The sound of heavy boots against the downstairs floor sent Yao eyes snapping wide open. He shot out of the bundle of blankets, an ache searing through his head as he did so. He glanced at the boarded up window, noting that there wasn't any daylight coming through the wood's tiny crevices. Ivan must be leaving around now for his 'nightly errands'. The sound of the door unlatching and opening rang in Yao's ears. He was being left alone again, the thought causing panic to sprout in his chest.

Yao scrambled out of bed and ran out to the stairway, the world tumbling and turning in sickening swaying motions, so much that Yao had to hold onto the stairway banister to keep balance.

'Wait!' he yelled weakly, his head throbbing as he stumbled down the stairs.

Ivan stood still at the door, head turned to Yao with his brows slightly furrowed. Yao stopped at the foot of the stairs, breathless and unsure what he was even trying to do. He had rushed here almost on pure instinct, but not to escape — he knew that was futile. Rather, it was a feeling of not wanting to be left here, alone in this rotten smelling prison. He had spent enough nights in this place, cold and surrounded by nothing but dusty broken furniture and the knowledge that severed bodies rested here with him. He wanted a different kind of escape, a kind where he could return to something familiar, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. The night breeze lingered in from the open door, teasing Yao's neck as he longed for the fresh air and the open sky.

'Please…' Yao said, voice unsteady. 'Don't leave me here.'

Ivan's eyes gazed back coldly, unfeeling and clinical in the way they studied him, his eyes travelling down to Yao's bandaged wrist. Yao shivered.

'You should get back to bed,' Ivan spoke softly. 'Your wound hasn't healed yet.' He turned back to the open door. 'I'll be back in a few hours.'

'No!' Yao lurched forward, grabbing the trail of Ivan's white scarf. Ivan flinched, tugging the scarf away, but Yao held on tenaciously, taking hold of the sleeve of Ivan's coat as well. 'You can't! You can't just leave me locked up in here!' Yao felt tears well up in his eyes, an overflow of bottled up frustration threatening to spill. 'Please! Just take me with you! I won't try to escape! I promise!'

Ivan looked down at Yao, his expression stoic but his eyes gleaming in a way that made Yao's stomach twist and turn. Frantic, he gripped the sleeve tighter, as if it would somehow keep Ivan anchored here. 'I…I can help you!' Yao said. 'Whatever it is you need to get done, I can help! Carrying bodies, cutting them up even! Just... please…' Yao burned his eyes into Ivan's, as if this could somehow convince him better. 'Don't leave me here.'

Ivan kept his gaze on Yao, a smile breaking out onto his lips. 'Ochi chernye… You flatter me!' Ivan chuckled, prying away Yao's hands and walking down the hallway to open a closet door. He pulled out a pair of boots — similar to his own — and a black parka. He handed them to Yao, who stood there with his eyes wide in surprise. 'Today you and I work together! You can put to practice those techniques I showed you, da? And I'm sure you'll learn plenty of new things, too!'

Yao accepted the boots and parka, a hesitant smile of his lips — although he really had to wonder if joining Ivan on his 'nightly errands' was such a good idea after all.

'This is exciting, da?' Ivan hummed eagerly, slinging his heavy bag over the shoulder as Yao slipped on the boots. Yao zipped up the parka and stepped out with Ivan, the cool night air caressing his face. His boots grated roughly against the soles of his feet when he walked, but Yao didn't particularly mind. It was almost pitch black outside, the ground barely illuminated by moonlight. Yao guessed they were far out from the city, only able to make out a dirt path beneath his feet, and a tree line somewhere in the distance. No one could ever hear him scream from here, Yao thought uneasily.

Ivan led him to a black pick-up truck, opening the passenger seat door for Yao. Yao stepped in, the inside of the car surprisingly fresh and clean smelling, and waited for Ivan to get into the driver's seat. He turned to Yao and chuckled, perhaps enthralled with having company this time around. Yao laughed weakly, not sure what to expect from tonight. But whatever it was, at least he wasn't wasting away in that rotten house.

The drive was long, Yao staring into the darkness outside of his window, streetlights eventually beginning to dot the side of the road. The car was silent, only the hum of the engine filling it. Yao did not ask where they were going, or who Ivan was planning to kill today. He feared that by doing so he might stir the beast that lurked behind Ivan's placid expression, and so he stayed quiet.

After what must have been at least an hour's drive, Ivan pulled up the car at a dingy looking motel. Yao gulped, the place looking as if it had come straight out of a horror film. The motel sign flickered on and off, dimly illuminating a pale yellow building, paint peeling off in places. He turned to look at Ivan, who pulled out a small piece of paper to glance at it before promptly putting it away.

Ivan opened the car door and stepped out, making his way to the back to pick up his bag. He approached Yao's side of the car and tapped on his window.

'Come on.' A gentle smile crept onto Ivan's lips.

Yao shook his head. 'I think I'll stay in here.' He had only wanted a change of scenery, some fresh air, not more blood on his hands.

'You said you would help me…' Ivan opened the car door and pouted playfully, although Yao knew jokes were more than just that with Ivan. 'Are you the kind who breaks promises, Yao?'

'N-no. Of course not.'

'Then step out.' Lilac eyes burned into Yao's, and he couldn't help but obey, gripping the ends of his over-sized sleeves nervously as he did so.

'Good, myshka.' Ivan pat his shoulder, Yao feeling just the slightest bit unnerved that he had taken such a tone with him, but too uncertain, too afraid, to make any comment about it. 'Now we go,' Ivan chirped.

Yao followed him up the stairs of the motel porch, towards a door with the number '4' painted onto it. Ivan stopped in front of it and knelt down, taking a pin out and working it into the lock. After a moment of silence, there was a faint click. Ivan stood up and gently opened the door, Yao hesitantly following him in.

The room inside was dark, the air reeking of cigarette smoke and beer, moonlight streaming in through an open window to outline the silhouette of an armchair. Yao could hear a quiet snoring emanating from it, and held his breath in fear of being heard. A hand locked onto his shoulder, causing Yao to nearly jump in place.

'Listen,' Ivan murmured. Yao stilled. A pitter patter of footsteps approaching them. They turned towards the sound, a small frail child standing in front of them. A young girl of no more than five years old, her skin pale and sallow. Big, round eyes gazed at them apprehensively.

'Moya solnyshka,' Ivan whispered softly as he approached the girl — who to Yao's surprise, did not flinch or back away. Her wide eyes softened, gazing at Ivan with more fondness than fear. 'Go back to sleep,' Ivan crooned as he guided the girl back into the room she had come from. 'Everything will be different tomorrow morning. But you have to stay in your room. Don't come out until morning, da?'

Yao watched silently, mystified by the child's docility around Ivan. As she returned to her room, his eyes caught a shadow of a bruise on the little girl's forearm. More purple blemishes covered her legs, the back of her fragile neck. Ivan closed the bedroom door behind her, glancing at Yao with a tender expression he had not seen in him before.

'Let's get to work, shall we?' Ivan murmured softly, smiling weakly as he led Yao towards the sleeping man in the armchair. Yao felt his pulse quicken, anticipating the sight of blood once again, his breaths starting to become heavier and more laboured.

Perhaps having perceived this, Ivan chuckled quietly. 'Relax, myshka.' He set his bag down and rummaged through it. 'We don't want to wake him up just yet, da?' He pulled out a small cloth and rope. He threw the rope at Yao. 'Tie his arms and legs up. I'll make sure he keeps still.'

Yao caught the rope with clammy hands, shakily wrapping the rope around the man's socked feet first and tying it into a firm knot. The man shifted, slowly rousing from his sleep, but Yao continued. He lifted up the man's hands, tying the rope around them as well. The man's eyes fluttered open, but before he could even comprehend what was happening, Ivan stuffed his mouth with the cloth. The man writhed and struggled in the armchair, his yells nothing more than muffled noises. Ivan lifted the man up from the chair and threw him onto the floor, toppling over a beer bottle off the coffee table as he did so. The bottle shattered, the sound piercing the air.

Ivan shuffled through his bag, taking out a large metal pipe that glinted menacingly in the moonlight. He gestured it towards Yao with a smile. 'I'll let you take care of him today. My gift to you.'

Yao stared at the pipe dumbly, mouth agape. He looked down at the struggling man, his eyes wide with terror, and couldn't help but feel a little sick at the sight. What was he doing here?

(I'm not a murderer.)

He looked back to Ivan, his hand offering the pipe so innocently, as if he had given Yao flowers instead. Yao shook his head and swallowed nervously. 'I-I don't think I can. This… This isn't right…'

'Right?' Ivan's pipe-wielding hand fell to his side. He sighed softly and stepped over the man to approach Yao, his pale face almost glowing in the darkness of the room. 'It doesn't have to be right for you to do something…'

Ivan stepped behind him, his vodka scented breath on Yao's neck as the gap between Ivan's chest and Yao's back closed in. Yao felt his breath shudder as Ivan encircled him with his arms, pressing the pipe into Yao's trembling hands and guiding them into swinging motions, as if Yao were about to hit a tiny golf ball and not a man's face.

'It only has to feel right.'

Their hands swung the pipe in the air together, Ivan pushing it just a little further to bring the end of the pipe gently against the man's sweating face.

'Just imagine how good it would feel to smash this face in, to send it flying into nothingness, myshka,' Ivan spoke softly into Yao's ear, sending a shiver down Yao's spine. 'Doesn't that excite you?'

Yao shook his head vigorously, resisting the direction Ivan was pushing his hands in. 'I can't.'

'Oh, but you can.' A deep chuckle reverberated in Ivan's throat. 'I've seen you do it. And so beautifully, as well…' He murmured, the words spoken fondly on his lips. 'Ochi chernye… I want you to show me that sight again.'

The man squirmed and twisted beneath Yao, like a worm trying to escape the grasp of a hawk. Too futile. Too pointless, and yet he gave it every last ounce of his strength. Yao knew there was nothing he could do to stop this man's death tonight. But he certainly wasn't going to stain his own hands with blood once again. His grasp on the pipe loosened. Yao was ready to turn around and tell Ivan 'no', that he wouldn't kill again, until something had caught his eye. The man's hands, shaking uncontrollably. Or more specifically, his knuckles, which were grazed and bloody. Bloody from beating someone.

And then the image of that broken little girl flashed before Yao's eyes, her fragile skin bruised and beaten, and her sunken eyes vacant and dead inside. How many more times would this man's knuckles become bloody again? How many more times would they thrash and abuse that girl's frail little body? The more Yao asked himself this — the more he let those images of marred skin spin around in his head — the less he started to think, and the more he started to act.

(If I don't do something now, who knows what will happen to her tomorrow…)

The blood pulsed in his temples. His heart beat furiously.

(Pigs like him shouldn't exist. They shouldn't live.)

His hands tightened around the pipe, Ivan loosening his grasp around Yao as he did so.

(This isn't murder. It's justice.)

Then, as if of their own accord, Yao's arms raised the pipe up. Ivan stepped back, silent as he watched. Yao took one last look at the man's face, the ugly face of someone who should have never lived, before swinging the pipe down upon it with a sickening crack. Blood splattered onto Yao's face, the taste and feel of it familiar. Something bitter rose up in his throat, but he pushed it back down as he raised his trembling arms again, wanting more. More of the sound of bone crumbling, of blood seeping into the dark floor beneath, of flesh squelching.

The pipe smacked down onto the man, his howls nothing but muffled wails beneath the bloodied cloth in his mouth. Splinters of bones flew, pieces of what was once a monster's face now meaningless lumps in the air. The screaming now silent, the man's face was no longer a structure, merely a crimson mess on the floor. And even so, the job was never quite finished. Yao's arms ached to hit harder, more destructively, perhaps until this lumpy puddle completely disintegrated away, until there was nothing left, until —

'Yao.' Ivan caught the pipe mid-air as Yao had prepared to swing it down again. 'That's enough.'

Ivan pulled the pipe gently away from Yao, who was dazed and still lost in the red sea that had started to form on the floor beneath him.

'There is much cleaning up to do.' Ivan smiled, his face dusted with specks of blood. Yao looked around himself, finding that ribbons of blood had somehow plastered themselves into the walls, onto the armchair and even onto the ceiling. He looked back to the mess on the floor and felt his knees wobble as realization descended upon him in a slow crawl.

(I'm a murderer. A monster.)

Ivan caught Yao by the arms before he could fall into the slippery pool of blood. 'Ah, ochi chernye… Okh nedarom vy glubiny temnei!' He wiped away the splotches of blood from Yao's face, caressing his cheek and continuing to hum in words Yao could not understand. But he knew all too well what it meant, from the affection riddled between Ivan's strange words to the glimmer in his lilac eyes.

He was Ivan's monster now.

TRANSLATION NOTES:

"Okh nedarom vy glubiny temnei!" = "Oh, not for nothing are you darker than the deep!" (a line from the "Dark Eyes" poem!)