Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ The Way Out is Through ❯ Help me, I'm in Hell ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion… However, I have hijacked my friend's computer… but I don't own that, either. Also, I wish to reiterate that this story is rated M for a reason…

 

 

 

 

The Way Out is Through

By Ovrboost

 

Just your reflection, just a glimpse,just a little reminder...

of all the what abouts, and all the might have could have beens

another day, some other way, but not another reason to continue

and now you're one of us, the wretched.

The hopes and prays, the better days, the far aways

forget it.

 

It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to,

it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it?

It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to,

it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it?

 

Now you know, this is what it feels like, now you know

this is what it feels like.

The clouds will part, and the sky cracks open

and god himself will reach his fucking arm through

just to push you down, just to hold you down.

Stuck in this hole with the shit and the piss

and it's hard to believe it could come down to this, back at the beginning

sinking, spinning.

And in the end we still pretend, the time we spend,

not knowing when you're finally free,and you could be.

But it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to,

it didn't turn out quite the way that you wanted it.

 

You can try to stop it but it keeps on coming

you can try to stop it but...

-Lyrics by Trent Reznor

Chapter Seven: Help me, I'm in Hell

 

Jesus. That was it. The one word, unheard by all but her, the only word that could quantify what lay before her. Jesus. She spoke his name again in her mind, knowing he would not answer. He never did.

 

If God truly is more than just a word, an idea, then he must be dead. If not, then he certainly left this land a long time ago. She looked to her right, to see a small crowd of gamblers. Further inspection revealed it to be an ancient game, usually played with three cups, and a ball. Or in this case, three buckets and a human head. A child's.

 

Now you see it, now you don't.

 

No… God is dead. Asuka thought, as she moved on, appalled. And he has been, for a long time.

 

It's a city. Well, it was a city, reduced now to little more than a collection point for all of man's depravities. Chita. At least that's what Asuka had found out from, surprisingly enough, a Japanese drifter. She later discovered that Chita was little more than another word for hell. The city, once home to over three-hundred thousand people of mixed Russian, and Chinese ethnicity, apparently belonging now to the Zurikov's. Just another faction whose fight for temporary power had just recently finished, further ruining an already ruined city. Just another opportunist with weapons, trying to build an empire. Perhaps, even a nicer version of hell.

 

The names didn't matter anymore. The promises, and ideals all sounding the same. Law, order, peace, security, safety. Promises they can't keep, ideals corrupting into madness. Asuka had seen it happen before, actually taking part once just to avoid being shot. Once, she discovered quickly, was enough. It could have been worse… She had figured, She only had to kill a couple people. Her first time outside an Eva.

 

They used to speak to her at night, now they only murmur in the background, with the others. What a good girl I am! Aren't you proud mama? Asuka couldn't help but wonder why she tortured herself.

 

Things come cheap in hell, a perk found mainly in the larger cities. A pack of cigarettes could buy an assault rifle, and a magazine's worth of ammunition. Pleasures of the flesh were also available, sometimes for less than half a loaf of bread. Age, sex, and level of consciousness, all at the discretion of the connoisseur. Any objections voiced by those sold being quickly silenced by drugs, or the pointed tip of a knife. Most accept it eventually, swallowing their shame for the opportunity to see tomorrow, others were simply reduced to their component parts. Such casual homicide was easily overlooked in a world where billions had already died for nothing. If one had the stomach for it, nearly anything was possible. Nothing was taboo. Not anymore.

 

Unfortunately for Asuka, she's not a smoker, and she's run out of food, and drink. Hell's currency. Short of selling herself, her only viable option was to steal. Preferably, without killing the person she had to steal from. For the first time in over a week, she was glad to have her pistol. It's weight once again a comfort, rather than an unwanted reminder of the past. Once again, it was useful. Dependable.

 

Asuka had to display her weapon prominently to fend off would be attackers. A feat which she accomplished with the aid of a blackened brown leather shoulder holster she lifted from a dead man. It was big on her, but it bounced reassuringly against her left breast, in easy reach.

 

She smiled. Two days in Chita without being raped, or having had to kill. So far, so good. With success that easy to quantify, it's no wonder humanity isn't any better off than it was six years prior.

 

Scattered fire barrels haphazardly lined the debris-strewn street, highlighting the people huddling around them in an orange glow. The monsters she walked so cautiously past, lurking somewhere in the shadows. Steam drifted lazily from the ancient, and overburdened sewage system. The screams of a young girl pierced the twilight, sounds of the struggle coming from an alleyway up ahead. Readjusting her backpack, Asuka crossed the street, and increased her pace. She didn't even look. She kept her eyes on the interval between her, and her own victim.

 

All the heroes are dead for a reason. All she needed was food.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

After a week, it had become routine. The soft knock on the old oaken door, the soft smile, and the food. In his long periods of self-isolation, Shinji had caught himself looking forward to their unspoken conversations. The smile in her eyes, as well as her lips. That's why when the knock came too early, he feared bad news. Or Yuriy.

 

It's not that Shinji didn't like Yuriy, far from it. It's just that he felt indebted to the man, despite his failure to save Ming. Besides, Shinji wasn't used to being given handouts, hand-ups, hand-me-downs, or anything in between. That is, at least, without something being asked of him in return… In short: He didn't exactly trust him.

 

And so it was Yuriy who appeared from behind the massive oak door, and Shinji frowned imperceptibly. Imperceptibly, because he rarely smiled, especially in his presence, and frowns are so close to having no expression at all.

 

“Shinji?” the large, bearded man asked, locating the young man in his usual spot by the curtained window. Said man looked up at him, taking a moment to focus. Finally, an unspoken 'yes?' appeared on his countenance. Or perhaps it was a less friendly `What'. The jury was still out on that one.

 

“Shinji, please, I would like it if you would join us this evening.”

 

He was getting better… Shinji noticed, he's been studying. “Yuriy, I'm sorry, bu-”

 

“It wasn't a question. I'm telling you, that you obligated join us for dinner.” He interrupted, eyes turning hard. Shinji just stared at him, expressionless. Yuriy glared back, until the young man simply turned his head to stare at the wall. Yuriy sighed, “It'll be ready in twenty minutes. You know where kitchen is located at?”

 

He's been studying, but he still sounds… Shinji nodded, like a tourist reading from a book…

 

“Good.” The man said closing the door behind him. Once the older man left, Shinji sighed, and returned his gaze to the swirling particles of dust, dancing their random dance in the sliver of fading light.

 

Twenty minutes disappeared in what seemed like five. He was getting good at zoning out, though whether or not that was actually a good thing had yet to be seen. Shinji supposed he would find out one day, though he doubted the answer would effect him much. He just didn't care. If it didn't hurt so damn much to try it, he'd have voluntarily stopped breathing. It was little more than a hassle, anyways. Speaking of which, he rose from his seat.

 

Oddly enough, Shinji felt unusually perceptive. Perhaps the long periods of little to no sensory input had heightened his senses. Whatever the cause, or reason, it took only two steps free of the confines of his room, to determine that no food had been prepared. Why, he asked himself, am I not surprised?

 

“Come in, Shinji.” he heard the voice say. The little girl was nowhere to be seen, the kitchen bathed in shadow, as he entered.

 

“What's going on?” Shinji asked in a flat voice , deciding not to step too far into the room.

 

“We're going to go for a walk” said the elder Aleksandrov.

 

“Oh… Okay.”

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, after having teased this part of the world for the better part of an hour. Twilight. The eerie period of limbo separating day, and night. Those who lived here, those who stayed despite the horror, knew not to stay out for much longer. If one wished to see tomorrow, they left the streets before nightfall.

 

In the dark, they knew the monstrosity of man knew no limitations.

 

While the weak deserted, Asuka stalked her victim. She was the type of predator known best by the hungry. Those who couldn`t defend themselves, or their food. Those people don't usually last long. Little fish, meet big fish.

 

Male. Long hair, medium height, obviously malnourished, and apparently unarmed. No names, no faces, no conversation. Her victims couldn't be human. Not to her, anyways, it made things easier. She followed the unsuspecting man from across the street, half a block away, effortlessly blending into the thinning crowds, staying invisible. Sometimes the best way to hide, is not to hide. The man turned left, at the building's corner, heading towards the city's central block. Chita's central block was, to her, the cities most interesting area. The architecture there showing obvious signs of Japanese design, and style. The Japanese POW's had done an excellent job.

 

Scheiße! Asuka cursed, mentally when she realized what had happened. Glancing around quickly, she jogged across the street to follow. Turning the corner, she came back to her normal pace, already scanning for the old grey jacket the walking convenience store was wearing. Nothing. She tried not to be blatant in her search, but her mounting frustration was making it difficult. She was hungry, damn it.

 

someone jostled her. An obvious attempt to grope her left breast. She snarled, and whipped around, hand going towards her weapon, except it wasn`t there. She came face to face with the barrel of her own pistol, held by a rough looking hand, attached to the arm of a thin man wearing an old… grey… jacket. She gasped at the abrupt appearance of her mark. Not so slick after all… she chided herself mentally, he saw me. And he… Hey! that's my gun! Checkmate.

 

No one stopped to help, no one ran, or screamed, they simply parted, leaving them to their business. He had bad breath, and he spoke Russian. Spittle flew from his mouth, as he tried Chinese, gesturing with his gun towards the alleyway. Asuka blinked, thought; wundervoll.

 

“Go to hell. I just wanted your bread.” She said, in impatient German. Apparently, he`s not as dumb as he looks. Either that, or he just didn't care for the tone of her voice. He pistol whipped her regardless, and everything went blurry, a warm, and fuzzy wetness enveloping her. Blood drained from her forehead, into her left eye, further obstructing her vision.

 

Her addled mind instructed a go for the pistol, but her slow, and clumsy attempts were easily parried. He pushed her into the alley, and struck her again, at the base of the spine, as she fell.

 

Everything went black.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

The breeze swept gently across the open land surrounding the house, chilling the air to a point just slightly below what would be considered comfortable. The field had grown wild these past six years, though it still bore the telltale signs of having been farmed, the marks left by the plow.

 

Thus far, their walk had been devoid of any conversation, both content to keep any thoughts to themselves. Shinji had begun to wonder the reason behind this twilight stroll, having finally rid his mind of the painful reminder beneath the tree in the backyard. He didn't have to wait long, Yuriy apparently had decided that they had gone far enough.

 

“Shinji,” He began, turning towards the young man. Voice noticeably softer, “How are you feeling?”

 

Shinji had expected several things to come from the man's mouth, ranging from `life goes on', to `leave'. However, the simple question `how are you feeling?' had never crossed his mind. He actually had to formulate an answer, instead of simply nodding, and going along with whatever the man said. He decided to meet him halfway.

 

Shinji replied with a noncommittal shrug, and an incoherent mumble. This was a maneuver he had perfected long ago. It almost worked. Yuriy grunted, unimpressed.

 

“Okay.” Yuriy said, with a cough, “Come with me.” They walked into the nearby tree line, old leaves, and twigs crunching, and snapping underfoot. Soon, it became hard to see the field behind them. It certainly wasn't getting any brighter, and Shinji couldn't help but wonder why they would choose to come here this late in the day. He never much liked the night, anyways. Yuriy stopped, at the edge of a clearing, and visibly deflated, his head hung lower than usual, shoulders hunched ever so slightly. Shinji's curiosity actually peaked.

 

Looking around, from behind the older man, Shinji could dimly make out a clearing, a small field irrigating creek running just off to the right. A large elm marking it's center, the ancient limbs hanging low, with an old wooden swing dangling perilously from frayed roped. It's base was hidden behind a crude stone marker. Suddenly, Shinji understood.

 

“Who was it?” he asked.

 

“Vanya. My wife.” Yuriy replied, his voice coming in a more somber chord. “She died six years ago. Right after the… end.” Shinji cringed.

 

“She never came back?”

 

“No. She came back. Perhaps it would have been easier had she not… She died in my arms, I was powerless” Yuriy paused, “I was such a fool.” he finished quietly to himself in his native tongue. He turned towards Shinji, and placed a large hand upon his shoulder “I know what you go through, Shinji. Because I've been there.” From his pocket, Yuriy produced a small silver flask, and took a swig from its screw top. “Drink?”

 

Shinji took the proffered flask, holding it skeptically in his hand, as if examining it. Finally he looked up to the older man, to find a sad smile, one he replied to in kind before taking a sip.

 

“Thank you.” Shinji said hoarsely, throat ablaze. The older man simply nodded, leading the way home.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“How much?” The man asked, obviously ready to conclude the matter at hand.

 

“She has many scars, Josef. They're…” a sigh, “Distracting.” He replied, setting the tumbler on the table, empty.

 

“Yes… yes.. But who doesn't?” Josef countered, “Besides, it's nothing that the dark wont fix... So how much?” The other man let loose a soft, barely perceptible growl of distaste.

 

“Two cans of soup, and half a loaf of bread.”

 

“What about-”

 

“My man downstairs will get you your needles. Now go.” Josef nodded, and left without another word. He didn't look back. Asuka groaned groggily, as she lay prostrate on the nearby couch.

 

“Pasha… Tell me, what are you thinking?”

 

“I'm thinking it's workable. We may have to up her dosage, compared to others, to make her more… malleable. But really, Nicolay, how many girls do you need?” Pasha said, as he walked from the shadowed corner that hid his slightly overweight frame, headed towards the small bar set into the wall's rich woodwork. The former KGB office, despite it's age, and generally plain design, still had its' perks. Besides, it served its' purpose well.

 

“A man needs variety, Pasha.” Zurikov replied, swirling the drink in his hand, in a kind of meaningless ceremony. He finished what was left, with a quick jerk, remnants beaded at the tips of his mustache. “What of the men?”

 

“Tired.” Pasha said, glad to have switched topics. “We lost about a third, total, before Grishanov was killed, and his army neutralized.” He said, cleaning his spectacles.

 

“Deserters?” Nicolay inquired.

 

“About half of that. We rounded most of them up.” He glanced at his watch, “They should be dead by now.”

 

“Good, Pasha. Very Good.” he said, striding towards the window. He ran a lazy finger over Asuka's leg as he passed, staring out the window. “What else?”

 

“Mikhail Eduardovich sent a runner, saying that they found the underground fuel reserves, and that he is hopeful. We'll see.” He took a drink, to hide his smile. Nicolay glanced over his shoulder towards the younger man, his friend, and advisor for the past fifteen years, a wide grin on his face.

 

“Truly?” A nod. “If so, Pasha… if so, then we could reunite this country.” he said turning to face his friend, “We could be like the czars of old!” He took large, ground swallowing steps towards Pasha, and embraced him by the shoulders. “The two of us! Together, we will rebuild this country… better than it ever was!”

 

“Yes Nicolay,” pasha said, trying to share the enthusiasm, “but there is so much left to do… We must prepare.” Nicolay smiled at him broadly, giving a nonchalant wave, as though the rest was mere details.

 

“That's why you're here, Pasha.” He said, taking a quick nip at a random bottle lining the bar's shelf. “Gahhh… I'm going to meet Mikhail, I wish to see this for myself!”

 

“And the girl?” Pasha asked, with a quick hand gesture. Nicolay glanced over, his smile fading ever so slightly, and shrugged.

 

“Give her something to help her sleep. When she is conscious, introduce her to the others.”

 

“Her clothes?” Nicolay smirked.

 

“Burn them, of course.” He said, the lopsided smile remaining as he strode out of the room. “Give her the black one.” he sent a wave over his back, before the door closed behind him.

 

Pasha finished his drink.

 

She remembered bits, and pieces. Snippets of light, shape, and voice, none of which making any real sense. The street moving beneath her, red carpet, stairs, a slamming door, excited voices speaking Russian… Asuka sighed, fighting against the headache for more sleep. She turned lazily on the couch attempting to get comfortable.

 

Couch… the word flittered through her head. Part of her screamed that it was an important change, the other part still trying to string the pieces together. It didn't take too long. In a sudden moment of clarity, Asuka stopped breathing, her eyes popped opened wide in panic. She sat up quickly, gasping. There was a man watching her, drink in hand, from a brown leather armchair, across from her. He was silent, and Asuka was naked. She tried to cover herself. He smirked, and handed her the glass, which she took tentatively.

 

“W-what is it ?” she asked in German, but the man simply tilted his head in curiosity. After a moment, he gestured for her to drink up, stood, and tossed a simple little dress in her lap, before walking past her. She was shaking, as she tested the liquid. Water… at least that's what her mind was telling her, as she downed the rest of the glass.

 

She could feel his eyes, as they traveled across her body from behind, eye fucking her. She dressed quickly. The dress itself was old, plain black, and definitely made for a smaller woman. She could still feel his eyes on her, but she was starting to feel warm. Maybe this won't be so bad…

 

She turned around, only to find him a mere two feet away. He smiled, but the sudden grip on her arm was distantly painful, as he practically dragged her around the couch. She was beginning to feel light, disjointed. They left the room, and she scarcely took any notice, focused solely on placing one foot in front of another. The long hallway turned into stairs, another short hallway, another longer hallway, which turned into a door, which turned into another couch. Soft, comfortable, naked. Other faces glanced quickly through an open doorway, friendly looking, but not. Sharp words. The room was dim, warm. He was inside her. Bits, and pieces. Slaps she heard more than felt, like artillery clapping in the distance. He finished on her chest. Sleepy. Another slap. His grin, friendly looking, but not. Tired. Tears. He turned off the lights, on his way out. Sleepy.

 

Her mind was screaming at her from inside a soundproofed box. Crying out. Asuka fell asleep, feeling nothing.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“Hello!” the young girl said, with obvious enthusiasm. Shinji nearly jumped at the sudden burst of his native tongue, sufficiently shocked to stare at the girl in silent, wide-eyed wonder. His silence made her question her pronunciation, and try again. He caught it the second time, a slow, uncertain half-smile appearing on his face.

 

“Hello…” Shinji replied slowly, still feeling unsure. Yuriy was smiling proudly, behind him.

 

“Her name is Svetlana.” He said in his ear, giving an encouraging look to his daughter.

 

“Hello, Svetlana.” She beamed. “um… How are you?” Her smiled disappeared as her mind set to work decoding his words. It took half a minute. He knew she had figured it out, from the way her face lit up. It kind of reminded him of Ming.

 

“Good!” she said, still smiling.

 

“She's very intelligent, Shinji…” Yuriy said proudly, “She's been helping me study all week” The young man nodded. “Come, there should be something good to eat left in here.” he said, walking past them. Shinji ignored him a moment, kneeling down to Svetlana's level. He extended a hand, which she took. “I'm glad to finally meet you, Svetlana.” It took a moment, but she giggled, and shook his hand with exaggerated movements.

 

Yuriy's good natured rumble of a laugh echoed through the kitchen. To Shinji, it made him look even larger, if that was even possible. “Now, young man, we will teach you how to speak proper Russian!” Shinji couldn't help but loose a short laugh. It was a small step, but it was something, and it was good.

 

“But..” Shinji countered, “you're getting so good at Japanese…” Yuriy let loose another echoing laugh.

 

“Yes, but this isn't Japan, young man! You are in Russia, so you must learn to speak like a Russian!” For the first time in what seemed like forever, Shinji felt warm, and he smiled. Yuriy winked at him, his voice more conspiratorial, “and perhaps, how to drink like one.”

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

She felt like shit. Plain, and simple. It was as though someone had taken a ball bat, or a truck, and hit her repeatedly. She wasn't where she thought she last was, and that shook her up a little. It was a large bed, in a large, darkened room. Asuka went to sit up, but a soft hand shot to her chest, stopping her. She grasped at the wrist, fully intending to break it. Her eyes shot to its' owner, and she stopped struggling. It was another girl, Russian, no older than thirty, no younger than twenty five, and no more innocent than her.

 

A washcloth appeared, as Asuka tried to communicate verbally, with no success. The girl dabbed her forehead with the washcloth, and Asuka closed her eyes.

 

Flashes of memories from the night before assailed her mind. After the initial shock, the realization of what had happened to her, this new horror to complement the ever growing mountain of horrors, Asuka opened her eyes. It wasn't the fact that it had happened to her that made the tears come, It was the fact that she had someone to share the pain with, she wasn`t alone. So she cried. Again. Only this time, there was someone there to hold her, even though that someone didn't even know her name, never even knew she existed until now.

 

After awhile, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door. The older girl begrudgingly let her go, straightened out her nightgown, and walked towards the door. Asuka followed her with her eyes, catching sight of the black dress from last night, hanging in the corner. She shuddered.

 

The door opened, and a large, burly looking man stepped in. Asuka didn't recognize him, but apparently the other girl did. The guy said something soft to her, brushing her cheek with a gentle finger, copping a feel with his free hand. Asuka watched, fascinated. The girl said something back, and the man smiled, handing her a pill bottle. He smiled, shot a glance in Asuka's direction, who turned her head away, and he left, closing the door softly behind him.

 

The girl padded her way back towards her, as she expertly extracted four pills from the bottle. When she reached the bed, she handed two to Asuka, and produced a glass of water. Asuka has rightfully hesitant, giving the girl a suspicious look that she apparently understood. Asuka ended up taking them anyways. The girl winked at her, broke one pill in half, and took only the half. Asuka simply looked at her, puzzled.

 

This time the drugs took longer, but the effects were the same, and Asuka was left in a pleasantly numb stupor for the remainder of the morning, and long into the afternoon. She didn't see the girl for the rest of the day, as she drifted in, and out of consciousness.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“The jet fuel is worthless, Nicolay, it's already congealed. But the diesel… The diesel is just fine, my friend.” The man said with a smile. They were outdoors, at a small military site hidden in the trees. The site itself was originally built along with many others, not long after the second world war, in an effort to fortify their border with the Chinese. This particular camp, was a fuel dump.

 

“How much is here?”

 

“Enough to drive a dozen tanks to Moscow, and back, and this is just one of many!” Mikhail Eduardovich was a large man, about thirty eight. Not very fit, but extremely loyal, and good with machines. If not for him, Nicolay would still be living in the dark. The large mil-spec generators had been a godsend.

 

“Excellent! And the tanks?” Nicolay asked with a huge smile, pleased beyond belief at the successes of the past month. He felt like the king of the world, which wasn't, he felt, too far out of reach.

 

“They're old, Nicolay, but practically new. Never used! Mountains of shells, and spare parts.” Mikhail said, as excited as his boss. “My god,” he said, “No one will be able to stop us.” Nicolay's smile reduced to a grin.

 

“My friend, that is something we'll have to just wait, and see. I want to see you driving a tank into Chita before the week is out. Then, we start training only the trustworthy. You understand why, of course.” he nodded. “Good.” the broad smile reappeared. “Then let us celebrate!”

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

The sun was setting, and time was running out. No one had any idea how long the girl had been missing. The guard in charge of them having been found drugged, unconscious, and naked. He was later shot for his incompetence, but that didn't bring the girl back, and so Pasha started to sweat. It was a sensation he had little love for. The death of the guard had only assuaged his anger momentarily, so at present he was taking out his aggressions on the new girl. He wasn't hitting her yet, but he wasn't too far away.

 

He decided not to take the chance, however, in the case that Nicolay would take offense. So he dropped her, and she fell like a wet rag. He watched her breathe for a moment, before leaving to check up on the search for the missing girl. He soon wished he'd gone somewhere else.

 

“Pasha, there you are. Where is she?” Nicolay asked, the smiles of last night a distant memory.

 

“Who?” he asked, playing dumb for no real reason. He immediately wished he hadn't. The man before him suddenly glaring hard. Threatening.

 

“You know who.” Nicolay growled out, “Find her.” Pasha gulped, and nodded quickly. They may be friends, but in the end, Pasha new who was the boss. Besides, friendships post-impact, had a strange way of dieing quickly. “I'm sorry Pasha, but… She is mine. You understand? Mine. She will die, only if I choose, She will live only if I choose.” He seethed. “If I have to make that decision without her here… Someone will take her place.” Zurikov dropped him, and left stalking down the hall.

 

Much to his relief, he found her two days later.

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

They tossed her into a room, with another girl she had yet to meet. She was Chinese, younger than herself, and apparently just as clueless as she was. They had withheld their pills for some unknown reason, therefore, she was tired, sore, and shaking ever so slightly.

 

Asuka wanted to know why the hell she had to be cognizant. She had grown used to not feeling, in the absence of the older girl, whom she had not seen since her first morning here. Asuka liked being numb, and she wanted to go back. Reality sucked anyways. This place had lights, food, and it was warm. What else could she ask for, other than human dignity. Besides dignity was over rated, especially if you didn't feel anything, and cared even less.

 

That was when they dragged her into the room. Asuka's eyes shot open, in instant recognition. It was her, the girl who soothed her, held her as she cried, dabbed her forehead with the cool washcloth, gave her the first of the happy pills. She was the one who introduced her to sweet nothingness. She was bleeding.

 

Asuka's mouth hung open stupidly, as she took in the image. The once beautiful girl was laying face down on the cement, naked, bruised, and bleeding. But she was alive, and there was Pasha standing over her. Asuka knew Pasha very well. He was the one who introduced her to the various positions her job required of her, painfully if necessary, before she met Nicolay, whom she rarely saw.

 

The wide leather belt came down again, and again, in loud, sharp thunderclaps. Booted feet crushed, and kicked. Knuckled fists mercilessly beat, and punched. Asuka heard it all, but refused to look at anything other than her eyes. She saw the tears there, the silent pleas for help. Asuka saw them all, and suddenly felt a different kind of numb.

 

The girl eventually stopped breathing, and Pasha left, his message having gotten across.

 

Don't even try to escape. Try it, and we will find you, then we will kill you.

 

By the time Asuka made it back to her room, she was crying silent tears. Fuck nothingness. Fuck the pills… she angrily swiped the tears off her face, and took one pill, instead of the customary two. I'm getting the fuck out of here. She opened the door to find Nicolay waiting for her, on the bed. Asuka smiled.

 

 

 

A/N: I definitely need a happier story. Honestly, I never meant for it to be happy, but damn… However, The end is near, only a few more chapters. Got this one out quick though, eh? It helps when you have over a month's worth of notes to go by. Also thanks go out again, to TheBigW… it may have took awhile, but your review was the perfect B-day present. Especially since you were my only review… *cough* Anyways, thanks again for reading, I truly do appreciate it. Until next time, ~Rob