Horrified, with her heart racing like a deer's that stared death in the eye, Katrina backed away with slow, uncertain steps, trying in vain to find seclusion from the yells of enmity and cries of agony. Varden warriors flowed through the main streets and paths like brown rivulets, their booming cries trying helplessly to quell the desperation and insanity that engulfed the city.
Pitched herself against the wooden door of a house, Katrina winced when a man stared at her for one brief moment before attacking a guard unarmed. A cry of pain, followed by a gurgle sound and then silence followed. The soldier retreated the bloodied sword from the man's body, looked at Katrina with stark, condemning eyes and then walked away. Feeling a creeping dizziness engulfing her, Katrina sighed and tidied her dress before trying to open the door that acted as the support that kept her on her unsteady, shaking legs.
The wood creaked slightly against her slight push. Katrina coughed weakly to announce her presence when the faint candle light suggested a possible resident.
The several tall candles that were spread across the room flickered when Katrina closed the door. A dry smell of wood mixed with dust permeated the room, a consequence to a space without windows. Katrina gripped her dress tightly as she shuffled forward, her eyes focused on the table located in the middle of the room.
The dwelling was almost barren, save for a few shelves littered with various tools such as hammers, bars of metal, metal nails and other objects Katrina did not recognize. A stack of wooden planks resided on the left side of the door, with the right serving as an empty place only dust eagerly claimed. No decorations adorned the dark walls.
A smaller room opened at the other end, but Katrina paid little attention to it. If the bed of her host resided in there, she wished not to disturb him.
If there is someone in here, Katrina thought.
A nearby cry sent shudders across Katrina's body. Acting on instinct, Katrina rushed towards the shelf loaded with tools, grabbed a hammer and jumped towards the door, propping her foot against it. In the next moment, a force coalesced with the wooden frame, unbalancing Katrina. With conviction, she threw her weight against the door, pushing the invading force back.
"Open!" A masculine voice yelled. "They're after me."
A surge of remorse washed over Katrina, but her instinct of survival bested her. With limited knowledge about the assassins that infiltrated the Varden and caused the commotion, she shrugged sympathy and regret aside.
Lifting the hammer, Katrina brought it down against the iron stake, the blow sending it right through ring that provided a makeshift lock. The door shook and vibrated, and Katrina knew the metal ring would give in.
Metal clanged harshly under her heavy blows as Katrina began pounding the metal ring with the hammer, bending its shape until no mere human could force it open without proper tools.
"You egoistic bastard!" The man yelled.
The door stopped trembling. Hidden within the confines of the house, Katrina could hear the yell, the screams of the dying man, and the sporadic cough and thump that preceded his death. The clink of metal against stone slowly dissipated as the guards moved on in search of another.
Katrina sighed and wiped her brow with a trembling hand. Her eyes widened when she realized that her whole body was shaking due to fear mixed with adrenaline and balance seemed frail and tedious. Katrina's body lurched as she tried to move towards a nearby chair. In her surge of tumultuous thoughts and emotions, she ignored the leggings that rested on the back of the chair. She would just talk to the resident and reward him for housing her.
"What have I done," Katrina murmured softly, dropping her head on the arms that were already stretched on the almost empty table. "Because of me, that man is dead."
He was evil, her conscience said. Assassins deserve to die.
"But what if he…"
He was. You did the right thing.
Katrina stared with desolate eyes at the shelves filled with tools. They were so simple, always neutral. Their purpose was dictated by the hand that maneuvered them. No wrong or right mattered to them.
"Ai, ai ai."
The muffled voice sounded from the outer parts of the room. Katrina's head jerked upward instantly.
Trying her best to maintain her poise, she took a deep breath, got up from her chair and tidied her dress clumsily.
From the room located opposite to the door appeared a bearded man with long, ruffled hair. Muscular arms protruded from his broad shoulders, and the feral look in his eyes pierced Katrina's weakened confidence.
Gulping emptily, she instinctively wiped her sweaty palms on the texture of the dress and tried her best to maintain eye contact with the man. If she looked elsewhere, her host might feel insulted, or worse, mocked by such impertinence. However, even if her thoughts and intentions were clear and stout, Katrina found it hard to stare at his clean-of-clothes body. No cloth or leggings covered his body, not even his manhood.
"Exc—c-cuse my trespass," Katrina stuttered.
Even if she tried her best to avoid his lower half, the man seemed unperturbed by his exposed body and did nothing to conceal the source of Katrina's discomfort.
"Das alrigh'," he said on a deep voice. With slow steps, he shuffled towards the table. The candle light suppressed even the cover provided by darkness, and Katrina could contain her anxiety no longer. Nimbly, she reached towards the leggings that hung on her chair and clutched them to her chest, looking at the man expectantly.
However, no nod, not even a single reaction came. His face was impassive, devoid of any possible reaction or obvious feeling. After reaching the middle of the table—and several feet away from her, the man scanned her with dark, piercing eyes. There was a craving in his fixed, menacing stare, a half-concealed desire that stirred fear in Katrina's heart. Perspiration oozed from her hot body. She could feel it trickling down, slithering with incertitude, waiting for the catalyst that would push them forward.
Fear engulfed Katrina's mind. She could not think. She could not talk.
And the lower half of the man amplified her wavering concentration.
Katrina snapped. Without a word uttered, she threw the leggings at the man.
From under the cover of the long hair that flowed across his face like ebony tassels, Katrina glimpsed an image that instilled terror into her heart. The man was frowning. Katrina buckled her legs, preparing to flee. But her body refused to obey
With the corner of her eyes, Katrina glanced at the tools located on the shelves. A possible retaliation idea sprouted in her mind, but what followed next crushed the bud of a promising defense.
It all happened so fast, so sudden.
Bewildered, Katrina brought her hands to protect her face when the man hurled the leggings at her. The texture clouded her vision, and before she had the opportunity to flee, the man was upon her.
Katrina coughed sickly, her bulged veins pulsing vigorously due to the pressure exerted by the man's thick arm around her neck. The tight grip barely allowed air to enter and escape her lungs.
"You fight, child dies," the man sneered.
Katrina squirmed, her arms flailing, feet kicking at her captor, but her efforts proved futile. Dizzy due to lack of air and terror, Katrina's eyes widened when she felt a hand touching her belly.
Only then did the man's words rang clear in her mind. Like a prey that accepted its fate, Katrina's body stiffened, the erratic movements and glancing blows coming to a halt.
"Your belly tells me," The man said softly.
Katrina felt his hot breath on her neck, the tightness of his lower half that poked her bottom parts. Suddenly, a terrible revelation bloomed in her mind.
"You keep healthy child if no squirm," the man chuckled. Katrina's body shuddered, her muscles twitching as the man's hand slid across her back like an ominous snake. The hairs on her body bristled when the hand slithered across her legs.
Tears of desperation welled in Katrina's eyes. How could she fight back, when the man was as strong as her husband? What should she do to protect her unborn child?
Roran… Katrina winced and gritted her teeth. The man's hand climbed on the bare skin of her left leg unrestrained. It crawled on the upper parts of it ever so slowly. And then…
"A woman's worth is not always revealed to the eyes. A man," the captor said, touching her private area. Katrina flinched, tears almost erupting on her face. She was on the verge of breaking into sobs, and only her self control and lack of air kept her crumbling poise together.
"Must probe deeper for true value."
Katrina felt the texture of her dress unveiling her legs, her body. The man's clutch around her neck weakened, the almost feeble grip supplying her with much needed air. She was aware of his threats and knew the outcome. Even so, she closed her eyes and exhaled the desperation and fear that coursed through her.
If Roran was here, she thought, breathing deeply. Her muscles tightened, confidence and courage flaring inside her.
He would have fought. With all the strength and speed she could muster, Katrina delivered a terse elbow blow in the man's stomach and used her other hand to remove the arm around her neck. However, her elbow hit a hard surface, and the arm she tried to shave aside refused to move. Instead of a grunt of pain, a chuckle escaped the man's mouth.
"Reckless and disobedient."
Katrina barely registered his words before pain exploded in her back. Her mouth hung open, but the intensity of the pain prevented sound from emerging. Like a hay doll, she was swirled around, facing the man. With her head lolling uselessly due to pain, she could do nothing. Not even face her attacker.
"Poor child."
Katrina tried to guard her belly, but the man twisted her arm awkwardly. Before she had the chance to scream, to retaliate or protect herself, an almighty blow winded her. Stars burst in Katrina's head, the hurled fist at her belly meeting no resistance. Blood rushed to her throat in an instant.
Coughing violently, Katrina expulsed the metallic taste substance that blocked her already contracted throat and inhaled deeply, desperate for air.
Everything was a blur, an unintelligible mix of black mottled by stains of color. Her vision flickered like the flame of a dying candle, and balance suddenly seemed daunting. Insignificant. Demanding.
Katrina's knees buckled, giving in to her apathy.
"…never listen." The muffled sound barely reached Katrina's ears. She lived in a different plane. A dimension of pain, where reality and delusion converged. Her senses were not completely numb. Terror, desperation, alertness; they still provided a bridge between her distant mind and the faint lit room she wished she would have never entered.
Arms grabbed her body. They lifted her, but the weak, trembling legs refused to join with the ground. Katrina felt a strong force pushing her to the left.
The man lifted her body without much trouble. Katrina groaned and closed her eyes to prevent dizziness from taking over. Her back hit a hard surface, and she could only guess what it was.
"Ever since you got pregnant, your body lacked the vigor of a true man inside it." Katrina sobbed quietly, using her last supply of depleting strength to express her desperation. Tears skidded across her dirt caked face, but the man was barely interested in what her upper body had to offer.
Katrina felt her legs parting sideways. She tried to oppose, but the man's strength was too great, his conviction overwhelming. It was too late for reasoning. All she could do was hold strong through her misery. She had to do this for her child. For her husband that was not here for her.
"You never truly loved after the child corrupted your body."
Katrina whimpered when she felt the man's tightness invading her body. His thrusts were fast and brutal; a torture compared to her husband's delicate, loving touch.
"Roran….Roran…why are you not here?" she cooed helplessly.
Katrina wanted to break down into sobs, to cry and shout her agony. But her feeble strength wouldn't allow it. Alone, with no possibilities to stop the man from assaulting her intimate area, she could only hold strong. She needed to do this for Roran, for her child.
"Why are you not here…"