major triggers for this chapter: implied torture, implied rape, implied incest, blood.

Chapter 6-scream

"藏在肺裡的尖叫藏在骨頭和肌肉裡" -Grimes

Irene stumbles out into the light. It's blinding, and it's warm, and it's the best thing she's felt in days. Irene trips over her feet and falls to the pavement, sticking out her available hand and breaking her fall.

There's a helicopter in the distance. She can make it towards the helicopter. The helicopter is U.N.C.L.E. Napoleon is on the helicopter. Illya and Gaby are on the helicopter. She needs to make it there.

Irene pinches her eyelids shut. Too bright too bright too bright. Just move forward. Once foot before the other. We've been betrayed. We've been betrayed. Warn them warn them warn them.

She begins to drag herself forward, opening her eyes. Will they help me up? Are her teammates her friends are they going to protect her? Will they let her decompose into ruins?

It hurts.

Stings and shots and betrayal and knives and bullets and every muscle in her body shrieks for her to stop but she can't she needs to move forward and forward and she needs to keep up keep up keep going or she will die. Her breaths become shaky, and her hand feels sticky where it rests against her body. Is that sweat? Blood? She can't remember. All that flashes through her brain is the memory of a silver blade dragged across her forearm and nails in her back and there's a soreness between her legs and she feels empty and used, like her father used to use her, and she feels disgusting and maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she died right now. She should just float away, into the light, towards the light, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe death is not sad. Maybe it's sane.

The idea is so appealing that her eyes begin to slip shut. She's tired. And then, she remembers. Betrayal. She must tell them so that they are not hurt like she has been hurt. Irene does not want them to get poked and prodded and stabbed and she does not want Gaby to be tied up like she was and abused like she was and she does not want to see bullets in the torsos of her teammates or her partners and she just wants to protect them.

So Irene must keep going.

There's a faint click click click in the distance, and maybe it's a bomb. Maybe it'll kill her and maybe it'll kill all the others. Maybe they'll all be obliterated and turned to dust, and Irene can fade away and nobody will remember. If all the others die then Irene is okay with dying too. She just wants to keep them safe. The spies.

The click click comes closer and Irene looks up at the sky, wonders if her atheism has been wrong all along. If the noise is a bomb and she dies, where will she go? Her body will burn and turn to ashes and nobody will care. She is a faceless girl among the system. But what of her soul? Will she be reborn? Will she meet the God that was preached to her every Sunday in suburban hell?

Maybe Mary and Susan and Sally and Heather and Rachel and Linda were all correct, and she was wrong because she is stupid and soon, she will be dead.

Click click click click click explode explode come on. EXPLODE goddammit. Ruin me. "I want to die," she whispers. "Kill me."

The click click comes close, and then someone is heaving her up. Maybe they'll take her back and that's how she will die. That is an unsatisfactory death. She will not die and the hands of men.

When her pupils filter the light, though, it is not a burly man or a twisted woman. It is Illya, and thank god he doesn't hate her enough to leave her behind.

There is a man that runs up behind him. Waverly? No. Napoleon. "What's she saying?" someone asks, and Irene moves her lips back and forth, mouthing a word since her vocal chords won't work. "Betrayal. Betrayal. She lied to us. She lied to us."

Illya sets Irene down and she sways for a moment, finding her footing. Her occupied hand presses harder against her stomach.

"She's hurt. She's too pale. Where's the wound?"

Someone is talking and someone is mouthing words and Irene smiles, mouths a sad, "I'm sorry," as her eyes well up, and then she drops her hand from her torso, the overall pattern of scarlet slipping down her stomach and all over her hand, between her fingers as it coagulates and sticks, and Irene entered the world covered in blood and now, this is how she will leave it. Her heart feels limp and she didn't reach the helicopter, but that's okay. "Betrayal," she mumbles against Illya's shoulder, teeth bloodied.

And she collapses.

Let's rewind.


The news that evening calls for searches for Maya, but they've already dropped her off at the docks, where a CIA agent is taking her to the leisure unit for a few weeks until things blow over. Now that they've extracted Maya, they have to focus on her fiance's involvement with terrorists.

Irene watches from the coastline as a boat carrying the teenager floats away. It's big, full of agents. She's safe, and maybe it'll help Irene sleep better at night.

Turning around, she finds herself face-to-face with Napoleon, who is wiping his hands with a handkerchief. Irene stumbles back in surprise. When did he get that close?

She steps away from him, and heads towards Waverly. "What next?"

The man purses his lips in thought for a few moments, before answering, "You will infiltrate the base. Hasan has many mistresses. You will be the next."

Irene bites her lip. She can begrudgingly allow herself to pretend she is sleeping with a married man behind the curtain, but she does not actually want to sleep with a man. She can't. Sex is not possible for Irene. If they make her do it she will scream for help and she will suffocate as hands wrap around her throat and the atmosphere is sucked free of oxygen.

But if she says no, what will they do to her? Send her back to suburban hell? She doesn't want to go back to that. She can't.

So does she even have a choice?

a/n: I know this chapter was really short but I felt like this was a good place to cut it off. Thank you all for your continued support, it means so much to me even though I've been taking a long ass time to update. I'm not trying to be petty, but I've noticed a slight decline in reviews and if you guys would share your thoughts on the chapter, if would mean the world to me.

Also on another note, um I broke 120 followers? Thank you so much omg.

As always, feel free to hit me up on tumblr. My main blog is jo-harvelles and my writing blog is mars-carter.