more important things to be doing at this very moment.

"So what do I have to do?" she asked, stepping further away from Kroenen and closer to Grigori.

"You must stand on the designated stair, hold onto the railing on the right and place your hand against the wall on the left. You must stand there for two minutes, never moving your posture. Then…" He held his arm out behind her to direct her toward the top of the stairs, though he never physically touched her. "Then the time will come that I will no longer loathe to say your name nor look you in the eye. You will become something great and trustworthy."

"How so?" she looked down the stairs. Approximately four steps down from where she stood, there lay a plastic sheet over a non-carpeted stair, the silver coils visible just underneath in two separate places. She guessed those were the spaces where she was supposed to set her feet.

"I shall explain as we begin the process." He spread his arm in front of him, gesturing toward the plastic-covered coils. "Shall we?"

She walked down the few steps, placing her feet on top of the silver coils, grasping the railing with her right hand. She would not yet place her left hand against the wall as she had been directed. Instead, she turned to look up through the railing at the place where the main device stood. Ilsa was walking around it, pressing various buttons which caused the purple substance within to spin, slowly at first, then steadily faster.

"Your body will become a portal, my dear. That which was unsuccessful during previous attempts shall not fail when a live human host is available. You shall link our world with far better worlds; worlds that will bring glorious creatures here to reign."

"So…I'm a sacrifice. A sacrifice that will essentially be ripped apart by time and space so that creatures from some other universe will burst forth from my remains and ultimately destroy the world that we currently inhabit."

There was a moment of silence as Grigori looked at her oddly, Kroenen standing at the top of the stairs with his head tilted to the side. "Yes," Grigori finally answered.

"Alright. I suppose I can get behind that."

"We are ready, Master," Ilsa said, standing to Grigori's right.

"Excellent. Ready yourself."

She turned forward, glancing from the blank wall straight ahead down to the descending stairs before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

"Now," Grigori commanded.

She pressed her hand firmly against the wall. She wasn't sure what she should have been expecting, but the strong surge of pain was definitely not it. She had no idea what being electrocuted felt like, but she imagined it to be something quite like this. She was standing on coils hooked up to some form of electrical device, after all. Besides, wasn't it supposed to be incredibly painful to have one's small body ripped apart by space and time? She grit her teeth hard, her elbows and knees locking as she tried to stay as still as possible. But it was just too much. She gathered as much of her remaining energy that she could find and forced one foot off of the coils, quickly followed by the other as she stepped down onto the carpeted step below her. She had to catch herself against the railing so she wouldn't topple down to the ground level. She felt light-headed, her ears ringing, her vision blurry, heart racing, breathing ragged.

"What is she doing!?" she heard Ilsa hiss from someone far away.

It took her a moment to steady herself and recover her bearings. "I'm terribly sorry," she laughed weakly. "I was not expecting it to be that powerful."

"That is quite understandable," she could hear Grigori saying. "You may take a short moment to compose yourself before we proceed."

She nodded slowly, stepping down a few more steps so she could sit down and lean back without accidentally leaning against the coils. "How long was that?" she wondered aloud, uncertain that she really wanted to know the answer.

"Thirty-three seconds."

That wasn't too bad; it was just over a quarter of the time she was supposed to have stood there. "I'm guessing that I'll have to do those thirty-three seconds over again."

"Correct. It must be completed all at once."

Brilliant, she thought sarcastically. More brutal pain to endure before experiencing what was probably the most horrific death to – soon – exist. Unless…. She looked at the railing beside her, judging how much space there was between the top of it and the bottom of the second floor, which turned into the first floor's ceiling. She then looked between the bars to see how far down the ground level was from her current position, an idea forming in her mind.

"Well, then," she stood up and turned to look at the three above her, Ilsa and Grigori practically standing next to her, but a few feet up, Kroenen still standing at the top of the stairs, ever watchful but a safe distance away. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" She went back up the two stairs to stand on the coils once more, grasping the railing in her right hand, holding her left hand out but not quite touching the wall. She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Mind giving me a count of three?"

She could hear Ilsa's frustrated sigh. "Eins…"

She tightened her grip on the railing.

"Zwei…"

She bent her knees ever so slightly, putting more weight onto her right leg than the left.

"Drei!"

She jumped up, pulling herself over the railing and dropping onto the stairs several feet below.

"No!" she could hear Ilsa and Grigori shouting as she stumbled down the last two stairs and ran straight for the front door. Thankfully, it was unlocked, causing no further delay in her escape. Outside, she was greeted by a bright, albeit gray sky. The courtyard was large, though it looked dead and decayed. The dark beige bricks were uneven, some broken or missing to reveal the dirt underneath. There were what appeared to be koi ponds, several scattered out across the courtyard. As she ran by them, she could see that they had mostly dried up, the remains of fish lying in the mossy puddles and mud. Just beyond the courtyard, there was a dense forest.

Almost there, she urged herself on despite the sharpness in her lungs, the pain of her bruises, the weakening of her legs. She didn't have to look back to know that Kroenen was close behind her.

Suddenly, her knee gave out on her, causing her to short step. She tripped over the disheveled cobblestone next to one of the broken down ponds, and he was on top of her in an instant. He straddled her, wrapping his legs around her own, pressing his elbows against her upper arms, overpowering her weakened state so she would be unable to fight him off of her. They stayed like this for a moment, as if he were confirming that she would not try to escape from him. The mossy brick was cool and scratchy against her cheek, her vision limited to the broken pond beside them. Shifting her head slightly, she glanced down to see that there was an orange fish lying on the crumbled cobblestone where the wall had been broken down. She wondered how long it had been out of water, suffocating on air. It didn't smell too terribly fishy, so perhaps not very long.

Kroenen began to loosen his grip, just enough so he could roll her over onto her back before he resumed his positioning of holding her down. She stared up at him, past the black lenses into his barely visible blue eyes. "Kroenen," she whispered softly. Staring up at him, being in such close proximity, the deep set emotions began to stir, breaking loose from the bonds she had tried so desperately to keep them locked away in. "Kroenen, bitte," she murmured, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. The first drop slipped from the corner of her left eye, and in the back of her mind, she remembered what she had learned long ago: When a person cries and the first drop comes from the right eye, it's happiness. Left eye, pain. Both, frustration.

Kroenen tilted his head to the side as the tear disappeared into her hair; it was as if he were remembering the same thing. It had been he that had taught her, after all.

"Bitte," she said again, her voice weak and childish this time.

He looked her straight in the face again. "I must take you back." His voice was raspy and quiet from several years of being unused. It was amazing that he could still speak aloud at all. "You know that I must take you back."

She squeezed her eyes shut, expelling the moisture from both of them as she struggled not to sob aloud. How could he do this to her? After everything…. "Did you ever love me?" she asked, opening her eyes to gaze up at him once more.

He didn't answer.

"Of course not," she answered for him. "You have induratized yourself, especially to me." She reached her arm up between them, fingertips grazing the cool, smooth texture of his mask. "Can I ask just one thing of you before you take me back to them?" She knew there was no way out of this situation; she would ultimately be killed, either while trying to escape from him, or by being forced to become the portal that Grigori so desperately wanted to open. She figured that she deserved some form of dying wish before it was too late. Perhaps that would make it just a little less hard on herself.

Kroenen nodded ever so slightly in response to her question.

Slowly, cautiously, she began to move her other hand toward the back of his head. Her fingertips barely brushed against the clasps holding his mask in place before he abruptly caught her arm and pinned it against the ground. "Nicht," he said quietly, but the undertone of warning was made clear. "Sie wollen nicht, um zu sehen."7

"Ja, ich tun,"8 she argued in soft tones, grazing her free hand along the side of his mask toward the clasps. It was quickly pinned down just as her other hand had been.

"Nein!" he snapped loudly, deadly.

"Fein," she snapped daringly in return. "Küss mich." Without waiting for a response this time, she lifted her head up through the short distance that it took for her to press her lips against the place where the cool metal covered his own. It was far from a real kiss that she had desired, but her eyes fluttered closed nevertheless.

Kroenen stayed still and quiet for a moment while she did this, seemingly uneasy, uncertain. Then he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side as if he were imagining the kiss for what it was meant to be, envisioning what it must feel like to truly have his lips pressed against her own. Not that he had lips to feel such things anymore.

That thought made him pull back from her, the sudden movement and lack of contact causing her to open her eyes to gaze up at him. She tried to refrain from looking to questioning, too curious, too hurt.

"Wo sonst?"9 The question caught her slightly off guard, having not expected Kroenen to continue playing along with her dying wishes, especially after the act of the first.

She began to pull her hand away from Kroenen's grasp and he allowed her to. "Küss mich hier," she said softly, pointing to the spot just below her right knee that had been scratched up during her fall. He leaned away from her, kneeling over her legs that he had previously straddled. He put a hand behind her knee to bring her leg up closer to him as he gently pressed his mask against the indicated spot. His other hand crept along her other leg, clothed fingertips gentle as they grazed across her skin, sending shivers of delight up her spine.

"Was sonst?" He asked, tilting his head to look up at her face, searching for the answer before she said it aloud.

"Nimm mich."10

He had known this answer was coming, but had waited out of respect, tenderness. He did not wait another moment now. He let go of her knee in order to reach down to his trousers, to release one of the only parts of himself that remained human. The hand that had crept up her thigh now pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing the soft, pale skin beneath. There was no underwear to get in his way, a requirement for the ritual that Grigori had made quite clear. Kroenen had silently questioned it before, but now was quite grateful for the perverse condition.

The love he made to her was rough and brutal. It was merely the act of sex, containing the aggression he had carried with him for so many decades without any form of reprieve; not even the lives he had taken were able to satisfy him the way her body was able to, writhing beneath him, crying out in pain and pleasure all at once. The moment was upon him before he thought to question whether he should emit his seed inside of her or not. So he thrust himself up to the hilt inside of her, poisoning her with the very essence of himself.

Throughout the event of their sex, she had not once broken their established eye contact. She had blinked, of course, as normal humans had to do. But she had never purposely looked away or closed her eyes, ever watchful of the face that she could not see. Now, as she sought to catch her breath, her eyes were closed, shutting out the rest of the world around her.

He held himself above her, unmoving as he continued to pulse inside of her warmth, listening to her ragged breathing begin to slow. He took the opportunity to observe her; the rise and fall of her chest as her excitement steadied, the paleness of her skin losing its flushed color, her soft, reddened lips parted ever so slightly as if expecting the very thing he could not give her.

"Ich Sie einmal geliebt,"11 she said aloud after a few moments; the words were said so quietly and were met with such silence that she wondered if she had even said them. She opened her bright blue eyes to stare up at him, the slight tilt of his head signifying that he had, indeed, heard her words. "Hast du mich nicht lieben?"12

Kroenen kneeled away from her, gently pulling the gown to cover her nakedness before zipping up his own trousers. His gaze was focused on the forest ahead of them, refusing to meet those questioning eyes that sought answers he would never willingly be able to provide. "Sie müssen gehen."13

She sat up, eyebrow raised as she stared at him dubiously. "Entschuldigen - ?"

"Geh jetzt!" he demanded, grabbing the dagger from its sheathe at his shoulder and swinging at her. The movement was so quick that she barely managed to dodge it by rolling backwards. She jumped to her feet, standing just out of his reach. He continued to kneel, his arms now hanging limp at his sides, his head practically lying on his chest so she couldn't see the facial aspects of his mask at all. She had never seen him in such a weakened posture; it worried her so much that she nearly stepped forward to console him, despite the threat of the sharp blade in his hand.

"Sie müssen jetzt gehen," he said again, more quietly.

She finally understood: he was truly letting her go to freedom. This wasn't a game. He wasn't following orders. This was all Kroenen.

"Es ist eine kleine Stadt hinter des Waldes. Sie werden sicher dort für eine kurze Zeit sein. Die Dorfbewohner werden sich um Sie kümmern."14

Her mind was so preoccupied with still trying to catch up with this entire situation that she didn't notice him getting up until he was standing right in front of her. He pressed the handle of the dagger into her palm. "Zweifeln Sie nicht an, dass ich für Sie kommen."15 His gloved hand brushed against hers clenched around the dagger before he stepped away. "Godspeed."

She didn't wait another moment before she turned and ran straight for the trees.

…

Several days later, she was sitting in a coffee shop, obliviously staring out the window at a world that equally ignored her very existence.

"You seem lost," a gentle voice said from above her before taking the open seat on the other side of the table. The older man set a glass of coffee in front of her, being granted a small smile of thanks.

"I wouldn't say that. Things that are lost are very rarely found," she ignored the coffee in front of herself.

"Ah, but not when the founder seeks so desperately."

She puffed her cheeks out, expelling her air in an exasperated sigh. "Is there anything else that I can help you with? I'd really like to be going."

The older man's expression suddenly turned serious. "What you have been exposed to…. The amount of time you were exposed to it. Two minutes was supposed to be equivalent to two years of unbearable pain. You say you were merely exposed for a total of thirty-three seconds, yes?" She nodded silently. "Thus you were exposed to nearly seven months of that pain. There's no telling what kind of effects that will have on your body, mind, and soul over time. You may have been capable of handling the pain well, but that does not mean that you are completely safe. Many deadly things lie dormant for several decades before they decide to make themselves known."

She had taken to staring out of the window again, only half listening to what the old man was saying. He wasn't as helpful as she would have liked for him to be, though there was a small amount of information he had been able to provide her with. Just as he had finished speaking, her eyes caught sight of that familiar mask through the windows of a passing car.

"Danke, Herr Doktor!" She stood abruptly, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair and running outside quickly, following the direction that the car had gone. The traffic wasn't moving so quickly that she had lost sight of him, so she slowed her steps in order to keep a safe distance away. Plugging the headphones in her ears and sticking to the sidewalks, she followed after him, wondering if he had finally come for her as he had promised. If he had, she doubted that he would be driving right through the middle of town.

She shook her head as if to clear it, bringing herself back to the present situation only to realize that the traffic had come to a stop. She was only one car's length away from where he was and stopped herself in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes intently gazing at his figure. She watched the familiar head tilt, the all-too-familiar stillness, even as the flow began to steadily move again.

She had the feeling that he had seen her, even watched her for a few moments as she grew smaller and finally disappeared in the rearview, but refused to acknowledge her for who she was. She was to be left alone, forgotten once more. Perhaps that's a good thing, she mused. But her heart ached at the mere thought that she would no longer have him to turn to.

Translations

1: Enjoying your lunch?

2: Did you sleep well?

3: You prefer English?

4: No. I understand you well.

5: How are you? You look alive and well.

6: Don't you dare - .

7: You do not want to see.

8: Yes, I do.

9: Where else?

10: Take me.

11: I loved you once.

12: Did you not love me?

13: You must go.

14: There is a small town behind the forest. You will be safe there for a short time. The villagers will take care of you.

15: Do not doubt that I will come for you.