Back with another chapter, finally! I've been so busy with other projects that I couldn't go back to edit this story orz sorry about that. Next one should be the last update, and I'll mark this fic as complete yay!

Sorry for the adult themes but when it comes to Makarov... I can't really sugar coat anything. There's a reason why he was at the top of the list presented by the EU investigation panel, when the UN began looking into human's rights violations after the war, and he had to opt for discharge.


Laura627: Aww you logged in just to tell me that? You're really sweet I agree there is a lack of Vladimir fanfiction and... some of the stuff I read wasn't to my liking. Not to say people are bad authors, of course. They can have different opinions just like I have mine, but I'm glad you believe I'm on the right path concerning his characterization! Thank you for all the support. You're amazing ;D

Guest: Thank you! I'm glad you agree on my portrayal of Vladimir c:


Warnings:

Adult themes. Violence. Death. Sexual abuse. Coarse language. Gore. Unbetaed work. English is not my first language. Read at your own risk and don't tell me I didn't warn you.


Part VII

I wished I had died that day, but death never came.

As I attempted to wash the garment in my hands, I stifled the sobs that threatened to break me down again. My gaze fixed on the menial task at hand, I refused to try and find beauty in the world once more. Beauty meant nothing to me, then; all things fair and compassionate ceased to exist the very moment my dreams were torn to shreds without any mercy. I could feel them— the claws of that beast were still tearing me apart. His lips still hurt, poisoned me, and the echo of his voice in my head made my hairs stand on end with blood-chilling words.

When coldness grew too much to bear, and darkness sat eerily on my shoulders, I realized the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. I had remained here for so long, yet my grief couldn't be washed away by the waters and the ache in my body and soul lingered... a constant reminder of what had transpired hours ago. As soon as he had left I cried my eyes out, lamenting my loss, but I knew it was futile mourning for there was no way I could change anything.

It didn't mean I had to accept it. I felt dirty, used, wounded, guilty, angry, helpless, punished for whatever offense I had committed. I felt abandoned, forsook by those I loved, trying to fathom why it had to be this way. I asked the heavens why but no one answered me. No angels comforted me and I wondered if, by any chance, they were lost— if they too were scared and fled.

Though I had to return to the village, I dreaded what would happen when I did. I knew he would be waiting, knew that I would have to face my nightmares sooner or later. And the prospect was terrifying, bitter and full of regrets. My stomach churned, feeling the inevitable wave of nausea hit me brutally and I hurried to spew out, achieving a relative sense of relief even when a sour taste took over my mouth. It was short-lived, however, before I collapsed on the ground and curled in a ball, desirous to let the wild beasts devour my flesh so I could stop breathing— stop existing.

There was a time when I closed my eyes and dreamed of a better tomorrow. A time when I could pretend that everything was going to be alright. Now every second was a constant struggle of agony, and it felt as though I was going to breathe my last at any moment. It would have been the best thing that could have happened, in my current situation, but even God seemed to have forgotten about me.

I wished I could have seen my family for a last time.

At the lone remembrance of them, I sensed a rush of air forcing its way through my throat, nearly choking me. With panic, I sat up on the ground, wincing when my muscles screamed in protest. It had been all too soon, all too hustled, and it took me a moment to recover before I had the strength to get on my feet, gathering the pile of clothes that were never washed and the lone garment that still was soaked atop of a rock. Rinsing my mouth, I realized how thirsty I was but decided not to risk it with the unclean water that seemed to murmur a song of comfort for me.

As much as I feared to face Vladimir, I knew I couldn't stay in the woods forever. I had to return home sooner or later. It was my place in the world, after all, and even if monsters now lurked in the shadows I also knew that, one day, they would be gone. All bad things came to an end, in the long run, and I had to have hope even in the darkest of moments— hope that things would change and that I would still have the strength to endure, for the sake of those I loved. I had to live one more day; there was no way I could give up now that I had made it this far. What would my father think? What would he say if I surrendered now, unwilling to fight? This wasn't the day to die. This wasn't the day to relinquish.

There was always a time when silent suffering turned into strength and valor, building fortitude, preparing the path and shaping the fate of everyone. But where was mine? I couldn't even look into the eyes of evil without feeling horrified. I wasn't a hero, like the ones in the tales father used to tell me. I was only a girl challenging a force greater than mine and there was nothing more depressing, and gloomy, than the fact of facing all of this alone.

I wanted to make father proud, but would he understand? Would he be as sympathetic when he found out what I had been through? I wasn't so sure about it; I could almost see the disappointment and wrath in his eyes. After all, I was a woman— the creature that made men lose their minds. He would tell me that it was my fault, reproached that I betrayed him and soiled his honor. He would tell me that I was to blame for leaving home alone and exposing myself in such an indecorous way— parading my nude body without shame.

I didn't want to think about the punishment that would follow. Better to keep silent about this, but for how long would I be able to? If someday I were to marry, then the truth of my supposedly fornication would surface when my husband found out I was no longer pure— that I had known another man before him.

Was he even alive? I had thought father to be dead. Maybe he was, with Grozny having been attacked many times, and it was only mother, Zamira and I that remained. Nuura wouldn't have to endure his disgust and contempt, either, if he was gone. She would understand my affliction because she had gone through the same hell like me.

The lone idea was nauseating but, in my shaken up state, I was desperate for some solace. As I roamed the dark and terrifying forestry, I felt the ache in my limbs return, accompanied by the unbearable burning in my crotch that was the reminder of what that beast had done to me. My insides cramped, as though I was about to have my menses now of all times, and my knees wobbled unable to keep up. Even as I struggled to take one more step, I staggered with the bunch of unwashed clothes in my hands and several times almost lost my footing. I still managed to hold up, and slowly walked back to the village, night falling by the time I was half-way.

I really didn't want to return but I had no other choice. I had to face him and show him that, no matter what he did to me, he wouldn't break me. Or, at least, that was what I tried to believe. In reality I was scared out of my mind... so much that, if I encountered a predator on my way, I would have happily ran to it so it could hunt me down. Nothing could be more painful than what Vladimir had done, and I doubted I would ever forget this day. But the beasts of the night had wandered away, for there was only silence— one that preceded tragedy— and my heart tightened with pain when the whisper of the wind carried the scent of death.

It was then that I heard it; the thunder of vicious metal, and the screams of suffering and terror that made my blood run cold. At that moment, I realized what the dark promise in his eyes had meant when he left me behind. I knew I should have turned around and ran away, but I couldn't bring myself to stop and think clearly of this situation. It was as if I needed to see that my world was falling apart to understand that there was no hope.

Deep down, I knew the truth but I couldn't accept it. I didn't want to believe that my home, the cradle of my life and all I knew, was being destroyed. As bright embers ascended to the dark skies, I watched the gruesome scene unfold before my eyes. Bodies were lying all across the ground, eyes wide and mouths open in a perpetual but silent scream. Some seemed to be asleep and others wore a vacant expression of acceptance, as though they had been waiting for this day to come all along. For them, hell was over but to the poor souls that were trapped in the confusion, trying to escape the demons that tormented them, fate was still so unkind.

In the distance, I saw my house ablaze and my whole body quivered in unspoken horror, as I slowly shook my head in futile denial. How had it come down to this?

No one tried to help me, but I couldn't blame them for wanting to save themselves from this inferno. I knew I should have done the same, too, but I was too stunned to react as I watched the flames engulf my home. It wasn't until I had tripped and painfully landed on my side that I was brought back to my senses, restraining the urge to cry out at the sight I encountered. Before me lay a dead woman in a pool of blood, and her child— her poor baby— had shared the same fate as her. It was so sickening and sad that I couldn't help but feel a chilly shiver in my body, shrieking while trying to get on my feet as fast as possible.

Every second was a fight to stay alive. Amid shadows and corpses I hid, terrified someone might spot me. Throughout my path, I had caught sight of several soldiers— weapons in arms, as they paced around the village murdering any survivors they could find without any remorse.

"There!"

My hand instantly shot to my mouth to muffle a cry and I hurried in the direction of the House of Nightmares, not even stopping to think about the doom that could be waiting for me in there.

"Inside the barn!"

My time had come, I could feel it. I only hoped it would be swift and that there would be no pain. No more, please. I didn't think I could take any more of it. There was no way someone could stand that much torture, I pondered as I ventured into the dark building. Once inside, the reek of blood and other revolting bodily fluids assaulted my nostrils. I gagged in revulsion but, for my own good, kept quiet and prayed they would forget about me. With a shudder and a stifled sob, I remembered the man whose screams still echoed in my mind and wrenched my heart. He was probably in a much better place than the world I lived in.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming my way startled me. Death had been so close for the past days that I wasn't optimistic on getting away from her this time. But something in me didn't want to give up so easily— or maybe I still had hopes of seeing my family again. Whatever my motivation was, I knew I wanted to live then.

"I know you're here." I recognized that gruff voice and could imagine the nasty smirk on the lips of the scarred man. "Why don't you make things easier for us and come out?"

As I made myself as small as possible among the crates of hay behind the wooden stairs, I desperately tried to hold my breath and tears. There was no escape this time. I had stepped into a deadly trap and there was no way out. I was going to die, that night, in the most horrid and gruesome way possible at the hands of a sadistic killer.

"So this is how you want to play?" Every word he spilled was an implied threat and I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst. Sooner or later, he would find me. I didn't want to think of the things he would do to me once he did. "You can't hide for much longer."

My nose scrunched at the smell of burnt hay and I gasped in alarm, watching the enraged flames spread swiftly on the barn. As the fire began to consume everything in its path, I realized I was between a rock and hard place, debating whether I should remain in hiding or attempt a risky dash to the gates. Would I dare? Was I crazy enough to run to a certain death? It couldn't be any worse outside. At least, I would have the mercy of a quick execution instead of the excruciating agony of being burned alive.

Or that was what I thought.

At this point, I was ready for everything but nothing could have prepared me for the horrific sight that was revealed by the flames. The shadows flickering ominously on the face of murder itself had me frozen in place, and I shook at the fright of a ghost that had been haunting me for months on end. Had I finally lost it? I closed my eyes again, hoping to get rid of the awful apparition I had feared for so long, but it didn't go away. It never did. My jaw quivered with inexplicable emotions, all of them clutching my heart in a vicious grip. It was so otherworldly, so uncanny, that madness clawed at the walls of my mind and I couldn't breathe.

Was it the lack of eyes, the blood? Or perhaps it was the broken bones and pulled out teeth? Maybe it was the chopped off fingers or the skinned flesh? It could have been that and many other things but, as my eyes widened in horror and a scream tore from my throat, I realized I vaguely recognized that face.

Why was my life falling apart piece by piece? Tears rolled down my cheeks as I regarded the wretched and broken body of my father, resting on a solitary chair. Never in a million years did I imagine I would see him like this. Part of me couldn't give credit to what I was witnessing, and I shook my head in denial while I sobbed in desolate despair. I had always had the hunch he could have passed away, but I didn't expect it to be this way. How blind or deaf had I been all this time? I'd been so close, listening to his agony, as I sulked in my own misery, feeling sorry for myself and wishing he was dead. How despicable could I be?

"What do we have here?" At some point, I was looking in the eyes of none other than Boris, his brute and big hand seizing me by the hair. "Thought you could hide from me, little mouse?"

I was dragged outside, like a ragdoll, unable to match the callous strength of the animal that was manhandling me. Did I care at this point? Probably not, in my disturbed state of mind. Everything felt so far away that it seemed as though this wasn't happening to me but to someone else, and I was merely an observer of this nauseating feast of carnage and depravity.

The wretched cries of a girl paralyzed me. When they threw her to the ground, I saw the faces of scorn and lust of the men that had gathered around her. I wanted to stop them, but the world had become so alienating, so strange to me in the wake of this dark revelation of the worst side of human nature, that I could barely understand how I was witnessing such a crude and desolate scene. I watched as her blouse was torn to pieces, and hands defiled her body, but I stood in place unable to move— scared to do so.

Boris' pale eyes flickered in the portentous light of hellish flames, as he kneaded her without shame in front of his comrades. This earned him some wolf whistles and coarse comments when her dirty skirt was hiked up and her underwear shredded, revealing her already abused crotch.

"No more of a little girl, are you?" he jeered as he raised two fingers coated in red, before cackling in laughter. "Would you look at that? It seems like our dear captain has been having fun with this one! He'd called dibs on her after he found me trying to get some, but I was beginning to doubt he had any intentions of making her his little bitch."

"He sure enjoys taking his time."

"You know how he is. He loves waging some kind of psychological war with his victims. Pretty weird hobby, if you ask me. I would have just put a bullet in the heads of these rats and be done with it, but it wasn't enough for him."

"Whatever, I don't think he'll mind that I have a go at her now. Been keeping my eyes on this one since we got here."

"Isn't she the daughter of that son of a bitch we caught the other day, though?"

"I'll slit her throat after I'm done."

"Like hell you're doing that, Borya."

"Why do you give a shit all of a sudden? There are plenty of whores here to choose from."

"I just so happen to want that one, too. And I don't like the idea of fucking a bloodied corpse so don't spoil the fun for others, okay?"

"If that's the case, then I'll try not to hurt her... Too much." His snide remark was followed by scoffs and crude words. I felt the repulsion and fear grow in the pit of my stomach as memories flashed in my mind... nightmares that chased after me— the face of a demon I couldn't remember. I didn't want to remember and yet it was all I could see!

Peace was nothing but the vision of a distant past to me.

I dropped to my knees and clawed at the ground, howling and begging for mercy as I watched Boris undo his pants and part her legs wider. No one listened to my pleas, and no one would. She didn't react, either, and even though she was still breathing it felt like she was dead on the inside— there was no will in her to live and no strength to fight.

The thunder of gunfire, and screams in the background, mixed with the eerie laughter of those around us but she remained unfazed, irises carrying an empty gaze. I had seen her before, but her name eluded me and I struggled to recall who she was. However, I did know that she'd been happy like I was once, that she'd bloomed with life and dreams. Where was the shine in her eyes? Where was the smile she once bore? How could she be the same after all the horrors she'd seen and lived?

She simply could not when hatred was all there was left for her, and it had put down its roots in her soul.

But something changed in her. I knew she wanted Boris dead, then,— all of them— and I was aware of what she intended to do, to what extent her madness and her rage had taken over all reason and erased all humanity. I couldn't judge her for that; they didn't deserve mercy or pity, but I ached at the sight of this once innocent soul who now craved for blood and retribution. In her endeavors to destroy these monsters, she would become one herself. I didn't want to see the end of this, but the look in her eyes froze me to the core as I realized that she had nothing to lose and, therefore, fear couldn't stop her anymore.

Suddenly her hands started to move to his shoulders, massaging them. He hovered above her, unable to hold back a chuckle when her fingers traced a path south, and she writhed beneath him as though she wanted him closer. Of course, he would believe that she desired him when she looked so inviting.

"It seems that this harlot enjoyed spreading her legs for Vladimir because she's eager for more. Better give her what she wants, no?" Boris said with smugness, earning more amused reactions from the others. The drone of their malicious laughter made my head spin with pain, but I endured as I didn't dare look away.

Boris buried his face in the crook of her neck and, soon enough, let his guard down seeing that she had surrendered her body to him without a word— without putting up any resistance to his sickening advances. He could almost taste the pleasure when her mouth opened in apparent anticipation, her eyes rolling back as she nuzzled his cheek lovingly. I didn't understand what was going on, why did she decide to yield to him. But when I heard his howl of pain it all started to make sense, as he desperately tried to get away from her and she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

When she finally let go, Boris clutched the side of his head as a look of pain and fear crossed his rough features. I never expected to see him in this state, whimpering like a frightened little child, but I couldn't deny part of me derived satisfaction from his distress. A dark liquid began to ooze through his thick fingers and, when he looked at his stained hand, I noticed that a chunk of his ear was missing.

Her mouth and jaw were stained in blood and she spat the piece of flesh from her mouth. Everyone was too stunned to even react, including myself, and we watched the macabre scene unfold in a daze. The predator became the prey this time as she snatched the knife attached on the front of his vest and sunk it in his throat, pouncing on him with a savage cry. It was a most grotesque image to behold as she took out the blade and stabbed at his flesh, again and again.

Until he stopped struggling, at long last.