AN
This is just a side project, and a story I couldn't get out of my head. I will be posting rather irregularly but I fully intend on finishing it as fast as possible.
I really hope you enjoy this. If you have any comments don't hesitate to leave them! Any thoughts on the story itself or my writing mean a world to me!
Verity
"Stop! Look around you!" yelled a tall blond soldier in a short green cloak with a winged emblem embroidered on the back. He turned to the left, gesturing to the two cloaked men bringing in two kids just about my age, who did their best to escape the hold.
A short black-haired boy who just a moment ago was fighting to his death stopped, turning in their direction. His glooming face turned even darker upon seeing what I could only assume were his accomplices.
"Leggo, you bastards!" screamed the red-haired girl, lifting herself in the arms of her captive and trying to sway him forward with her weight. He didn't even notice it.
"Don't waste your strength Isabel" calmly said the blond boy to her right, disapprovingly glancing in her direction. They shared a long look before she resided fighting, seemingly accepting her fate.
The soldiers threw them on their knees in the mud. The shorty followed, dropping to his knees with a loud thud and a crack of his gear. I grimaced; it must have hurt.
"I have some questions to ask you. Where did you get your hands on this?" asked the blond man, a commander, I assumed. No reply followed. He cleared his throat and asked another question. "Your vertical maneuvering skills were excellent. Who taught you?"
This was what I'd been wandering myself. Their movements, speed, and accuracy all looked like they were dancing in the air. Yet, I could not ignore the all-too-painful sting at the thought of freedom they must have felt when flying with the gear.
They were free. At least free-er than I could ever be. There were no skies in the Underground, but they would own them if there were. They could fly and go wherever they wanted. No matter the limitations of the stone ceiling hovering upon all of us. What I wouldn't have done to have that magical gear of theirs...
I wanted it so much that it physically hurt.
The life I was forced to live down here was anything but free. I could not speak my mind or do anything I wanted. I couldn't even reject when something I didn't like was happening to me. I had no voice, will, or mind of my own, at least where my "father" was concerned.
The scars on my forearms burned at that thought, memories clouding my mind and painting it red. Heavy stone seemed to drop at the bottom of my stomach when I thought of where I needed to be right now. If I didn't show up soon, the punishment would follow.
And I knew all too well that I would do anything to avoid it.
"I applaud your determination," said the blond man, and I refocused on the scene in front of me. A black-haired guy, who must have been the leader of their small squad, choked on the water in the puddle where one of the soldiers threw his head face first. When he was pulled out by the hair, choking and coughing out dirty sewage water, he glared at the blondy; a hateful murderess look taking over his pretty face. A shiver ran down my spine from his expression. I would not want to be on the receiving end of it.
"You bastard," he growled, sending a chill over my skin. I gripped the handle of my shopping basket with more force than necessary, fighting the unreasonable urge to step back from the boy. "It's Levi."
Levi…
"Would you make a deal with me?" commander kneeled in front of the boy, the familiar look of a happy merchant taking over his face. "I won't ask about your crimes, and in return, you will lend me your strength and join the Survey Corps."
I stared at the man with disbelief. I've never seen scouts before. All the military people looked the same to me. Scouts rarely visited the Underground. But moreover, he was offering them the ticket to the surface? Was it for real?!
"Very well. I will join the Survey Corps," after a long pause, answered Levi, looking grim and annoyed.
Are you mad? – I wanted to scream. – Of course, you will join. This is your ticket out of this place!
If it were me, I would have accepted the offer without any thought. I would do anything to get out of this hell-hole. My life was worthless, nothing but a pawn, a thing to be put out when not wanted anymore. A toy to hit, throw, yell at and fuck whenever pleased. I would choose death if I were stronger. But I wasn't. I couldn't off myself. But If I had a chance to join Survey Corps just like this group, which was being led away to freedom…
Tears stung my eyes, and my next breath felt hollow when I peaked from the dark strands of hair covering my face. For the first time in my life, I wanted something so much that I couldn't let it go. Facing the dream I couldn't possibly have was more painful than I'd ever imagined. And I couldn't deal with this burning poison, jealousy, flowing around in my veins when I looked at them being led away toward the surface.
My hand clutching the basket suddenly relaxed. Soft wooden strands hit the watery mud of the ground, bouncing up for a moment, spilling their contents everywhere. But I couldn't bring myself to care. My eyes were following the leaving group led by four Survey Corps soldiers.
It was not my freedom. But I didn't care. I couldn't let it get away anyway.
My legs moved me forward on their own accord, sprinting towards the leaving group. I was always good at running; something one had to learn when living in the Underground. My body hit the last retreating soldier, who happened to be the squad commander, and before I realized what exactly I was doing, my hands clenched on his cloak, and I pulled at it giving it as much strength as my small frame could produce. The clip holding it in place on his neck broke, and I almost lost balance, falling on my ass right in front of the guy I was foolishly trying to rob. But I managed to stay on my feet, and, turning away, I sprinted, my hole-filled shoes digging into the mud and scooping it up on the way. I ran as I'd never run before in my life, half afraid to hear a soldier's voice right behind me. But nobody followed, and the displeased commanding yell soon died off when I got far enough away. I ran until my sides convulsed in undeniable pain, and the air I breathed went nowhere, escaping my lungs until my knees couldn't hold me up any longer, and a massive hole in the Underground's cavern ceiling was staring me right in the face.
The only "outside" I'd ever known — a small window into the real world. Just a few beams of quickly fading sunlight and a lingering thought – If only I had wings.
Except I had them now.
Even if only as embroidery on the too-short green cloak that I can never show to anyone in the Underground. Even if it was not mine to have.
This thought only made me clutch it in my hands even harder.
I knew I was late when I pushed on the door leading to the house. I had lost my shopping basket with all of the purchases. Punishment awaiting me wasn't going to be pretty. And no matter how I tried to calm myself, disgust and chilling fear coating my insides were the only things I could focus on when the front door quietly creaked. I made my first steps inside, inwardly cringing as if awaiting a blow from nowhere in particular.
The house was quiet – an unnatural state, as my "father's" friends mostly used it to have fun. "Fun" meant getting drunk and hurting people – all they'd ever enjoyed.
I sidestepped the usually creaky floorboard and, as silently as possible, closed the front door, frowning when the lock slid in its place with a too-load click. I froze, listening in to the quiet of the house. I could practically hear how the rats were moving around in the walls. When nothing else caught my attention, I finally exhaled in a momentary relief and turned around, facing the living room. It was blissfully empty, and I hurried through to the corridor at the very end of the spacious dark room. Suddenly turned on light made me freeze in place, fear instantly coating my insides with ice. I closed my eyes as if I could wish this whole situation away.
"You are late," he stated from a few steps away. But no matter the distance, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "What the fuck took you so long? And where is my food?"
The sound of approaching footsteps made me shrink, bringing my head closer to the shoulders, trying to hide from the unavoidable blow. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" a deep voice growled in my right ear, and I flinched away. His cold, stiff fingers circled my forearm, no doubt leaving a bruise along its way, and he brought me close. I could feel the sickening warmth coming from his body, like a poisonous fear clouding my thoughts. "I am talking to you whore!"
I gulped at his snarl and finally opened my eyes, focusing on the sitting chair in my line of sight instead of his face.
"I got robbed," I whispered, praying to the stupid gods of the Walls, who had never listened to me before.
Burning pain on the right side of my face was an answer to my prayer. My head swung from the force of his slap. A dull metal taste covered my tongue from where my teeth cut open the inside of my cheek. Hot traitorous tears stung my eyes when I faced forward again, trying to get my feelings under control.
"Stupid cunt! Get on your fucking knees!" he snarled, and I knew better to obey. My knees weakened, and the pain shooting up my thighs from the hit on the floor was nothing compared to the anguish coating my insides. "Open your mouth," he commanded, and I did, hoping to avoid more pain that was bound to follow if I refused him.
The slick curved tip of his cock touched my lips, and I fought an instinct to gag when he pushed further into my mouth, sliding along my tongue and almost hitting the back wall of my throat. A pleased sigh left him when he moved back a little just to push in further, cutting me from the airflow. One of his hands landed on the back of my head, and the other caressed my chin when he slowly but deliberately fucked me in the mouth. I stuck my tongue out, knowing that this would make him come faster, and slightly sucked on the tip. An answering growl and an increase in speed were my "rewards," following salty and bitter taste covering the insides of my mouth and throat. I gulped, and one tear fell down my cheek when he pushed in way too far, scratching the back of my throat. When he was done, he released me from his firm grip and stepped back, slowly fixing his pants, gaze never landing on me.
"Be ready in an hour," he told me, facing kitchen counters. "I have important guests coming. So you need to be on your best behavior if I was to win their favor," his emotionless voice stated.
Involuntary tears still flowed down my cheeks when he retreated into the corridor, a heavy wooden door loudly shutting behind him.
Only when a few minutes went by and no sounds could be heard did I allow my body to sack. I fell onto the hard wooden floor, feeling every edge of my ribs sink into my flash when I hit the ground. I spit onto the floor, hoping to get rid of the taste inside my mouth. The thought of a hidden winged cloak was the only thing that brought me some level of comfort.
Washing up and getting dressed into my usual "guests" attire didn't take long. Years ago, I learned to suppress my feelings when doing something like the following night promised. Too long have I had to hide my disgust and hurt to care what others were doing to my body. Random soothing thoughts tend to take over my mind during nights like this: mundane things that brought comfort or challenged my brain power; something other I could think of, not focusing on what was happening to me. Or what exactly was done to the flash, I could call my own.
A heavy tray full of drinks slowed me down when I crossed the living room of my "father's" house, trying to avoid all the unwanted attention in the dress I was wearing. Or rather lack of it. The only proper clothes I owed were those I had on before while traversing the market when I witnessed the capturing of that gear-equipped squad. The only fabric covering me now was a poor rag across my abdomen, barely scraping onto my breasts and reaching between my legs.
He liked seeing me practically naked and vulnerable in front of his guests.
He was sick.
Cold hands landed at my waist and yanked me up, forcing me onto the dinner table. A touch lingering on the skin of my thighs made me recoil, but I forced my body to stillness as I'd done many times in the past. A man I'd never seen before leaned in, bringing his face to my neck, and smelling me.
An all too familiar wave of nausea hit me, and I closed my eyes, willing my mind away.
"She sure is pretty," he dwelled, hooking his finger under my chin and forcing my face up. "Look at me," he commanded, and I obeyed, looking into the deep grey eyes of a man somewhere in his fifties. A dangerous smirk curled his lips, and he inclined his head slightly, his chin-long dark hair touching his cheeks. Loud laughter broke our eye contact, and I flinched, recognizing the voice.
"You can have her all you want if our deal stands, Kenny. Fuck her right here on a table, for all I care."
My hands shook from anger and helplessness, which instantly heated my blood.
"She is a rarity. So little of Asian folk left in this wretched world. You sure you want to give her away just like that?"
A loud bang on the front door interrupted him, and everyone froze, turning to stare at it. Kenny, the man, still holding my face in his palm, shifted to take a better look. My father growled from the couch where he was sited and got up slowly, heading for the entrance.
The door flew in with a loud bang that made Kenny jolt and step back from me, his hand shooting to the pistol holster on his belt. A horde of military-dressed men ran in, pushing my father to the side so hard that he lost his footing. They raised their guns, slowly trailing aim across the room, making a point to everyone here not to do anything stupid.
"Mr. Schweir, you are being arrested for the crime of trafficking," stated one of the soldiers.
"Gentlemen, do you have any idea where you've just burst in?" asked Kenny, his voice calm and undisturbed. One of the police officers turned in our direction, his gaze locking on the gun Kenny was pointing at them.
"We have this place surrounded. There are soldiers on the street stationed all around the house. I suggest you lower your weapon and act reasonably."
The smirk on Kenny's face grew into a wide, all-teeth smile that creeped me out even more. He didn't believe what the soldier had said. And to be honest, neither had I. Who would send a whole battalion of troops to storm a house of a trafficker in the Underground?
Before I could take another breath, Kenny shot at the MPs. A loud bang made me jump, and I rolled, falling to the floor. The hit took my breath away, and I choked on the pain spreading across my ribs.
The shooting continued; one of the MPs fell dead on the ground, bleeding out onto the carpet. Bullets flew in every direction. A few MPs jumped outside and shot back at Kenny through the doorframe without seeing where they aimed.
Deciding this was my chance, I turned towards the corridor and crawled, trying to get away as fast as possible. When I reached the doorframe, I scrambled to my feet, running towards the back door.
"Where the fuck do you think you are going?" a familiar growly voice stopped me in my tracks when I was already reaching for the handle. I froze in place, sticky fear clawing its way up my spine; my hand shook in mid-air. His cold, firm hand encircled my waist, pulling me back. I snarled, seeing as such a desired freedom slipped away when I could barely touch it with my fingertips.
Hot breath scraped my earlobe, and I cringed, stilling myself. "Little cockroach can't be left alone for two minutes."
My head clouded at the use of my old nickname, and my blood instantly boiled, scalding rage staining me from the inside. He was not allowed to call me that. Only one person had permission, and she was long gone.
I churned in "father's" hold and pushed at his chest with my palms, giving it as much power as my frail body could muster. He stumbled back, not expecting my resistance, and hit the kitchen counter with his lower back. The shock on his face quickly resided, hatred feeling his ravenous features. He took the first step toward me; hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"This is how you repay me? After all, I've done for you and your whore of a mother?!" he roared, his voice rising above screams and gunshots.
I stepped back, fear rising its ugly head above the trailing rage.
I couldn't do this anymore, I realized. I was done with this life one way or another.
I was done with him!
Something shined in the corner of my eye, and I grabbed at it, not shifting my gaze from his face. My fingers touched cool metal and curled around the wooden handle of a meat knife.
"Fucking cu…" he choked. Blood bubbled in the corner of his mouth. I looked down at the knife sticking out from the middle of his chest, my hand holding it in place. His perfectly ironed white shirt was slowly getting stained crimson red.
No fear coated my tongue when I first took the life of another human. Instead, the lonely feeling of satisfaction heated my insides mixing with the intoxicating feeling of wrath boiling my blood. I spit at his face, watching him slowly slip to his knees. His lips moved as though he was trying to say something, but instead of lowering myself to the ground to listen, I kicked him in the side with my bare foot, taking sick pleasure in the rattling noises escaping his lips.
"You did nothing but punish me for simply existing," I told him, taking a few steps back and closer to the exit.
I turned away from his bleeding corpse and threw myself out of the door and into the dark alley. Gunshots piecing the air only made me move faster when I ran away, not paying any attention to my chosen direction.
He was dead. I killed him.
My lips curled upwards in a smile, and before I knew it, I was laughing like a mad woman, sprinting through the dark and muddy streets of the Underground.
I was finally free.
And no matter if I died tomorrow, of hunger, or a gunshot wound, or whatever else.
I would die a free person.