Others

      If last day’s awakening was light, this day’s awakening was darkness. In the first few minutes, Kiva didn’t even realize, what was wrong with her: her head didn’t feel a gram lighter, and her aches and pains increased. Snippets of memories rushed to remind her of the events of the previous evening. She looked around nervously, fearing that she was not alone again. But there was no one, but her. The girl would probably have cried again, if it hadn’t been for the heavy headache and already swollen eyes. She raised hands to her face. Her wrists bore the marks of the rope, and the right one had a knife wound that, thanks to her attempts to break free yesterday, had widened more, than it had originally. The blood had already dried. She covered her face with her hands, breathing hard, and sat like that for a while, until her mind, which had been throwing up fragments of the rape, came under its usual control.       Kiva discovered, that she hadn’t buttoned her shirt yesterday, or maybe she just didn’t care about it last night. In grim, poisoning irony, she thought: “What else could happen to a slum rat like me? It’s a wonder, how I managed to avoid this before.” One thing she could determine for sure, it would take her some time to realize, to accept this event into her life. Just as she had come to terms with street life, her mother’s death, her first murder. She could, there was no choice, but to accept. Fighting was pointless, because she can’t go back and fix anything. It had already happened, had become part of her, it was foolish to deny it. Kiva tried to straighten up, her back aching unpleasantly at the shoulder blades. Her lower abdomen itched and hurt, when she moved. Again, for the umpteenth time in the last few days, her right side ached. It wouldn’t heal properly, whose fault was that?       A hand slid to her left shoulder, groping. The bandage wasn’t wet, so it wasn’t bleeding. It was more than satisfactory, she didn’t want to fix it or dull the pain. It was even better, the pain reminded her, that the she existed, that it was not a dream, that there would be no saving awakening. If she existed, then she had to cope with her inner pain. She lay back on the mattress, which seemed to stink even more. A sudden urge to burst into tears came on, after all she was just a girl, no one could help her with that. Kiva felt used, even dirtier than usual, broken. But this urge suddenly infuriated her. Kiva dug the fingers of her left hand into the wound on her right, tearing that one even more. Her mind dutifully drew away from the pain and tears came to her eyes, but this time not of worry, but of pain. She hated being weak, and rape and feelings like that made her even weaker. “You weren’t killed, you weren’t mutilated, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get your priorities right,” she reprimanded herself. She was alive and could feel her agony, but so could she deal with it, because there was no other way.       Despite all these small victories in her head, she didn’t want to move, Kiva still felt like shit. Her lips hurt, she didn’t understand why at first, but then she remembered where the marks had come from. The images began to flash in her mind again, clenching the lump inside her stomach. At some point, nausea began to surge up her throat, forcing the girl into a sitting position. And if there was anything to it, she would probably throw up. She sat for a while with her hands in her lap and her head tilted, waiting for the urge to come again. They did not appear. Her gaze casually fell on the book, and a sudden anger suddenly boiled up inside her. “It’s all that stupid shit, I shouldn’t have even brought it.” She wanted to throw the book into the corner, to vent her anger, her resentment, her pain. She picked it up, swung, but didn’t throw it.       If anyone was to blame, it was herself, not a harmless diary. She got too carried away and forgot, and that’s why she got hurt. And the book was just telling her a story. She couldn’t let that rush of emotion out, but it went inward, intensifying her fatigue and helplessness. Kiva tried to eat, but the apples lodged in her throat, so she gave it up. She spent the rest of the evening in an internal struggle, reorganizing her mind so, that what had happened wouldn’t grind her whole. Sleep came over her again, she even dreamed about something this time. When she woke up, she couldn’t remember, what it was. She felt better after the sleep.       No, there wasn’t less pain inside, and the overall sensation didn’t become more pleasant, just a headache. Her mind had already chewed over some of the events and built them into her understanding. The thought of rape no longer evoked the storm of emotion, that it had the day before. It was unpleasant, but it didn’t have that pity and resentment. Kiva decided to finally bandage her wrist. The feeling of hunger brought her out of her stupor. She wished, she could force herself to eat the apples, but for some reason being in a place, where she had been caught, had become unnerving and annoying. Kiva thought about going to the general gathering place, maybe there would be someone there and she could distract herself. But what would she tell them?       Did she want them to see her like this now? No, she didn’t. The thought of her comrades brought with it another. Whenever something hard happened, they drank, trying to wash away all the heaviness. She hadn’t even considered joining them in their little escape from reality before, but now…the thought drew her in. Kiv listened to herself, waiting to see, what kind of response the thought of alcohol would find. Perhaps she needed it. Though, a certain apathy played more of a role in that decision. The girl stepped out of the barn, walked over to the fence, where she almost managed to climb over. The knife was gone, but the trail it had left behind was visible. She wandered down the street with a blank stare, already knowing, where she was going.       Kiva entered the tavern, that belonged to Zel. He’d known her for a long time, so he was surprised to see her. Kiva had rarely visited him, especially since she’d joined the group, that Al led. He was also surprised by her appearance, the marks on her neck, the origin of which he had no doubt. It seemed strange to him, for he had never noticed such a thing in the girl. She walked up to the counter, not paying attention to anyone. “Hello, Kiva! I haven’t heard from you in a while.” “I guess so,” she said slowly, focusing her gaze on the innkeeper. “Zel, get me something hot…and bring me something to drink. I’m thirsty for a drink tonight.”       Zel listened calmly to her request to get her something hot, but the second request, to get her something alcoholic, shocked him.       For as long as he could remember Kiva, and he remembered her from the age of eight, she had never stopped by for a drink. Even more, when her friends sometimes drank at his inn, she never joined them. But still, without much hesitation, he brought her a bowl of broth and set a glass of cheap wine in front of her, nothing else in the Underground City. The girl didn’t thank him and went to the farthest corner with a blank, inward-looking gaze. Yes, he was a little saddened by such behavior, but he didn’t really care. Besides, he had enough guests tonight, one of whom, by an incredible coincidence, was Kenny Ackerman.       Zel was one of the few people in the Underground City, who knew which clan and whose family had produced a professional assassin. It was the innkeeper’s job, and sometimes he heard too much. He prudently preferred to keep it to himself, for that knowledge endangered him on several fronts. He vaguely remembered, that the Ackerman family had originally lived in the capital, were aristocrats and served the king. Then things had changed drastically, and persecution had begun. Many members of the family were killed, the survivors renounced the family name and fled into poverty. Now Kenny was sitting near the entrance, with his feet on the table, smoking. He watched the girl with interest, he was even curious.       Kiva sat at the farthest table and slowly stirred the contents of her plate with a spoon, paying no attention to the people around her. She ate the warm chowder without tasting it, then thoughtfully reached for a glass of wine. The tavernkeeper poured her a red, she had never drunk wine until now. The noise from the several tables, the people talking, didn’t bother her. She didn’t notice the rumble of a chair being pushed back, or the footsteps coming closer and closer. She only flinched, when she felt a heavy hand on her chair; she didn’t want to turn around. Kiva stubbornly stared at the glass.       Kenny leaned slightly toward her, keeping his heavy hand on her chair, scrutinizing her face with the same interest as before, as if searching for something in it. “I didn’t expect to see you here, little girl, I thought you wouldn’t come out of your burrow for a few more days.”       He walked around the table, sat down across from it, threw his legs over it in a habitual motion, and leaned back in his chair. The man watched her, studying her, trying to figure out, what she was thinking. Kiva kept her head down, unsure of what to do in such a situation. Fear returned, a certain numbness, but the girl did not follow her first impulses: to leave the place, to throw a chair at the man, but, most likely, she just accepted everything as a given, from which it was worth to be guided. Meanwhile, the innkeeper brought Kenny another glass with amber liquid, Zel himself was concerned about the fact that Ackerman was sitting next to someone, murders in the tavern were absolutely unnecessary. His worries were in vain, however.        Kiva was still a little uneasy, even though she was able to control herself and keep her emotions in check. Pushing her thoughts away, she reached for her glass and took a sip of wine. Perhaps the stupefying beauty of the hops was just beyond her reach, or perhaps the wine was just disgusting — her face contorted into a grimace. Ackerman, who had been watching the girl, gave an unexpectedly good-natured laugh, that made Kiva look up at him. Their gazes crossed, and she found calm, condescension, and knowledge in his gray eyes. But there was also the relentless fire of a predator. “Ha-ah, is this your first time drinking?”       She nodded silently and sipped again, this time trying not to grimace. Kenny, in his turn, sipped from his glass, as if it were plain water, admiring his marks on the girl’s neck. Twirled the glass a little in his hand: “Too much of the first in you.” “Perhaps.”       Quietly answered the girl suddenly to herself, the man was also a little surprised, that she said anything to him at all. They sat in silence for a while, Kenny thinking about something of his own, occasionally glancing at the girl.       There was something about her for him. He had once been forced to change his own perception of the world, when his family had become enemies of the ruling dynasty. Now he was witnessing the same shift on a much smaller scale. He liked, what he was seeing. Knew, that the girl was struggling between possibly throwing a glass of wine at him and running away from him, and between staying. Thereby showing, that she wasn’t afraid of him. Likewise, he had no trouble understanding, why she was drinking. Obviously, the process gave her no pleasure. To wash away the resentment, to forget herself for a while and leave this unpleasant life somewhere at the back of her mind, that’s what she wanted. To allow herself an escape from reality.       He didn’t need to exchange words with her, and she kept silent, because she couldn’t get over herself. After the third glass of wine, she finally squeezed out a question: “Why doesn’t the wine help?”       He grinned. Although the point of the question was not obvious, he easily understood it. “It shouldn’t help. It won’t change your head, girl.”       She shoved the glass away with an irritated, frustrated shake of her palm and looked up at Kenny angrily again, as if it were his fault. But suddenly she realized, that he was reading her like an open book, and understood perfectly well, what was going on in her head. She was usually the one, who tried to understand the people around her, but now the man across from her understood all of her without the slightest strain. Perhaps even a part of herself, that she didn’t know about yet.       He was apparently satisfied with that realization on her face. He liked, what he saw. That ability to adjust to a new situation, he’d met few people, who remained themselves after a radical change in life. She didn’t run away as soon as he approached her, she didn’t get hysterical, she even looked him straight in the eye sometimes, knowing perfectly well, that if he wanted to, he’d bend her over in the alley behind the tavern, but she still didn’t show fear or apprehension. It wasn’t the psychology of a victim, it was the edge of the mind of a predator, like himself. It couldn’t help but like it, it couldn’t help but beckon him.       Kenny was used to being surrounded by fear, and to be met with such…resistance was interesting to say the least. After a while of silence, Kenny asked: “Where did you get that little book?”       She hesitated, still unsure, but answered: “I found it here a few years ago.” “Can you read?”       This time he looked genuinely surprised, as it seemed to her. It was a small victory for her. She nodded silently and pointed a thumb toward the counter, where the tavernkeeper was bustling about. “He taught.”       Kenny glanced in that direction and grinned, downing another shot of the local brew, noting something to himself again. Alcohol didn’t bother him, it was just something to help him relax and de-stress. Kiva stood up, the slightly full-bodied conversation, that had begun, had instilled a slight fear.        She realized, that she had been sitting here for a long time, and that she should go home. She glanced briefly at the man, who was still sitting in his chair, noting to herself, that he was still in some state of good-naturedness. He waved her off languidly and pulled his hat on, covering his eyes. “Come on, go home already.”       She didn’t have anything to say and walked quickly toward the exit, not wanting to push her luck. Kenny stared at her until, she was out the door. For a moment he wondered if he should go after her and do the recent thing again. But not tonight. He had his own plans for the next few days, there were a lot of cops down in Underground City, something was going on, and he needed to know, what it was. And this girl…the location of her home, he would not forget.