A/N: Okay, I apologize for how late this came out. I meant to post this sooner, but I had gotten sick and didn't want to do anything. So, to make up for it, I made this chapter super long. Okay, I also didn't know a good place to divide this without leaving some parts hanging, so that's why I just rolled it all up into one. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! Thanks to the The Hobbit Diet for beta-ing and I want to wish a Happy New Year to everyone! :)
Disclaimer: I haven't written one of these since the first or second chapter, but I don't own Tomb Raider. I only own my OC, Scarlett, and I write all of this for the fun of it. And it's extremely fun!
Vladimir woke first the next morning. He inhaled deeply and raised his head to see the orange sun just starting to creep over the horizon. He glanced down at the girl ensnared in his arm and she was sound asleep. He'd rather not wake her. She looked so peaceful when she slept. In fact, since they were out here in the middle of the forest with no one around, what would be another hour of sleep? He rarely got in that extra hour that he always craved. The men in the village would get to work without him; or, at least, they had better. They'd probably have their own guesses as to where he was and what he was doing right now. He laid back down on the grass and closed his eyes again, as though he had just pressed the snooze button on an alarm clock, defiant to get out of bed.
"Vladimir! Stop it! Just stop it! Please!"
"I've missed you, though. And you've become so beautiful," Vladimir told her, going for her neck again. It had only been two years since he had last seen her, but she seemed to have grown up so much in that little bit of time, blossoming into a gorgeous eighteen-year-old with her round face, large doe-like eyes, and elegant neck.
She leaned away from him. "But I'm your sister! Don't you know how wrong this is?!" she cried, on the verge of tears.
"No one's going to find out, dear Anya," he caressed her cheek in an attempt to reassure her.
She slapped his hand away. "Go to hell!"
Vladimir shoved his sister down on the bed, shaking the mattress. "You will respect me, wretch. I was put in charge when Father died. Don't make me hurt you again."
"I wish you would," Anya hissed. "Then, I could turn you in and you'd go back to prison where you belong! I'd never have to look at your face again!"
Vladimir leaned over her threateningly and put a hand around her neck. "You better shut your fucking mouth. Nobody would believe you anyway."
"Go ahead! Do it! And then we'll see who's right!" she spat.
He growled and stormed out of the bedroom into the living area, slamming the door behind him. He had just been released from prison yesterday and this is how she welcomed him home?! With coldness and disrespect? And since when has she been so vocal about her feelings? Last time he had seen her, she was a meek, little mouse that wouldn't have dared to challenge him. Now, she was voicing her opinion, cursing him, and slapping him like he was the Devil. How had she grown so bold?
He scowled when he conjured up an answer: the neighbors. The goddamn neighbors have been putting these ideas in her head. Since both Mother and Father had died, the neighbors had been looking out for her, taking her under their wing, teaching her how to be independent. And probably telling her what a bad influence he was.
He opened a bottle of vodka taken from the cabinet and took a swig, glaring into the busy streets of Omsk out of the fifth-story window of the apartment complex. Khrushchyovka, that's they called this pathetic excuse of a building. It was too cramped and everyone lived on top of one another. The kitchen and bathrooms had to be shared with every-fucking-one on the same floor. Personal space was a thing unheard of. Luckily, all of the neighbors were currently out and about for the time being. Vladimir put down another shot and heard crying. Great, the bitch was crying again. What was it this time?
He slammed the bottle down onto the end table in aggravation, walked back to the bedroom, and threw the door open, ready to yell his lungs out. But what he saw had him taken aback.
Dark maroon blood was gushing from his sister's wrists and trickled down a pair of scissors clutched in her hands. No. No!
"What did you do, you bitch?!" He slapped her across the face, making her fall from the bed to the floor. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he began advancing towards her. She slinked closer to the wall in sync with his every step, cowering in fear of his rage. "I'm home one day and you already want to kill yourself?! Am I that horrible to be with?! I'm the only family you've got left and this is how you treat me?!"
She was stopped by the wall behind her and held onto the bloody scissors, as though they would defend her. He stood over her and snatched the tool from her grasp.
"I'm not going anywhere, you hear that?" he pointed it at her face. "You're mine and you will stay with me like you're supposed to!"
Anya curled up into a ball and sobbed uncontrollably. Vladimir was just like their father whenever he used to drink. It usually turned into a screaming match between their parents until one of them left the room, their mother crying or their father downright livid. On more than one occasion, both children would hear their parents arguing in the next room after they had gone to bed and then a slap would echo through the room. This was usually followed by silence and then quiet sobbing. That was when Vladimir would come over to Anya's cot and "comfort" her. The memories made her shudder. His lips on hers, her cheeks, her chest; fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties...And it wasn't like she could go to her parents for help. They had enough of their own troubles. So, when Vladimir had finally been sent to prison on account of thievery two years ago, she had begun to heal little by little. But now that he's returned, it was like taking ten steps backwards for her. She didn't know if she could cope with his advances again.
"I hate it when you're like this…" she sniffled, her eyes glued to the floor.
"Like what?!" he seized her forearm and got in her face. "You think this is angry?! You think I'm angry?! You haven't seen angry!" Vladimir stuck the blades of the scissors back into her wound. She wailed out in pain and he stopped. "Do yourself a favor and do a better job next time if I'm really so hard to be around," he scoffed and chucked the scissors off into a corner.
He turned on his heel to leave her in a crumpled heap of blood and tears, but he heard her soft voice whisper, "Maybe you'll do better next time too…"
Vladimir instantly spun around. "What was that?!"
Anya stared down at her slashed wrists, too frightened to look at him.
"Don't be shy. Out with it!" he trudged closer to her.
She narrowed her eyes. "You heard me. Maybe next time, you'll finish what you started and just kill me so I can be done with you."
Vladimir stared at her coldly. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I can't do this again!" she exploded. "I can't deal with you anymore! How am I supposed to find a husband or have a life if you never leave me alone?! When you're here, I feel like I'm on a leash. I'm not allowed to go out by myself, I can't have friends, I can't do anything but stay here while you run your filthy hands all over me and rape me!"
Vladimir viciously seized her delicate neck with his masculine hand. "Don't test me. Stop. Talking."
"No! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of you! I'm not your property," she screamed at his face and ripped his hand away from her. "So, either you leave or I will," she began walking towards the living area, but Vladimir pushed her back against the wall.
"And go where?! You have nowhere to go!"
"I'll move in with the neighbors permanently! I'll go anywhere, anywhere where you're not!"
"You'll do no such thing! I won't allow it!"
"Then I'd rather be DEAD!"
Vladimir banged the back of her head against the wall. "You take that back," he growled. She was pushing him closer towards the edge.
"If I have to live with you for the rest of my life, I'd rather you fuck my corpse every day. At least I won't be there," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom.
He smashed her head back into the wall, making a small, round indentation in it.
"How dare you," Vladimir narrowed his eyes. How could she disown her own brother?! Even prefer death than be with him?! That was a stab to his heart because she was all he had left in this world.
"Leave," Anya told him with a cough. "Someone will be back soon."
"No. You don't tell me what to do."
"Get. Out."
"I'm not leav—"
"Get OUT!" she screamed and slapped him across the face. Total shock came over him as he put his hand to his cheek. He looked at her and there was also a bit of shock in her eyes from what she had just done, but the main emotion displayed on her face was determination. She had meant it. She had meant to slap him and she wasn't sorry for it. That made his blood boil and his temper flared like a roaring fire. He rammed her into the apartment wall for a third time and pressed on her windpipe, constricting her airway.
"You're a downright bitch, you know that?!" With each word, his strength increased. "Any woman would be lucky to have me. And they'd show me some damn respect, unlike you with your smart mouth." He continued to squeeze and squeeze, despite her face turning purple. She grabbed at his face, trying to harm him in any way possible, but he pinned her arm back. He bashed her head again, making that indentation turn into a hole in the wall. She choked, unable to catch her breath. Her eyes were turning glassy, as if she were about to start crying. "Don't think you have any kind of say on what I can or can't do. I'm the one in control of this family."
He banged her head into the wall again. "I have the power."
He did it again. "And if I want you to stay here and love me, then you will stay here and fucking love me!"
He rammed her into the wall a final time and Anya went quiet. Her neck slightly lolled against his grip. Her eyes were motionless. They didn't try to find a route of escape. They weren't even filled with fear anymore. Vladimir released her and her entire body fell to the ground with a thud. He was waiting for her to have a coughing fit, but she was just…lying there.
What…happened? He furrowed his eyebrows and nudged her with his foot.
Nothing.
"Anya!"
Silence.
"Get up!"
He waited for even the slightest moan or whimper, but there was no response.
"ANYA!" He kicked her in the gut and chyme emitted from her mouth, but she was as limp as a doll. Was she…was she dead? No…she couldn't be! He hadn't even been choking her THAT hard.
"Goddammit! Look what you fucking made me do!" Vladimir cried. "This was your fault! Fuck, this was all your fault!" He kicked the body again. "All your fucking fault…" He groaned, crashing onto the bed and covering his stinging eyes. He hadn't meant for it to go that far. His head was spinning as he stared at the empty husk that was her corpse, taking note of the blue and purple handprints that were emerging on her neck beneath her dark, flowing hair. The neighbors would check up on her soon. He had to get out of here. He shot up from the bed and headed straight for the front door, only to find that the door knob was already rotating to the side. Oh, no. They would see. They would know it was him. They would—
A crow cawed like an alarm clock, startling Vladimir from his slumber. His eyes darted everywhere to search for the damnable thing that woke him. He looked in the tree above to see the black bird and growled. Damn bird! He would have shot at it, but he didn't want to wake the girl beside him.
He dragged his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes with a fist. He had that dream again, that damn dream. Why couldn't it have been a different one? Any other one? It still tugged at his heart, thinking about the murder of his sister. Of all the murders that he's committed in his lifetime, that particular one still gnawed at that shred of humanity in him. He had loved that girl with a passion. But it was her fault for pushing him too far. She had it coming. She deserved it.
He glanced down at the young woman snoozing beside him. What did it matter now, though? He had found someone to be with, someone he was fond of. And she was fond of him. Albeit, she wasn't the most beautiful female he's ever seen, but she was pretty enough. He favored her dark hair and innocent face. Craving to see more, he slowly lifted his coat from her naked figure and simply appreciated what the storms had brought him. Just seeing her fleshy appearance made the blood in his body course a little quicker. She had a delicate frame, which made overpowering her all the more thrilling. Her breasts were lovely, though a little small for his liking; not that he was complaining. His eyes drifted down her torso and he frowned upon seeing her slightly exposed ribs. He should probably feed her more. He placed his fingers on her ribcage and traced the bones down towards her center.
Scarlett frowned at a tickling sensation in her sleep and opened her eyes with heavy lids. She looked down to see Vladimir's fingers on her waist and knitted her eyebrows together in worry. She turned her head to look at him and he stared back. She returned to watching his fingers. There they were, just lying there like he was petting a companionable dog; man's best friend.
Scarlett heard him release a sigh and then felt a squeeze, followed by a slap on her rear end. Vladimir stood up and ordered her to do the same. He began to put on the rest of his clothes while Scarlett sat up. She squinted at the bright sunlight and rubbed her eyes. Never in her life was she a morning person. To her, that was the worst part of the day because the sun would usually only get brighter and the air hotter. She rose to her feet and a sharp, deep pain suddenly struck her side. She physically flinched and bent over slightly, grabbing at her waist. Had she slept in a strange position? Or was this probably from hunger since she hadn't eaten anything in two days? All she could do was ignore it for now and pray that she would get some food later to curb the pain.
She proceeded to get dressed and was putting on her pants when she began to see stars in her peripheral vision. Oh, no. She feared those dots, feared the sensations that accompanied them. They usually came if she worked too hard without eating enough food or if she had gotten an injection or done blood work at the doctor's office; pretty much anything that involved needles. This was not the time to become lightheaded. She blinked hard, desperately hoping the colorful dots would disappear, but they continued to remain like unwelcome guests. Then, to make matters worse, they began to multiply. They clouded her entire field of vision and she felt compelled to close both of her eyes, as if that would make her feel better. A cold sweat erupted on her back and the strength in her legs began to wane. She had to sit down before she actually collapsed.
Vladimir must have seen her trying to recline back into the grass because she sensed his large form approach her side and felt his hand wrap around her slender arm impatiently. She could tell that he ordered her to do something (most likely stand), but her ears were ringing so much that his voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel.
Just breathe, Scarlett. You need to breathe.
The colorful stars and the high-pitched note in her ears began to fade, much to her relief. Scarlett opened her eyes, feeling drenched in her own sweat. Just as she was feeling proud of herself for not fainting, out of nowhere, a hard slap swiftly came across her face as though she had been struck by a switch.
"What was that?!" Vladimir demanded. His voice wasn't fuzzy-sounding at all this time.
"I…" Scarlett gasped and gingerly laid a hand on her face, struggling to find words. She was still in shock that he slapped her so harshly for merely sitting down. Should she just tell him that she wasn't feeling well? Would he even care? Whilst trying to make a decision, she was not unaware of the newfound pain that was now pulsating in her cheek. In fact, it motivated her to voice her condition. Perhaps he would lay off the abuse if he knew that she wasn't starting the day off too well.
She began, "I don't feel—"
"Get. Up!" Vladimir pulled her up by her arm and pushed the ball he had made out of her clothes into her abdomen. She watched him as he went to wash his face in the pond, still feeling the sting of his slap like a knife that had cut clean through her cheek. He did not care how she felt or her well-being, and at that, she wanted to cry. God, she wanted to cry so badly that her eyes burned. All he wanted was her warm body to sleep next to and fuck every night. It stung, especially since she tried to get him to open up last night and actually have a conversation.
Once his face was cleared of any dirt and left-over sleep, Vladimir grabbed the rifle that was lying on the ground beside the burnt-out campfire and eyed her with impatience. Scarlett stared back at him with her bottom lip poking out in despair. Why did he have to be so cruel? Why couldn't he have just given her a little lenience for once?
Vladimir motioned his head towards the forest, indicating for her to follow. Rolling her lips inwards and biting them hard, she hung her head low and trailed behind him, her morale at an all-time low as they made their way back to the mountain village.
As Scarlett trailed behind him, she could feel just how weak she was. She thought yesterday's walk to the pond was difficult, but this one was damn near impossible. It made her realize that within a night, her condition had worsened. Her knees were quivering under her own weight; and that was when she was standing still. Her stomach growled along the way, yearning for anything that would grant her calories. She prayed that Vladimir would slow down enough so that she could catch her breath, if only for a minute, but he wouldn't. His stride was at least twice as great as hers since he was so tall. Scarlett was afraid those stars would reappear in her vision for a second time. Looking down at her feet, she kept telling herself to put one foot in front of the other. She would make it wherever they were heading, which she guessed was back to the shack where she had stayed before; the place with the mattress. Ah, the mattress: that giant cushion that barely supported her weight and kept her from sleeping on the hard ground. The thought of crashing onto it made her put a little more pep in her stride. The faster she walked, the sooner she could rest.
They were getting closer to the village now because they had finally reached the cobblestone pathways and the ruins of other huts. It was almost like stepping back in time to a simpler age, when people lived off of the land and in makeshift houses. She had now considered electricity to be a luxury. What she wouldn't give to take a hot shower and eat a hot meal right now! Voices yelling and shouting in the distance made her snap out of her fantasizing, however. Vladimir sped up even faster, leaving her in the dust. Scarlett hurried after him, feeling much like a foal having to trot every few seconds to keep up with its mother.
When they reached the top of the hill, they saw a group of scavengers surrounding a red Japanese-looking archway. One of the men had a noose fastened around his neck and another man was holding the opposite end of the rope arranged over the archway. What the hell was going on? A public execution?
Vladimir suddenly came to a halt beside a tree, making Scarlett nearly run right into his back. He removed the rifle from his shoulder with a sigh of relief, which didn't go unnoticed. Had he been in pain all this time? Scarlett's eyebrows came together when he leaned the gun against the tree and turned to her.
"Wait here," he ordered in a strict tone, pointing to the ground. She said nothing in reply, only nodding. He turned his back on her and approached the crowd of people from behind. He pulled out his pistol, raised it to the sky, and fired a shot, startling everyone. Once he held all of their attention, he shouted, "What the fuck's going on here?!"
One person pointed his thumb over his shoulder, "This asshole thinks he owns the place! We finished the bridge yesterday and he's still goin' around tellin' everybody to fork over their rations like he's the king or somethin'!"
The captive behind him shouted, "Oh, piss off, you dick wad! There's always more work to do and Vlad put me in charge whenever he's not here." He looked to Vladimir for validation. "These bastards wouldn't get off their lazy asses and work this morning!" He went back to eyeing the crowd with rage. "You don't work, you don't eat!"
Scarlett observed Vladimir bring his hand to the back of his neck in an attempt to massage himself. Obviously, he was not in the mood to deal with rabble-rousing this morning. He had been nasty to her ever since she woke up and then he hadn't uttered a word to her until they had arrived here. What was going on with him?
Vladimir switched to rubbing his temple. With a flick of his hand, he ordered, "Just fucking hang him."
Everyone cheered as the person was lifted from the ground. He began screaming, dangling by the rope around his neck.
Under the tree, Scarlett's jaw dropped in horror. Perhaps the man had abused his power, but she didn't think that he deserved to be hanged. He didn't deserve to die. She felt pity for him as she watched him attempt to gasp for breath. His face began to turn red and then purple. She wanted the rest of the scavengers to stop this, to let the man go free. She would have even tried to stop it herself, but the men would just shove her back for trying to interfere. She had no say-so in this. Unless…
She glanced down to her left. The rifle stood there, leaning against the tree. Maybe she could shoot the rope.
Pshh, what are the odds of that? You need to grab that gun and run like hell! Screw this guy, he's the distraction you need to get out of here!
But she had to do something. He was choking, his face was blue now and his legs continued to run in place.
But her guise of being a helpless, little girl would be blown. Everyone would know that she knew how to use a firearm. And she had a feeling that wouldn't sit too well with Vladimir.
Scarlett, a man is DYING for Christ's sake! You need to, at least, try to stop this! You couldn't stop Vladimir from pummeling those guys yesterday, but you can save this one. You know it's the right thing to do! It may be suicide, but it's the right thing.
Scarlett pathetically huffed at her predicament: she could try to shoot the rope and risk it all or she could run and leave the man to die; like a coward. But really, who was she trying to kid? She was a coward. She had been too afraid to run all this time and she had let Vladimir, this monster of a man, do whatever he wanted with her. And he was just going to keep dragging her lower and lower into the metaphorical pits of hell until she was no more than an animal with a corrupted mind, same as him. But by that point, why would she still even want to be alive? So unless she did something bold right now, she was going to end up as a slave for the rest of her life. And that was not acceptable to her. This fear and hesitation she kept experiencing needed to stop. She had to make a stand. She knew she was going to have to break away from Vladimir sooner or later. Maybe that time was now.
Whether or not she was about to dig her own grave, Scarlett grabbed the rifle. It felt a lot heavier than the last time she held it. She brought it up to her uninjured shoulder (she was right-handed, thankfully), looked through the scope, and lined her sights up. The struggling man looked like he couldn't hold on much longer. His face was a sickly bluish-purple now. Scarlett grimaced. This was going to be loud. And what if she missed? He would still be fighting to hold on to that last smidgen of life.
Just shoot! Shoot now before he dies!
Scarlett shakily let the air rush out of her nose at a furious rate and when there was nothing left in her lungs, she squeezed the trigger, spawning a loud pop.
All of the scavengers' faces fell when they saw a gunshot had penetrated the man's forehead.
"What the hell just happened?" one asked, very confused.
In the shade of the tree, Scarlett's face drained of color. Her stomach plummeted to her feet. She dropped the rifle as she began to tremor all over. She didn't even feel the gun crush her toes in her boots.
Oh, God…no. I just…killed someone. I…Holy fuck, I just killed somebody! I was trying to save him! I didn't mean to…Oh, God!
What had she done?! She had taken the life of another person. She! Scarlett Glockner! Scarlett Glockner, the girl who felt guilty if she didn't feed her dog on time, had just murdered a living person! She couldn't believe it. It was a complete accident, of course, but still…He was alive a few seconds ago and now he…wasn't. Murders that she had seen on television shows, in movies, and video games were nothing compared to this. Those were fake. Reading an obituary in the newspaper or attending a funeral were a little sadder than the media entertainment because those were about a real person who led an actual life. Witnessing a murder (or multiple murders) as she had done in the past couple of days was enough to give a person PTSD for the rest of their life. Actually committing a murder…Oh, God. She was going to hell. There was no doubt about it, even if it was an accident. She could never take it back, could never undo it. He was gone forever. She couldn't believe how effortless it had been too; just the squeeze of a trigger. All she had to do was make a small pulling motion with her finger and she had the power to kill. She had taken animals' lives before, but this...this was a lot different.
"Hey…did she…did she kill him?! She's got a gun at her feet!" another scavenger pointed an accusing finger at her, snapping her out of her traumatic trance. The rest of the men turned their heads. Some pulled out their weapons and aimed them at her. She shook her head in shock, mouth agape at being on the receiving end of bows strung with arrows, pistols, and assault weapons. She had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. She was outnumbered at least fifteen to one.
Scarlett saw Vladimir storming his way back towards her, mumbling profanities under his breath. Oh no. He was coming for her. He was going to punish her. She had killed a man and now she possessed a weapon. Wait, this was it! Time for her to do what she's been dreaming of for three days now!
Suddenly fueled with newfound adrenaline, Scarlett retrieved the gun at her feet and readied it quickly. She didn't want to have to pull the trigger again, but if Vladimir was going to come after her, she wouldn't have a choice. She pointed the muzzle at the Russian and gave him a hard look, her jaw clenched.
Vladimir halted when he saw the firing end of the rifle aimed at his chest. He glared at the girl through narrowed eyes, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing.
"Drop the gun," he ordered in a low voice. She kept a tight grip on the firearm and didn't move. "You hear what I said?!" he shouted once more. "Drop the gun and get ov—"
"Oh, c'mon, Vladimir!" somebody groaned in annoyance. "Just go up and take it from her. She's not gonna shoot. Look how scared she is. She's bluff—"
Scarlett shot at the ground between the man's feet, making him jump back and fall on his rear end in surprise. The others around him recoiled as if a snake had been thrown at them. She cocked the weapon again and firmly held it against her shoulder. Proving that she wasn't totally clueless when it came to guns, the men hesitated to open fire. She could shoot any one of them next.
Scarlett backed away slowly. Her ears were still ringing from the first gunshot. Vladimir took a step towards her and she retreated further.
"Stay. Back." She could hardly hear the words leaving her mouth. A part of her was screaming at herself, demanding that she heed Vladimir's orders lest she wanted to greatly suffer. What the hell was she even doing, going against him? It felt wrong. But the other half of her knew that obeying him would get her nowhere. She shouldn't listen to him. She bit her lower lip, trying to stop the tears from gathering. She didn't want to kill him. He may have done horrible things to her, but she didn't want to kill anybody again. She couldn't turn into a murderer. Not like him. That kind of guilt has already cut too deep into her heart.
She continued to back away, but Vladimir had had enough of this. He pointed his pistol at her and aimed right for her head. Hopefully, it would be enough to scare her into surrendering.
"Drop the gun, shlyukha."
The girl shook her head and sniffled, like she was about to cry. He knew that she was scared to death. And she had every right to be because he was going to chastise her like she had never been chastised before if she didn't do what he said.
"I said 'drop the gun'!" he shouted.
"No," she whispered so quietly that he could barely hear her.
Who the hell did she think she was, defying him like this?! Has she lost her goddamn mind?!
"Now!" Vladimir gripped his handgun hard. She only continued to stare at him, like a deer staring back at a hunter through the scope, daring him to shoot.
With a snarl, Vladimir finally pulled the trigger and Scarlett swore she felt the wind of the bullet graze her hair. She froze in total amazement. It had been so close, just a couple of hairs from piercing her skull and killing her instantly. There would've been no way she could have stopped it if he was on target. She wanted to shout for joy because she narrowly escaped death, but there was no time for a celebration. It was time to run!
Scarlett turned on her heel and began to descend down the hill as fast as she could. She heard Vladimir bellow out another curse and then a second gunshot went off. She flinched as some bark off of a tree shattered near her.
Faster! she commanded her body. She needed to run faster, to get away and never see any of these monsters again.
Something suddenly struck her backside hard and the surprise of pain made her lose her footing. She tumbled down the steep hill, rolling through the grass and dirt. She veered off to the right and crashed into a fallen tree branch about as big around as her wrist. Her side and back exploded with pain, but the collision did not bring her to a halt. She attempted to stop herself from rolling away any further by grabbing onto a few spare branches lying on the ground, but none were strong enough to stop her momentum. The way her vision kept going round and round in circles looked like that of a movie that was filmed with a shaky camera.
A few seconds later, a tree large enough to have its roots visible above the ground was ahead and Scarlett stretched out her hand to latch onto one of its wooden extensions. She kept sliding down until her grip prevented her from descending any further, though she was pretty sure her elbow popped from the sudden jolt of her weight coming to a complete stop. She breathed heavily as she grabbed at her backside. There was a tender spot in the lower region. Someone must have thrown a rock or something at her to make her fall because if it had been a bullet, she absolutely wouldn't be able to move right now. She went to stand up, but pain exploded through her body.
Shouts and hollers weren't that far behind. Would the men bring her back to Vladimir or just shoot her? Or…would they do things to her?
No, none of that must happen. She had to keep going.
She crawled to the tree trunk and embraced it to pull herself up. The screaming was much closer now. Scarlett saw one of them sprinting towards her with a machete and that was enough incentive for her to keep running.
She dashed further into the forest, breathing so heavily that she felt like a horse with a bad case of the heaves. Her lungs burned. She couldn't outrun these guys forever. She needed to find a place to hide. Checking behind her, she saw no one and dove into a nearby bush. She curled into a ball and hugged her rifle to her chest like a frightened child clutching a teddy bear.
A few seconds later, men's charging footsteps came to a slowing halt. Scarlett backed further into the bush as they stopped right in front of it.
"Damn! How far did she go? I thought we had her. It looked like she could barely walk."
"Yeah," another said, hands on his knees and out of breath. "She couldn't have gotten far, though."
"Humph. She's probably hiding somewhere. We'll keep looking. I'm not too much in a hurry to get back anyway. But if we don't find her, maybe the wolves will," the man chuckled.
Scarlett covered her mouth to prevent a shriek from emitting. There are fucking wolves out here?! she internally screamed. Great; another thing she was going to have to worry about.
"Heh, yeah," the second man laughed along. "I'd like to see her last a night out here by herself. But if we do find her, maybe we could get a little somethin'-somethin' started," he smirked and raised his arms above his head, fist-pumping at alternating times as if he were dancing.
"Oh, shut it. I don't think anyone's going to be in the partying mood for a while with Vladimir pissed off. I guarantee that somebody else is going to die within the next few hours. Just make sure it's not you."
"Whatever, man. I might go hunting for the next few days whether Vladimir's cheesed or not. Need to get away from the drama."
"Sounds pretty nice, actually. Need a hunting buddy?"
"I cooould…" The second man stretched out the second word and both of them chuckled. Scarlett watched them saunter away in the direction she had been running before releasing the breath that she had been subconsciously holding in.
She was still alive. Praise the Lord, she had somehow survived all of that! It was nothing short of a miracle. It had to be. But her rejoicing was put on hold as more voices emerged from behind her. She sulked, not wanting to turn around and see more rugged men scrutinizing the area for her. She supposed she was going to have to sit here until the coast was clear. If she heard nothing for a considerable amount of time, she would leave the brush and search for some kind of shelter. She certainly didn't want to be out here wandering around the woods blindly at night, especially if there were predators on the prowl.
Vladimir walked with a group of five Solarii through the forest. One of the men affirmed that he was a tracker and was able to determine the girl's path immediately after she disappeared. But after an hour or so, he claimed the trail ran cold. Vladimir was fuming. Firstly, because this half-wit "tracker" was an incompetent waste of oxygen. Secondly, because the girl had shown him up. If she ever came into his presence again, he would kill her. Oh, he would kill her pretty, little ass for betraying him.
He couldn't understand it, though. After everything he had done for her, why would she do this to him? He had spared her life, fed her his food, kept her safe, made love to her— overall, risking his life for her — and she repaid him by leaving?! Even though she knew what would happen to her if she did? And she even had the nerve, the downright nerve, to point a gun at him and threaten to kill him!
On the other hand, he knew that this wasn't entirely her fault. He had let his guard down. She had made herself so trustworthy in a short amount of time and he had fallen for it. Dmitri had warned him about this; that she would either try to escape or kill him. So why hadn't he seen it coming? Deep down, Vladimir knew the answer, but didn't want to admit it to himself: he had been thinking more with his dick than his mind for the last couple of days. He had been so wrapped up in his own lust.
He shook his head at the thoughts tearing down his self-esteem. This was not his fault. She had betrayed him! Deceived him! She had put on this act right from the very beginning. Ever since she had given him that smile on that first night, she had plotted to make him a fool. She knew that he was desperate for affection, that he was rash. And like an idiot, he had fallen for her act! How could he have been so stupid?! He released a groan and ran a hand angrily through his dark hair as the same thoughts kept circulating through his head like a violent vortex. He couldn't seem to get rid of them and they only served to make him more irate.
"I can't believe you didn't have her tied up, Vlad," one of the men said, rummaging through a shrub with the butt of his rifle. "I mean, did you just forget or did you, like, actually trust her?"
"Shut up," the Russian scowled. He knew he had been foolish. He didn't need people throwing it back in his face.
"Yeah," the person to his right added, "she must've buttered you up real good if you didn't even feel the need to tie her up anymore. What did she do to get that privilege? Suck your dick every night?"
"Shut. Up." Vladimir repeated more forcefully. The girl wasn't even like that. She didn't parade herself around and spread her legs for every man she saw. Yes, he had called her a whore on numerous occasions, but she was his whore. Only his. She wasn't promiscuous at all, just an ordinary girl. There was nothing special about her that stood out, but she was different somehow; sweet, innocent. She had made him feel something more, something deeper. A longing. Like for a friend. No, not a friend. That would be too close of a relationship. More like…a companion; a pet. A very faithful one that he could cherish. It was a relationship not based on communication, but on mere presence. When he had wanted her, she was there; ready to give him her full attention. He hadn't wanted the relationship to end.
But apparently, she had never wanted to be with him in the first place. She had played the part of this loveable pet and then when the chance came for her to show her true colors, she turned into a vicious canine and had bitten his hand, the hand that had given her everything. Just like…her. He thought of the dream he had earlier this morning. Anya. His sister had once been sweet and lovely, but then had turned into a bitch too. The scowl on his face became even more vicious. Women…They were fickle, deceitful, ungrateful. They never knew how good they had it. The grass was always greener on the other side. And then, they would always have the damned nerve to say that the man was the bad guy in the relationship. The bitches could never admit that they were the problem. Maybe that was the real reason why Father Mathias never allowed any women to live on this island. They just got in the way and caused unnecessary drama.
"Ha ha ha, she played you like a fiddle, you poor bastard," the Solarii closest to him continued mocking. "And you fell for her sweet—"
His sentence was cut short by Vladimir putting a bullet through his head. The man instantly dropped to the ground. Everyone halted and turned around, alarmed at the close proximity of the gunshot. Vladimir aimed his gun at the men that remained, prepared to shoot the next one whom irritated him.
"Shut up and find the bitch, you worthless cunts!"
"Okay, okay," another scavenger held his hands out in defense. "We're on it."
"NOW!" he roared. They ran from him like he had set their pants on fire. He watched them disappear further into the woods, the lines between his brows deepening. He was glad they were gone. It was probably better for them too. If they stayed, he'd most likely kill all of them before the search was over. He had possessed this level of ferocity every now and then, either because someone was being an ass or because he needed to blow off steam, but this was the first time that he had been played in this way. And he did not care for it one bit. The girl would pay. She. Would. Pay.
There were footsteps here and faint voices there. The bushes rustled. A squirrel jumped from one branch to another in the tree above. A deer pawed at the ground with its hoof, snorted, and then bolted. The sound of a rifle projecting a high caliber bullet through the air and into the head of a hanging man kept echoing in Scarlett's mind. She listened to these noises for hours, focusing mainly on the gunshot. She couldn't stop hearing the sound nor get rid of the image of that purple, gored face every time she closed her eyes. Her hands were so clammy that she swore that she would become dehydrated just by sweating through her hands alone. Every second was like an eternity hiding out here. She swore that with every person that passed through her field of vision, one of them would grab her with rough hands, drag her out of the vegetation, and put a bullet through her body. But the minutes went by. Men patrolled the area, sometimes in small groups, sometimes on their own. And each time they would get in close range of her, she would tense up and cover her mouth for fear that she would breathe too loudly, whimper, or God forbid, sneeze. Only when they were out of ear shot would Scarlett allow herself to go lax, not realizing until then that the bodily tension was wearing her down. And then, she was left alone with her thoughts once again, which she quickly understood was not good at all.
Tick. Tock. Gunshot. She bit her knuckle at that ongoing sequence. Tick. Tock. Gunshot.
Tick. Tock. You're in shock, Scarlett. Snap out of it!
But I KILLED somebody…
There's nothing you can do about it now. You can't shut down. Not now. Not when you've come this far.
Knowing that that stupid authoritative voice of hers was right, she wiped away the tears that had left clean trails down her dirty cheeks. She had to get far away from people. That was the number one priority. There was nothing she could do for the dead man now. She had tried to save him. Her intentions were in the right place. That had to count for something, right? It was just an unfortunate circumstance, an accident. God forgave accidents. He knew she was a good person. At least, she hoped she still was. She couldn't really tell who she was anymore. She used to be Scarlett Glockner: college student, loyal friend, and loving daughter. Now, she was a murderer, a coward, and a…slut; a completely different person. No one would recognize her now. Not her family, not her friends…well, those friends that were still alive. Scarlett felt hot tears leak out of her eyes again at the thought of Zoey. Was Zoey even alive at this point? Scarlett wondered if she should go looking for her.
No, Scarlett. She'd want you to get help. Don't go looking for her on your own. That'd just be another way to get killed. Where would you even start? The village full of men? You'd go up and say, 'Hi, don't mind me. I'm just looking for my friend, Zoey. Have you seen her?' You'd be the biggest idiot on the planet and get a bullet in your skull or worse. Just get away, Scarlett. FAR away. As far as you can go.
Once it had been quiet for a considerable amount of time and sensing that nighttime was not going to come any slower, Scarlett crawled out of the shrubbery. All of her limbs were stiff and sore. Grunting, she went to stand up, but began to see black specks in her eyes. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees. She must have stood up too quickly.
"Okay. It's okay. You're okay," she encouraged herself, attempting to stay positive.
The dots began to recede. She fully stood up, carefully slung her rifle around her torso, and started to walk forward. She was tired, hungry, and wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a nap.
From a distance, she heard a person talking. Shit.
"We searched this area a hundred times already."
Scarlett backed up with huge eyes, trying to determine the direction of the voice, but tripped and landed in another shrub. A branch scraped her arm.
The person continued to complain, "C'mon, man. It's getting late and we're, like, the last ones out here. Can we just go back now? She's probably long gone and I'm hungry."
"Dude, I've actually stopped looking hours ago. We're just killing time now. We don't wanna go back to camp and have Vladimir chew our asses out because we didn't search long enough, now do we?"
"I guess not."
A thick branch with leaves blocked Scarlett's view of the men. Thankfully, they hadn't seemed to have heard her little mishap. They passed her hiding place and began talking again.
"Look, we'll make another round and call it quits for tonight. Once Vladimir cools off, he won't give two shits about the girl anymore. The island will probably take care of her anyway."
The first man changed the topic. "Think anybody's cooking tonight?"
"Dunno. It's probably going to rain, though. Clouds are gathering over there," his companion pointed at the sky above. Scarlett gazed up and grimaced. It looked like it was going to be a pretty nasty downpour with the darkening clouds looming ahead. And she was going to be caught in the thick of it unless these guys hurried their asses up and moved on so she could find shelter in time.
"You know what would be good right now? A nice steak."
"Or a thick, juicy burger on a toasted bun. With crispy fries and a beer in a frosted mug."
"Aw, damn. Stop it. You're gonna make me cry."
Scarlett wanted to bawl too. Her stomach twisted itself around at the mention of delectable food. It made an audible growl and she practically punched her abdomen to silence it. Scarlett held her breath for fear of being discovered, but the scavengers continued on with their daydreaming.
"Or a pizza," he continued, putting Scarlett and his partner through more agony. "With a cheese-stuffed crust."
"And ice cream for dessert."
"Or warm doughnuts."
"Oh, yeahhh." Scarlett imagined the guy had drool sliding down his chin. "You know what would be better than all of that? Chocolate cake."
Scarlett wanted to cover her ears. Why would they do this to themselves? Why torture their salivary glands when they didn't know the next time they would eat any of that?
Their footsteps began to fade and she waited a couple of minutes before poking her head out to check around again. It was quiet. She crawled out on her hands and knees. That was really close. Maybe she should stick to the shrubbery or, at least, always designate a nearby tree as cover incase any more people come within hearing distance. It would be very unfortunate, or even her downfall, if she fell into their clutches again because she had been acting careless. She had imagined that she would have been done with worrying about these people once she escaped, but that couldn't be further from the truth now. She was going to have to be just as cautious as before, perhaps even more.
A short while later, Scarlett came across what appeared to be a small cave. She hurried to it, desperate to get out of the now drizzling rain, and peered inside. It seemed deserted. Checking the floor for animal droppings and finding none, she deemed it safe to sleep in for the night. The idea of building a fire came to mind, but the amount of effort from gathering materials to exerting enough energy to create a spark sounded like an awful lot. Who knew if there was actually any flint around here anyway? And even if she were to get one started, it would probably give away her position easily. So all in all, she wasn't going to be constructing one tonight.
Scarlett laid her gun down on the cave floor and took in her surroundings. The entrance was severely bothering her. What if someone or something saw her during the night? The men said that there were wolves out here. She had only ever seen wolves once in her life and that was at the zoo. And from behind a fence. She thought they were beautiful creatures, but she wouldn't want to see one up close. If she did, however, she probably wouldn't think they'd be so beautiful then. She wanted some kind of door, a barrier for protection and concealment.
Scarlett went back outside and spotted a giant branch full of needles lying on the ground next to a huge pine tree. She grabbed the end of it and pulled. The muscles in her legs screamed at her to stop, but she cursed back at them and hauled the branch in front of the cave entrance using all of her strength. Just as she made it inside, the rain began to come down harder. Scarlett let go of the branch, dusted her hands off, and scrutinized it. The amount of needles was so plentiful that no one would suspect anybody in this cave if they casually glanced at it. It would have to do for tonight. She laid down and stretched out, knowing her muscles were sighing with sweet relief. Replaying the events of the day in her head, she still couldn't believe what she had done. She had finally escaped, but not without paying a price. The man she had shot was probably a douchebag anyway, but still, she had taken his life, his ability to draw breath. It was wrong.
It was raining extremely hard outside now. Scarlett could see the raindrops flying sideways. The only time she had seen it rain like that was during a hurricane. When one of those occurred back home in Mississippi during the late summer months, her family would have to board up the windows, secure anything they had kept outside, and stock up on canned goods and water. The sky would turn a wicked black and the rain would fall down in sheets. Sometimes, the wind would blow so hard that it would uproot trees and sling debris all the way across the neighborhood. She usually didn't sleep well during those nights because of the booming thunder and because she was worried about flooding, the roof over her head being swept off, or a big tree falling and crushing her home in two. And she could tell that this night wasn't going to be much different than one of those with regards to sleep. She watched the rain descend and let her mind wander.
How did the rest of the men fare in this weather? Did they have a cave to hole up in or did they just take shelter in those outdated huts with leaky roofs? Speaking of leaky roofs, Scarlett wondered if Vladimir had fixed that hole in his shack yet or was it still—
Scarlett's gut lurched and she banged her head against the ground in punishment. No, stop! Don't think about him!
Rolling over with her back to the cave entrance, she placed an arm under her head and stared into the darkness, listening to the sound of the rain echoing off of the stone walls. She wanted to close her eyes, thinking about how this would be the first night that she spent here on this island without being terrorized before going to sleep. She deserved to have, at least, a good twelve hours of rest. But with the rush of finally being on her own and the act of becoming an accidental murderer today, it was hardly likely that she would be able to get an ounce of sleep tonight. Her mind was going to keep on reeling with everything that's occurred until she crashed from exhaustion. And she did not want to be out in the middle of the forest when that happened. She needed to rest. Even if she only closed her eyes.
Staring into the darkness of the posterior of the cave, she began to count down from one hundred like her mother had always told her to do whenever she couldn't sleep or if she had a nightmare when she was younger. It was a way to keep her mind active, yet dull enough to make her body relax and lull it into unconsciousness without even realizing it.
She kept counting down and by the time she reached zero for a fourth time, she was getting agitated from insomnia. If she was at home, she normally would have begun reading a book or watching a late-night sitcom at this point. But this wasn't home. She didn't have anything to occupy herself and she was vulnerable prey to her own thoughts. She had to keep them at bay, otherwise they would break her and tear her down with feelings of guilt and paranoia.
Maybe she was just trying too hard. If she could convince her mind that it didn't have to go to sleep and could just lay there and relax, it would make her feel more at ease. No pressure; just lean back against the cave wall and watch the rain come down. If she wanted to sleep, then great; if not, oh well. She sat up, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest, watching the water fall. The drops falling into the puddles at the cave entrance made a very tranquil sound that gave her an almost comforting feeling. She liked the bloop bloop noise. And after what felt like hours of restlessness, the water drops did convince her to fall into a light sleep, for which she was unknowingly grateful.