A/N:Hi all, I'm back and ready to continue writing! As usual, if you find any typos, please tell me and I will certainly fix them. Thanks to The Hobbit Diet for helping with this too. It needed a little tweaking. And a thanks to you, reader, for reading :) I'm glad you're still there and taking an interest in this!

Warning: Chapter contains graphic sexual material. Read at your own risk.

The sky was becoming overcast, making the forest seem darker and the air cooler. The further they walked, the more obvious it became to Scarlett that Vladimir wasn't leading her back to the hut. And following Vladimir was no walk in the park. For one, the mountainous terrain was hard on Scarlett's joints. There were hills from where she resided back in Mississippi, but they were nothing compared to the ones she was having to scale now; these were bigger, steeper, more numerous. Secondly, she was so weak from lack of nourishment that trying to keep up with the Russian man seemed nearly impossible. He was taller, more adequately fed, and used to hiking this difficult land, so he naturally wasn't having as hard of a time. Nevertheless, he would occasionally wait for her to catch up had she fallen too far behind. He'd never fuss her, never urge her to hurry along. He would just stand and watch with a neutral expression until she reached his side.

At one point while they were going up a steep hill, Scarlett lost traction in her boot and slipped, but Vladimir immediately spun around and caught her wrist before she could slide all the way back downhill. She released a breath of relief that she didn't have to scale the gradient a second time.

Sometime later, Vladimir dropped down from a small overhang to land on the ground some seven feet below. When Scarlett came to the same edge, she instinctively backed away. She peeked down at the Russian, whom merely stared back at her before he held out his arms, offering to catch her. Cautiously, Scarlett sat down with her feet dangling over the edge and pushed herself off. Not sure how she would land, she closed her eyes and waited for the impact, but she felt herself collide with another body. Vladimir had caught her by the torso and bent his knees to absorb the impact. Realizing she was unhurt, Scarlett straightened up. He kept his arms around her in an embrace and peered down at her dark head. She stared at his chest, wondering if she should thank him. He didn't have to catch her, but he chose to and it was considerate of him. A nod was all she gave him.

Hiking on further, she had to swat at a few mosquitoes, but they weren't as irksome as the ones back home, which were present for most of the year in the thousands. She distinctly remembered when her dad would take her hunting early in the morning when it was still dark outside and the mosquitoes would nestle their way right into her ears. Their buzzing sounds were a high enough pitch that she would whimper and clamp her hands over her ears at lightning speed, wanting to cry. It was enough to drive a person insane. And she would still be affected by them even after she escaped the woods when she came home with dozens of bites on the surfaces of skin that had not been shielded by her clothes. But at least she wasn't being eaten alive by the little blood-suckers at the moment.

The scavenger and young woman then came upon an enormous tree that had fallen over and barricaded their path. Vladimir crossed the giant trunk with ease, putting his hand on the bark and vaulting over it. Scarlett likewise approached the log, but was puzzled as to how she would cross it. The tree trunk came up to her chest. Vladimir gazed at her from the opposite side and cocked his head, anticipating her move. Scarlett clumsily lifted her leg into the air to try to wrap it around the trunk, as if she were mounting a horse, but it only resulted in her falling on her rear as her balance became uncoordinated. Vladimir smirked in amusement before offering his hand over the log to assist her. Getting back on her feet, she warily grasped the hand with a tight grip and, with a sharp inhale, sprang up while Vladimir pulled her towards him. Bark scraped her clothes and boots as she twisted her body so that she could slide across the tree. She swung her legs to land back on the ground and stood in front of the scavenger. She gave him another nod in thanks.

"No problem," he smiled and ruffled her hair playfully, continuing on. Scarlett frowned and smoothed her hair back down, scampering after him. At least someone's mood had improved. She'd rather be around a happy Vladimir than a pissed off one.

The sound of running water was within earshot now and Scarlett was getting more excited with every step they made towards it. Her tongue and throat were dying of thirst and just the thought of moving water made her want to squeal with excitement like a kid getting exactly what they wanted on their birthday. They came to a clearing with a small waterfall rushing over a stone ledge and a pond at the bottom. Scarlett wanted to run past Vladimir and just start drinking straight from it, but suppressed her desires by clenching her teeth together. It killed her to wait. To prevent her face from outright glaring, she scanned the rest of their surroundings. The place was pretty secluded, like a little sanctuary in the middle of the forest. She wondered if this was a secret place of his; a place where he could relax without being disturbed.

Vladimir motioned for her to come closer to the pond and tilted his head towards it. Scarlett looked at the water, furrowing her eyebrows, and then back at him.

"Clean yourself up," he told her and wandered a few feet away, presumably to keep watch.

Scarlett called out after him, "What about you?"

He didn't give her an answer.

Scarlett knelt beside the pond, cupped her hand in the water, and drank the miniscule amount of liquid her hand provided. She repeated the motion over and over again, losing track of how many times her hand dove into the pond. She hadn't drank anything since the previous night and what she did have was firewater: something that made her even more dehydrated. Actual, cool water felt so refreshing going down her parched throat. It tasted like heaven. Next, she wet the dried blood on her face and proceeded to carefully scrape it off with her nails. A diluted red color began dripping into the pond. She also cleaned her bloody shoulder, wincing whenever she aggravated the deeper gashes. It was a shock to her how something as simple as water could send her nerve endings on fire. Moments passed and her shoulder didn't look as serious; only small cuts were present now. She splashed water on her face and peered at the waterfall, letting the drops cascade down her chin as she went into a trance. Something inside her wanted to run away right now, to cross this pond and bolt into the forest until she could no longer hear Vladimir yell and curse. It'd be so easy. Freedom was staring right at her.

But it'd be so stupid.

It wouldn't take long for him to catch her, especially in her weakened state. And he would shoot her or punish her in some unspeakable fashion, like breaking her limbs; just as he did to those men a few short hours ago. For now, she'd just have to continue to suffer until…something happened, some miraculous opportunity presented itself.

But what if that moment never comes? Things don't just fall into place, you know that.

You're going to have to make it happen. You're going to have to take the initiative. Right now, just…lay low. You'll be okay. I promise you'll be okay, Scarlett. You've survived this long.

She sighed and stood up, dragging her feet to go back and stand at her captor's side.

"I'm done," she mumbled at him.

He looked down and shook his head disapprovingly. "No," he placed a hand on the back of her shoulder and turned her to face the pond again. "Clean up."

"But I di—"

"Clean everything," he pointed his index finger up and down at her body.

Scarlett flared her nostrils and inwardly grimaced. He wanted her in the pond, to see her in the water completely naked, as if taking a bath. Sure, the pond was one of the closest things to having a bathtub around here, but this felt…perverted, like she was being filmed for a porno or something.

Vladimir huffed in annoyance and gave her a push. "Get in there."

She pivoted to look at him once more, but his back was to her as he continued to keep watch. In all honesty, she did feel grimy. She hadn't cleaned herself in three days. All of the salt, sand, debris, sweat, and other…unmentionable bodily fluids were still on her. She was able to smell herself and it was pretty rank. How Vladimir was able to tolerate it was beyond her. Well, he didn't smell all that nice either. Personal hygiene was obviously not a priority for him. But she still felt uncomfortable stripping in his presence, even with his back facing her. Whenever he looked at her, it felt like his eyes burned into her very core; and that was not even taking into consideration the wanton glances he would cast her way every now and then. Nevertheless, she didn't want to make him angry in any sort of fashion, especially after witnessing him kill a man with his bare hands. She would make it quick. She'd quickly undress, get in the water, clean herself as best she could, get out, and put her clothes back on before Vladimir turned back around. She usually loved taking showers, but this was not the time nor the place to relax and let the water soothe her body.

Checking that the man still had his back to her, she quickly stripped off all her clothes, tossed them in a pile on the ground, and stepped into the water to get her feet wet. It was chilly and she hissed. She glanced behind her one more time to make sure Vladimir was still facing the other way and then stared back at the water. She frowned and forced herself to wade further in with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, covering her chest. She felt the cold suck the warmth right out of her blood and it didn't take long for her to start shivering. Once she reached the middle of the pond, Scarlett began vigorously rubbing her body up and down with water. Dirt and grass particles that once clung to her body were now floating on the water's surface. What she wouldn't give for a bar of soap right now! Once she had declared she was clean enough, she turned around with the intention of quickly exiting the water and rushing back into her clothes, not even caring if she was dripping wet, but Vladimir was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes darted around and she could no longer feel her stomach.

Okay, where is he? He wouldn't leave me out here alone, right?

She sank neck-deep into the water and retreated towards the waterfall to hide, terrified that some random man or wild animal was going to stumble upon her and attack. She was so vulnerable right now, anything could take her out. She was abruptly stopped by something warm behind her. Her heartbeat disappeared altogether as she feared the worst. She whipped her head around to see Vladimir in the water as well, stark naked. Scarlett brusquely retreated, splashing water everywhere in the process, and forced herself to keep her eyes on his upper half, on the waterfall, on the trees; anywhere but there. Her face began to feel like it had been in an oven again, like she could bake cookies on it.

Vladimir laughed at her scarlet cheeks. "Like what you see?"

Scarlett instead focused on the water ripples and felt a chill rush through her. She hugged her torso even tighter, desperate for warmth.

Noticing her shiver, Vladimir held his arms out to her. "C'mere."

Scarlett didn't move. Although he was well-built with broad shoulders, sufficient muscle tone, and defined abs (certainly a body any superficial girl would drool over), she didn't want to be right up against him. He was a dangerous man.

"C'mon," he insisted and chuckled, "He doesn't bite. You know that."

Scarlett didn't think her face could get any hotter, but her body seemed to prove her wrong. Her face had to be the color of a beet now. She stared hard at her feet at the bottom of the pond while Vladimir only snickered. He was making fun of her shame, her humiliation, and her drunkenness from last night. How had she thought pleasuring him was acceptable?! The truth was, she hadn't been thinking. She was just doing. She had been so drunk off her ass, she could barely see straight. Maybe if she had just drank a shot or two more, she wouldn't have even remembered it. He beckoned her towards him again and Scarlett tentatively moved closer. Just being mere inches from him, she could feel his warmth radiating off of him like a furnace. She hated it. She hated that she was so cold and he was warm, like nature was telling her to fall into the arms of the Devil. It was sickening. And he didn't seem the least fazed by the water's cool temperature, which made it even more sickening.

You can't reject him, Scarlett. Remember the plan: lay low and play along with him. Act like you like—no—act like you love him. Put your head on his chest. Do it!

She lowered her head in an almost robotic fashion until it came into contact with his chest. She could hear a faint thumping. Was that...was that his heart?! This man, this monster, had an actual, beating heart. Even though he was a deranged sociopath and completely insane, vile, and boorish, he was still a man; still a human being. He had emotions: happiness, sadness, anger, confidence; just like any normal person. Perhaps she could soften his demeanor. He could change, right? She could crack his hard shell and reveal the gentler side of him; maybe even sway him to change his crude ways or, better yet, get him to let her go.

Scarlett blinked hard as her gut sank at the opposite possibility, the one that was more likely to be a reality: he was too far gone, stripped of his humanity and left with nothing but raw instinct. So much for foolish wishful thinking…

Her eyes wandered upward. She felt so small in his clutches, being only five and a half feet tall, while he must have exceeded six. Judging by his calm and rhythmic breaths, he seemed pretty mellow at the moment. It could have been the water having a soothing effect on him or maybe it was the alcohol from earlier.

Probably the alcohol.

But perhaps she should take advantage of the current situation and try to talk with him, gain some information; though she would have to choose her words carefully. This would be the first real conversation she would have with the man and she certainly didn't want to set him off.

"I wanna…say...thanks again…for...earlier," she told him, feeling like she had to force every word out of her mouth.

He grunted in what Scarlett understood as a "you're welcome" while taking a portion of her hair and examining how all the wet strands clung together. Silence hung in the air.

Talk about him, Scarlett. Talk about him. After all, that had been Zoey's advice for her when talking to guys.

"Where're you from?" Scarlett wondered. This felt so awkward.

Vladimir tilted his head to the side, taken aback by her curiosity. His first instinct was to tell her Soviet Union, as he had lived there throughout all of his youth, but he caught himself. Things had changed there a year or two before he left.

"Russia."

Knew he was from there, Scarlett thought in a small victory and paused before asking another question. "What's it like there?"

Vladimir immediately frowned. He didn't care to talk about his homeland. Everything in that country had been crumbling to shambles when he had left. The economy sucked, the leadership was a joke; and that was just to name a couple of the things that were wrong. Vladimir, himself, had taken up a life of a criminal at an early age, doing illegal jobs on the black market, which included thievery and murder, and wound up in jail on more than one occasion. Least to say, that life was chaotic. He always had to look over his shoulder and sleep with one eye open because he never knew whom he could trust. His current life, however, was more…stable, if he could call it that. He possessed a leadership position, higher than he would have ever assumed in his previous life, and got to pummel anyone who defied him.

When Vladimir didn't offer her an answer, the young woman lifted her head from his chest and observed his slight frown. She also took note of his swelling cheek, the one that had several gashes going across it. She raised a chilly, trembling hand to the inflamed lesion and carefully wiped the dried blood from it.

"Won't you tell me something about it?" she beseeched.

He winced from the stinging of her wet hand to his delicate wound and she quickly retreated her hand like a frightened rabbit.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shrinking back.

He caught her wrist and brought her hand back up to his face, leaning into it, like a cat wanting its owner to pet it. Taking that as permission to resume what she was doing, she went back to cleansing his cheek and then the rest of the dirt from his face. Eventually, her thumb landed on his bottom lip and lingered there. She seemed to freeze in place, as though she was unsure of what she was doing. She hastily pulled her hand from his mouth and averted her gaze to the pond's edge. Vladimir's eyebrows knitted together. Why did she keep pulling away? What she had been doing was rather nice. He took her by the chin to make her look at him again and leaned in for a kiss.

His touch was tender and the force of the kiss was firm, yet gentle; very surprising to Scarlett. Maybe in a different life where he wasn't such a ruthless man and a few years younger, she might would've found him attractive. But she could never enjoy any part of him. That was made clear to her on her first night with him. Vladimir withdrew from her lips and Scarlett grabbed his hand, interlocking her fingers between his as a way to keep the moment intimate. She had to at least act as if she liked him and was grateful to him. She laid her head back on his chest and squeezed his hand. Her fingers practically looked like those of a child's compared to his giant ones.

"So, who's Mathias?" she changed the subject, hoping he would give her an honest response.

"He's in charge," Vladimir stroked her breasts slowly with his fingers, watching water droplets slide between them. Scarlett folded her lips inward to keep herself from emitting a shudder. She wanted to wrench his hand away and twist his wrist so far the wrong way that it'd break.

Attempting to ignore the disgust and keep the conversation going, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "But I thought you were?"

Vladimir clarified, "He's in charge of everything here."

"Oh…"

Her eyes went to the tattoos on each side of his lower abdomen. They looked like full-armored medieval knights that were on horseback and possessed lances. She traced one of the spears with her index finger. Even though some of her friends back home had tattoos, Scarlett never closely inspected nor touched one in her life. She'd thought it would've been socially unacceptable or even rude to ask. Her attention wandered to Vladimir's left inner forearm. She curiously took it in her grasp and exposed another tattoo of a naked mermaid caressing her long, flowing hair. She gawked at it like a curious child. It seemed like an odd tattoo for a man to have. It was feminine, delicate.

Vladimir watched her carefully examining his body. He wondered what was going through her mind. Would she ask him about his markings? Where he got them? When he got them? What they represented? He'd rather not say…

"What's this ritual that people keep talking about?" the girl wondered instead.

Vladimir narrowed his eyes at the question. How did she know about the rituals? He hadn't uttered a single word about them to her. Exactly how much had she learned on her little outing today? What had the men told her? He suddenly felt protective and didn't want her to ask any more questions about it. He'd rather not think about her undergoing a ritual as harsh as what Mathias called for. No, she was too precious for that. Actually, he wanted her to stop asking questions altogether. She was asking too many, ones that didn't concern her. She was here for him and that's all she needed to know.

The girl dropped his arm into the water and pressed another question.

"Why don't you tell me anything?"

Vladimir snaked his hands to her rear. She was certainly talkative today.

"Because you're my little shlyukha," he answered in a husky voice, watching her eyes steadily grow, "and all you need to know is that I fuck you."

Scarlett didn't have time to take a breath before he pushed her down by the shoulders and forced her under the water. The cold was like a million daggers stabbing her at once. Vladimir kissed her roughly, but she hurriedly ripped herself from him to resurface and gasped for air, coughing up water. He simply waited for her coughing fit to cease, finding her unpreparedness entertaining.

Vladimir returned to her lips hungrily and pushed her to the edge of the pond, mud smearing across her back. He seized her legs and wrapped them around his waist, then proceeded to grope her breasts, his large hands encompassing them completely. She wanted to recoil, but there was nowhere to flee. It was like he was suffocating her with his body and she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She couldn't get out. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't do anything. She was stuck like this until he backed off. She wanted to scream.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore and was prepared to push him back in defiance, Vladimir tore away and released a forced sigh, as if displeased. What was it? Did he sense her intentions? Her rebellion? Scarlett's eyes were wide as she waited for him to say something. But his attention appeared to be elsewhere.

Timidly looking up at him, Scarlett whispered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he huffed, moving away from her in annoyance.

Scarlett had no clue what the problem was. Did he see someone in the forest spying on them? She whipped her head around and observed her surroundings, but there was no one. Was something else bothering him? Was she not doing something right? Hopefully, whatever was wrong wasn't her fault.

Vladimir ran a hand through his wet hair and it fell into the water, making a brisk splash.

"What is it?" she quietly asked again whilst taking a step towards him. Vladimir glared and splashed water into her face, wanting her to stay back. Scarlett halted. Seeing him angry was probably the scariest thing on Earth right now. But not knowing what he was angry at was just as terrifying. If she made a wrong move or even a peep, he'd probably shove her head underwater and drown her right then and there. She didn't doubt that for a second. She watched him standing there, saying nothing, as if the problem he was having was internal. Was he having second thoughts about holding her hostage? Did he realize what he was doing was wrong? Was he finally battling immorality?

It was none of those things.

Something felt amiss for Vladimir. It wasn't as thrilling this time. He was having difficulty becoming aroused and it was deeply bothering him. Why was this happening now of all times? How many lonely nights had he spent fantasizing about this type of situation and now that a beautiful woman was here in the flesh, his body decided that it didn't want to be in the mood. This was hurting his pride even more than Dmitri suffocating him. He knew the girl wouldn't laugh at him even if he told her what the problem was, but it would probably deteriorate the image she had of him. He cursed his maturing body. Damn being middle-aged! He was determined, though. He would get there. He just needed the right turn on. His hand traveled down between his legs and the girl immediately diverted her gaze.

Scarlett avoided looking in that direction, but from the general area, she got an idea of why he was frustrated. It was something she did not expect, but he wasn't exactly young in age either. He had to be at least fifteen, if not twenty, years older than her; late thirties, probably early forties. It had to be embarrassing for him. A lot of the male psyche depended on ability to perform and for a man that couldn't, it had to be one of the most humiliating things to admit, especially to the opposite sex.

All of a sudden, Vladimir directed a piercing stare at her and Scarlett felt everything in her stop: her breath, her heart, her brain activity. She sensed something bad was about to happen. What kind of twisted, evil, disgusting thing was he going to do to her this time?

He gave her a command. "Touch yourself."

Scarlett knitted her eyebrows together. What did he just say? She stood there, feeling similar to a student that was called out to write a problem on the board in school without knowing how to solve it.

"W-what?" she stuttered as she picked at a loose piece of skin near her thumb nail.

"Do it," Vladimir ordered.

"I…I don't—"

"Do it!"

Scarlett winced at his vehement tone. A sharp pain shot through her thumb and blood began pumping its way into the water as she had ripped the skin off of her finger.

"Now!" he shouted.

She carefully put her index finger between her legs under Vladimir's penetrating gaze, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame. This was humiliating, making her fondle herself for his own sick pleasure. She couldn't decide what was worse: him touching her or him ordering her to touch herself while he watched. She was shaking so badly that she couldn't feel what she was doing. It made her even more uncomfortable when Vladimir began stroking himself. The sight made her lightheaded. She couldn't look at him. She tried to focus on the leaves in the trees to battle the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Do more, shlyukha. Enjoy it," he demanded.

Scarlett cautiously slid her finger inside. It felt strange. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't do this. She pulled out, but that only made the Russian more irritated.

"Did I say 'stop'?" Vladimir narrowed his eyes. "Get back in there before I shove my whole fist up your pussy," he threatened.

Scarlett shuddered, desperately fighting the urge to crumple to the ground and bawl her eyes out. Reluctantly, she put her finger back between her legs, but couldn't bring herself to do anything.

Her unwillingness only served to irritate him further. "Goddammit, start fucking yourself!" he spat.

Scarlett merely stood there, frozen with fear.

Scarlett, come on! Do it!

I can't. I can't! I can't do this!

You better do it or he's going to fucking KILL you, you hear me?!

Scarlett cowered at that dominant voice in her head. She hated it, but she knew it was right. Vladimir would kill her if she didn't do what he said. She clenched her jaw as she moved her finger around and dared not to look at the menacing man in front of her masturbating. She didn't want to see him enjoying this, so she closed her eyes and tried to picture herself somewhere else. Anywhere but here. All she could think about was her old boyfriend, Justin. It was true, they never had intercourse, but that didn't mean that they were never not intimate with each other. Most of the time, it was just kissing and petting. He had even given her a hickey once. A couple of times, they had gone to "third base", with her giving him a blow job, him fingering her, and both of them dry-humping each other until they climaxed. She would often daydream about the way he made her feel, usually before she went to bed at night or in the morning after she had just woken up. And right now, that's all she let herself think about: she and Justin, alone, in her room at night. Even though they weren't in a relationship anymore, those were some of the more pleasant memories she had with him. He had made her feel so good.

Scarlett was suddenly ripped from her happy place by a force crashing into her, knocking her onto her front. Her gut had that sort of pain she would get whenever she performed a belly flop into a swimming pool. It ached and she felt like she couldn't take a full, proper breath. She sensed a ginormous weight mount her backside and immediately opened her eyes. The thought of this huge man on top of her in this position made her feel like an animal, as this was the way horses, lions, and wolves procreated. There was nothing intimate about the connection at all; just pure sex. She squirmed and made an attempt to crawl out of his grip, but he gathered her hair into a ponytail and leant towards her ear.

"Back home," Vladimir gruffly spoke, "we were taught not to smile as children. You know why?"

Scarlett pulled against the vice-like grip he had on her hair and whimpered. She could feel his member just centimeters from her entrance. She didn't care in the least bit of what he had to say. She wanted out. She wanted this to stop.

"Be still!" Vladimir curtly wrenched her hair to the side, stopping her attempts to struggle against him. She had wanted to know something about Russia, so he was going to tell her. "They told us that only fools smile for no reason," he said, becoming sufficiently aroused at seeing goosebumps arise on her skin at his words. "Or it meant someone had something to hide…"

A thought suddenly struck him. The girl beneath him had given him a smile when they had first met. And several times since. Why? Why has she been acting so friendly towards him? It was not the norm for most people, let alone women, who became shipwrecked here. Was she hiding something from him? Plotting something? An escape? His murder? Why else would she be staying with him for this long? All of these questions made Vladimir feel threatened, much like this morning when he pondered her loyalties. It was very possible that she was able to concoct such a plan and betray him. And what Dmitri had said to him yesterday about her having the potential to kill only intensified the paranoia. What game was this little girl trying to play with him?

He yanked her head backwards and questioned, "Are you hiding something from me?!"

"No! No, I swear!" she cried, grasping fistfuls of mud in her palms. He was trying to sniff her out like a bloodhound, trying to detect any hint of betrayal.

"Are you a fool?!"

"No!" She could barely shake her head from side to side due to how much force he had on her scalp. She sounded so pitiful and had tears in her eyes. He decided that there was no way she was lying to him. If she was, she would have already confessed by now.

"Damn right you're not. You're a smart, little shlyukha. And you'd know what would happen if you tried anything. I would have to kill you. You know that, right?"

"Yes," she gulped, shaking from head to toe.

"Good, because you wouldn't be as fun if you were dead."

He shoved his way into her harshly, making her release a yelp. Scarlett shut her eyes and tensed every muscle in her body, hoping that it would somehow turn him off. But it didn't seem to make any difference. She balled her hands into fists and dug her nails into her palms until they stung, hoping that it would take her mind off of the pain between her legs, but it hardly seemed to have any effect. She wanted to pass out, even give her life away to not feel this rough man inside her anymore, hurting her. Right now, it felt like she was in an eternal blazing pit of hell without any way out. She could try with all her might to claw her way out until she had no more fingernails, but every thrust of the brute on top of her was like mockery, scoffing at her for even thinking she had a chance.

"Say 'yes' to me," he breathed in her ear. "I like it."

Scarlett could feel a cold sweat develop on her back between their bodies. "Yes…" she whispered, trembling.

"Again," he groaned.

Scarlett whimpered, "Yes..."

He smacked her ass. "You like that, huh?"

She responded with tears, her face buried in the mud. "Yes."

He pounded into her mercilessly, breathing heavily. "You're really turning me on, baby. Say it to me over and over. Loud and proud."

Scarlett cried "yes" again and again. She hated it with all of her heart, but if it meant that he would finish quicker and leave her alone, then she'd do it. When Vladimir performed his most forceful thrust yet, it made her squeak the word like a wounded mouse, and he began to ride out his orgasm so hard that she thought he was ravaging her insides. It was horrible, but it meant that it was almost over. He would get off her soon.

Once Vladimir had had his fill, Scarlett felt weak. She had been pushed so far into the ground that she just wanted to become one with it now. He slid out of her and rested his head on the back of her left shoulder, attempting to catch his breath. She jolted when a shiver came over her and in response, he nuzzled her shoulder blade with his nose. He gave her a brief, gentle kiss on the back of her neck before lifting himself up and off of her. Scarlett instantly felt the warmth from his body disappear and the dampness from her wet skin and hair gave her another chill. She turned onto her side, getting covered in even more grass and mud, negating why she went in the water in the first place. She curled into a ball, hating herself for turning into this…this whore. Something she would never be able to undo. Death felt preferable now. Then, at least, she wouldn't have to feel like a piece of shit anymore. She wouldn't be trapped. How could she make it happen, though? A gunshot to the head? Strangled? Beaten to death? Vladimir could carry out any one of those deeds.

But then, another thought began to tug at her heart. Scarlett thought of her mother. She could imagine the woman receiving the news of the death of her daughter and covering her face while sobbing hysterically into her hands as she collapsed to the floor. It would have been the news her mother had dreaded all along. She had told Scarlett the research trip was too dangerous. And what did Scarlett do? She shrugged it off as usual because her mom was a huge worry wart. But she would have been the reason for making her own mother, the woman who gave birth to her, fed her, clothed her, and loved her with all of her heart, cry. It hurt the young girl's heart. Fresh, hot tears slid down Scarlett's cheeks and onto her hands. No parent should ever have to mourn the death of their child. And what if they didn't even have her body to bury because it was stuck here on this shitty island and rotting in these godforsaken woods? Oh God, that was a seriously morbid thought. Yet, not unrealistic. Nevertheless, she didn't want her family, her mother, to go through that psychological trauma. She wanted to make it back to them, to let them know that she survived; that she would come home. Scarlett squeezed a fistful of mud in her hand and felt it ooze between her fingers. She would make it home.

The sun had gone down and night had taken over. Vladimir glanced to his right to see the girl was still over by the pond. She had been in that spot for what he speculated to be an hour now. Whether she was sleeping or not, he didn't know. Vladimir raised an eyebrow in amusement, thinking that if she were asleep, he must have really worn her out.

He fed a small fire with kindling and stared deep into the yellow-orange, flickering flames.

Fire. The girl would have been destroyed by it. Mathias would have wasted a perfectly good fuckable girl. It was either that or he would've sent her to the dark walkers. That would have been an even bigger waste. He preferred Nikolai's idea about new female survivors more. The men should be able to fuck one of them when they felt the need. It'd make this place a lot more bearable. And even though he would never admit it to a soul, he missed human affection sometimes. Gentle words, soft touches, light caresses, passionate kissing...those were nonexistent here; unless someone swung the other way, which a fair amount of men have since converted once they realized they're trapped here forever. Having some sort of attention from a woman on a regular basis would be a pleasant change from the usual life out here, which left no room for mushy feelings. Everyone was always so fixated on survival, on work, on escape, there wasn't much leisure time to focus on feelings. But at the end of a hard day's work when there was time for relaxation, it was loneliness that consumed the men the most. How many times had he, himself, lain looking up at the ceiling of the shack at night desperately wanting a warm female body to be curled up next to him and keep him company? Countless times. There have been a few women on the island with which he did have his way, but they were always taken away from him in the end. But now, he did have one. He could have those mushy feelings again. And having those feelings felt like he was doing more than just surviving. It felt like he was almost living normally again.

Vladimir heard the sloshy sound of grass and saw the girl coming towards him, head down and arms crossed over her chest. He could see the fatigue in her legs as she walked. She sat down in front of the fire, opposite of him, drew her legs to her chest, and let her chin rest on her knees. With a blank stare, she gazed into the flames, almost as if in a trance. Her pale face made the circles under her eyes seem even darker, almost black. Overall, she appeared dead. There was no emotion in her eyes; no fear, no fiery spirit. Nothing. Just…dullness.

Perhaps he could liven her spirits. Women supposedly loved complements. Vladimir crawled over to her and gently tucked some of her damp hair behind her ear.

"You're the best I've had in years," he purred.

Scarlett flinched from his touch and whipped her face away from him. What was he trying to do now? Sweet talk her?

"You're pretty," he continued, combing his hand through her hair, "and you don't put up any fights. No one has stayed this long. They always fight back. But you don't. I like that."

Scarlett's skin crawled at his words. What was she supposed to say to something like that? He was completely insane. Who knew how many people he's killed throughout his life? He himself had probably lost count a long time ago. And God only knew how many women he's raped. And then killed once he was done with them. There was something wrong with him; with his head. He must have some kind of disorder; a violent one. He thought all of his crimes were nothing. And out here, on an island in the middle of nowhere, it was true. They were nothing. Nobody was going to come and arrest him for his wrongdoings. He was free to do whatever pleased him. And Scarlett couldn't combat that. Not without a weapon, at least. So, if she stuck with her plan of being loyal to him, he was bound to slip up after some time, right? He would leave an opening, an opportunity, for her to gain the upper hand and escape. She prayed that opportunity would be sooner rather than later, for who knew what other disgusting, perverted things he was going to do to her or make her do? And after witnessing how his mood could change at the flip of a switch, his temper—God, his temper—and what he could do with that rage, she best play it cool for now; unless she wanted her neck broken.

Scarlett finally looked back at him and saw that he was gazing at her affectionately. She leaned into the hand still stroking her hair and closed her eyes, hating herself. A nauseous feeling slowly crept into her throat like a slimy, horror movie monster climbing its way out of a sewer as she had to force the words out.

"I like to please you."

Vladimir smirked at those words. It felt complete: she was under his absolute control. She was here to stay. He rewarded her with a lovely kiss.

Scarlett could hardly kiss him back. She still felt queasy from what she had just said and prayed that she wouldn't vomit into his mouth.

He finally pulled away and Scarlett mentally released a sigh of relief. She watched him as he laid down on his back and placed an arm under his head to gaze at the sky.

Scarlett peered upwards as well. There were millions—no, billions—of stars that lit up the night sky. She mistook a few twinkling ones for airplanes, but remembered where she was when she noticed that they were staying stationary. There were no planes here. No planes, no civilization; just cruel Mother Nature. On the other hand, without any city lights, the sky was beautiful; almost divine. It looked like it could appear on the cover of a National Geographic magazine. It made her situation seem less grim. Her family was under the same sky, the same stars.

Only separated by an ocean, thousands of miles wide.

God, Scarlett, don't think like that. They're under the same sky. If you look at it from the perspective of the universe, you're not that far away.

Pshhh…

Scarlett laid down on her side and put her arm under her head for support. A slight breeze came through and she brought her limbs closer to her core. Her teeth chattered for a second and Vladimir turned to look at her softly.

He grabbed his coat, making sure to remove the pistol from the pocket first, and draped it over her body. The girl eyed him with uncertainty, as if he were an alien from another planet. Most people wouldn't think it of him, but he could be considerate. It wasn't often and he knew that, but he could be. Ever since he had taken this young woman for himself, she was his responsibility. He was the one that needed to take care of her. How else was she going to survive out here? This unforgiving island would make a meal out of her within a day. He moved closer until he was right up against her and put his arm around her waist to provide even more warmth.

The coolness of the leather coat had made Scarlett colder, but once Vladimir had gotten closer, the warmth increased. She loathed that. His jacket reeked of body odor and the man himself didn't smell any better than when he had first gotten in the water. She thought about slipping out of his grasp once he was asleep just so she wouldn't feel like she was being smothered the entire night. But she wasn't sure if he was a light sleeper or not. What if he woke up? Would he think she was leaving him? He seemed paranoid about that issue earlier, so she probably shouldn't risk it. As she laid there, wrapped in the clutches of a lecherous murderer, she hoped that a time to flee would come. It had to. It just…had to. She didn't know how much more of him she could take.