Chapter Text
Through the thin soles of her ragged shoes, Summer could feel each of her steps against the concrete pavement she was madly dashing on. She muscled her way through the pedestrians, pushing them out of the way hastily, while behind her came another shrill scream, “Get that girl! She’s a thief!”
Her brown hair blew against her flushed cheeks as she willed her legs to move faster. Her bag swung against her side as she made a sharp curve into the empty alleyway. Before her, the towering brick wall warned her of the promising dead end, but she only ran faster.
When she got close enough, she hopped onto the dumpster, making a loud clang before leaping towards the pipes that crawled up the brick wall. She could hear the shouts of men and thudding of feet behind her but she didn’t even bother looking back as she climbed up the building skilfully.
“Get back here you little bitch!” One of them shouted. “We’re going to get you!”
“Oh, I’d love to see you try,” She grunted before she pulled herself over the railing and onto the roof. She looked back down at the angry mob of men and memorized their faces. Raising her middle finger promptly, she sent them a smirk. “See you, bitches.”
She felt for her bag once more as a precautionary habit for reassurance before making a dead sprint towards the ledge of the roof. She leaped, inches away from falling off, and soared, from one building to the next, her nimble feet light and her breaths puffed and quick.
The actual city itself was a maze, a concrete jungle of buildings that look like the other.
But once on top?
Summer could reign it just as if the city was hers.
From roof to roof she jumped fearlessly. She had learned from those years of being a rebellious and reckless teen how to tuck her head and bend her knees and roll over when doing these jumps, and then she had further learned how to be quick, nimble and quiet during the years she’d survive as a thief.
At the edge of Uncle Jim and Auntie Cottie’s Cottage, she swung her legs over and lowered herself down onto the fire escape. Breathing deep, she felt her lungs burn as she descended the stairs. There was a loud shout and the sound of glass shattering as she bounded down the last couple of steps.
Looked like Jim and Cottie were at it again. Pity. They made a mean quesadilla and their salsa was amazing. Whatever they had that was going wrong, Summer hoped they worked it out soon. After all, they gave her free tacos at 2 am on Wednesdays when they got too drunk, and won a big sum during their weekly gambles.
Summer pushed her greasy hair out of her eyes as she began her familiar path into the woods. She tiredly pushed her way through low hanging branches, her feet used to the same route she walked each day. She weaved through the tree trunks easily, dodging the holes in the soil like it was second nature.
“Jesus,” She breathed as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the weariness weigh down on her muscles. She winced as she felt the painful tug on her left shoulder. She had been feeling a sore tenseness there for a couple of days now, but it’d go away. At least, she hoped so.
It had to; it wasn’t like Summer could visit a clinic or attend physiotherapy or something. Those things cost more than her entire life.
After trekking through the forest, following the winding roads that were imprinted with her footsteps, she finally came into a small clearing.
She gave the depressing looking hut that sat in the middle of it a fatigued look and let out a deep sigh.
“Home sweet home,” She muttered as she began her way towards it.
It was a shitty thing, what she called her home, it really was, but still. She guessed it was… something, which was better than nothing, may it be shit or not.
Summer had stumbled upon the hut a few years back when she had decided to be adventurous and roam the forest. It was a shitty and pathetic thing, with walls of wood put together by crooked nails, an unhinged door that had collapsed to the inside, and unfinished windows.
It was literally falling apart, but Summer took pity on it, sympathized with the way it resembled her own life, and decided to make it her own.
The corners were covered with the intricate designs of cobwebs, and the layer of dust was terrifying thick, and there had been a secret lair of termites lying around somewhere, and there had been thorny plants growing along the sides.
But it had a roof, a door, four walls…
And then there was the isolation from the world. The idea of just that itself already made it better than the streets.
At least in the forest, the animals just growl and hiss for a show of dominancy.
In the concrete sort of jungle, the animals weren’t so forgiving, weren’t so kind. There, they had evolved. They weren’t scared to lurk out of the shadows, no. They were smarter, understood the world, learned from it, theorized it.
In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. And humans were made with the image of God, by the word of God.
And through the same way humans learned how to destroy the world by using what it was made up of, humans learned the way to kill was through the word.
Intelligence has given men the power of God.
But instead of creating life, they called upon death.
Yes, humans had become smart. Just as their intellect grew, so did their brutality. They began to make weapons and held them unwaveringly; clutching onto their guns loaded with bullets of perceived righteousness, and knives coated with the sharpness of words that pierced the heart the same way fangs pierced the skin.
They sent their children to school, to educate them, when all they did was mould them into miniature versions of themselves, only difference was they perfected them, made them into the ideal image society had presented. They said, ‘the world out there is unfair, kid’, when the reason why the world was cold was because they made it so.
Right. Civilization. That was what they called it.
But no matter how much they educate themselves, how much they claim to have advanced from the wild animals, Summer knew they were no different from them, for they still hungered the same way those beasts do, but for flesh torn from the sharpness of words, for water bled dry from tears of pain and anguish.
They still had the same primal instincts to look down on what they labelled ugly, as things below themselves, as animals, when they all still had the same demon, same monster, lurking beneath the skin of what they called being civilised.
Humans are strange. They yearn for attention but scold those who do. They pity themselves but don’t give it to those to need it. They ask for forgiveness and love when they didn’t offer the same. They scream and they cry about their lives being a hell, when they’re the very same devil in someone else’s life.
But thing was, this was never going to change.
This, they could never evolve from.
This, was the very essence of what human nature was.
And Summer would know, because, God bless her soul, she was only human too.
So Summer, as human as she was, tiredly dragged her feet towards the hut and opened the creaky door of the shack and shuffled inside. It wasn’t big, most of the space occupied by boxes. But it was enough for her. There was a water boiler and a microwave, both of which she bought in a backyard sale, a small electric heater for the colder days, a pile of clothes, and layers of bedsheets to make a bed.
Summer was still saving up for a blow-up mattress. Heard they were nice.
Summer fell onto what she dubbed as her bed and groaned at its hardness. She blinked up at the ceiling, so fucking tired, and weakly, her bleak vision faded away as her eyelids drooped shut.
Summer sometimes wished she had more. Believe it or not, she sometimes wished that she could go to college, and that she could really learn something, and get a degree, get a job. Rent a flat that she could pay with the money she earned. She wished she could smile at people and people would smile back.
She wished she could go out with friends, and play with those children she saw every day at the park and that when she does, their parents wouldn’t pull them away in fear of the rotten, dirty lady. She wished she could eat food she paid for herself, and not steal.
And, fuck, she wished she had someone to blame on, but she knew, God, she knew, that it was her own fault why she could never be able to.
“It’ll get better,” She’d say softly to herself as she held herself tight, on those nights when she couldn’t fall asleep, when the thought of death flirted with her. She’d shut her eyes tight and tell herself, “It’ll all get better. I promise.”
Yet for the 25 years she’d been born into the cruel world, that hadn’t seem to happen yet.
Was she stupid or naïve to be so hopeful?
Both, she decided. It’d have to take both to be so fucking hopeful, after all these while.
But just as the most brilliant star in the sky burn out, so would her hope. And with it, her will to live.
Honestly, where was the point anyway? What was she even doing on this earth? If she died today, would anyone care?
No.
No one would.
So why?
Why was she still waiting? Why in hell was she still waiting for that something that’d come and show her that her stupid glimmer of hope wasn’t all in vain, that maybe she was there for some reason?
She was growing impatient. She was growing so sick of playing this waiting game, getting so fucking sick of expecting something, anything, good out of her life, because, really, nothing is. And God, she wishes that it wasn’t like this, that there was some light she could make out of this situation, and that she had some sort of lifeline she could grasp onto but there is nothing.
She was just falling at this point.
Down, and down, and down.
Where was the end?
Was there none?
She came to this earth alone, lived in it alone, so what other sense than to leave it alone?
Winter was cold but the world was colder.
Some nights, Summer would cower and repent, plead, and chant the Lord’s Prayer they had thought in the orphanage, repeating it like it was what kept her alive.
Other nights, she’d have a smile on her face, and tell herself that it was a good day, and that everything was looking up.
But not tonight.
Tonight, was not that sort of night.
Summer opened her eyes gently and carefully used the back of her hand, which were relatively clean to wipe the tear under her eyes.
Tonight, she felt… nothing. It was one of those days where she felt just… empty. Like she had no clue as to what she was doing, yet she went through those motions her body told her to do. But her heart was heavy in her chest, she felt so lost, and…
Scared.
Summer hated feeling scared.
So she clenched her fists and bit on her tongue and inhaled a deep breath.
“That’s enough thoughts for today,” She flashed a bitter smile, the side of her lip curling up resentfully. “It’s enough for the entire week.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” She pushed herself up and peeled open her bag. She unwrapped a caramel candy that she refuses to believe she stole (after all, it was out there in that fancy bowl; it was all for grabs, really) and popped it in her mouth before fishing through her day’s catch.
“2, 4, 6, 7…” She mumbled as she counted the tinned cans. She also managed to get a loaf of bread from the bakery. It was from the clearance area, but it was still edible. She also got a sack of 500g potatoes, which she supposed she could heat up and dip in ketchup.
Summer did the calculations in her head. Come winter, she’d probably only need to head out once biweekly. As she stored the cans away, she felt like a wild animal, preparing for winter hibernation, and sometimes she thought she might as well be one.
She fitted better in the forest than in the city anyway. She was more afraid of businessmen trampling over her with their polished shoes than of the snakes that slithered and hissed at night.
Sighing, she picked out the parcel that she had stolen from the man in the dark suit. It wasn’t heavy, but it was thick. She carefully picked at the sides and began to open it up. Carefully, she tore open the packaging and—
Holy mother of sweet baby Jesus.
Summer paused, blinking, confused as shit and wondering at first if it were her eyes that was playing tricks on her.
Breathing out slowly she touched the contents delicately, cautiously.
“Shit.” She muttered to herself, her breaths shaky at this point. “Well I’ll be damned.”
All she could do was stare, with an undecipherable feeling settling at the pit of her stomach, at the wads of cash (10,000 dollars, she later learned) sitting in the packaging paper.
She wondered to be happy or very, very afraid.
The latter seemed to find its way to her faster.
But hey, at least now she can buy that blow-up mattress she had always wanted.
---
“Fuck!”
Summer hissed softly as she dipped her legs into the river.
It was freezing cold. Hypothermia-inducing cold. Summer knew she should’ve bathed a little earlier when the sun actually wasn’t a myth, but she knew she couldn’t drag it to the next day either. She needed to clean those gashes before they got worse.
The winter wind blew harshly against her skin and she wondered if she should just die from an infected wound or hypothermia. Both didn’t sound very pleasant.
“Come on now, don’t be a pussy.” Summer chanted to herself. “You can do this… you’re bad ass… You a touch bitch...”
She lowered herself carefully into the water body, and sucked in a deep breath, hollowing her cheeks as all her wounds came in contact with the cold, cold water.
“Fuck, fuck… fuck!” She repeated through clenched teeth. The cold was one thing, and the sting of it against her multitude of bloodied gashes was another.
She knew she was freaking stupid for being so careless, walking around unarmed and wearing the same clothes as yesterday in the same area. Those men had found her, cornered her and beaten her up. She was lucky to have been able to escape them.
Given, she escaped with a black eye, busted lips, a broken rib and a previously dislocated shoulder, and that knife guy did some pretty serious damage, but at least she escaped before death found her.
Restlessness filled her as she wondered what in the actual world was she supposed to do with all that money. A hundred thousand dollars was quite an amount. More than Summer’s life, it was worth. She couldn’t possibly keep the money.
Summer was a thief, but considering the terrible things people were doing nowadays, on a scale of crimes, Summer was pretty disappointing.
Heck, the most expensive thing she’s ever stolen was Belgium caramel chocolates and she still felt sorry for taking it (it was limited edition, came in a nice golden box). She wasn’t a terrible, evil criminal; she still had a sense of what was right and what was wrong, and to take 100,000 dollars that wasn’t hers was wrong.
Well, wrong-er than her usual theft of $2.99 baked beans, that’s for sure.
The thinking was starting to give her a headache so she turned her attention back to her body as she began to assess some of the wounds, washing out the dirt and the dried out blood. As she did, she couldn’t help observing her body.
She was definitely not attractive in any way. She was way underweight, with protruding ribs and gangly arms. She wasn’t all that tall, average, maybe, and the last time she had a haircut was when she owned scissors.
And it’s been a long time since she trusted herself with those.
She brushed her fingers over her abdomen. She was really pale, too, and her body had many ugly scars, some from her stupid high school years and some from running away from people after her.
And then there were those she gave herself, as a reminder.
She didn’t have those… curves either, and on days when she saw those girls on posters outside those high street stores she could never ever set foot in, she couldn’t help degrading herself.
And it wasn’t like she had a sort of secret talent or anything. She was stupid, never paying attention in class, and she wasn’t creative either. She danced like a twig, and had the artistic abilities of a chicken.
Like, honestly, make her poor, make her an orphan, but, heaven almighty, at least give her something to shout about.
Grumbling, she continued to scrub her body, getting rid of the dirt and grime. Sighing, she tore her eyes away from her not so attractive body. Suddenly, she heard a twig snap.
She ceased her movements. Nothing lurked in these areas… nothing predatory… nothing big enough to break branches…
Carefully, she lifted her body from the stream and quickly threw on her sweater and sweatpants (it was preferred that she didn’t die naked). She had a small pocketknife at her disposal, as well as whatever nature provided.
A loud crunch sounded again. Hurriedly, she ducked behind a tree.
Then she heard it, the murmurs of voices.
“Dr Petrov,” It was a thick, deep voice, with what Summer believed was a German accent. “I have been very lenient with you. You know that, don’t you? That I treat you such outmost respect and kindness?” In a lower tone, his voice sounded again, “Do you take that as a weakness, doctor?”
“N-No, sir, of course not,” Another voice, the doctor, spoke, in a much more timid voice. “But you see, it is hard… you know that. Your father, he too, had much hope in this project but you can see, it only ruined himself… I, I can’t ruin that for you too, so, you understand, I have to take extra precautions—”
“These precautions you speak of,” German cut in. “They seem to take an awful bit of time.”
“Of course, I am trying to be very precise… careful,” Dr Petrov responded. “When Druyt and Odilie ran, sir, they took everything but the list of symptoms, including severe hallucinations, and even extended periods of fainting. It will lead to lunacy—”
“Trust me, doctor, you have nothing to worry about. Lunacy is not a foreign particle in my body. For only in the eyes of those crazy enough can they start to understand the incomprehensible laws of the world.” German laughed, the sound eerie, like it belonged in a horror movie.
“Sir, you don’t understand. It was a very dangerous procedure, and the anaesthetic itself is a large enough dosage to damage your nerve cells, which results in the process not being effective.” The doctor pushed on desperately. “Give me a couple of months, sir, I just do not wish to put your life, as our leader, on the line.”
There was a pause. “One and a half. I will be patient until the winter solstice—”
Crunch.
Fuck… my… life…
So this was how Summer was going to die. From falling over on her butt onto a pile off fallen leaves. She thought she was going to die a little more heroically, but the world just loved fucking with her dreams.
Summer heard the footsteps and her heart was beginning to pound heavily, fear settling itself into the depths of her stomach. Was this really her time to go?
But she hadn’t even gotten a job yet, she hadn’t even visited a different country yet, and fuck, she hadn’t even bought that blow-up mattress yet.
She realized how much of her life she had wasted.
The sound of a gun cocking alive alerted Summer of the nearing presence of death. She felt the cold sweat that coated her palms.
Maybe it was for the better of the world if she died anyway.
She deserved it.
Summer began to close her eyes and recite the Lord’s Prayer, in hopes of Him saving a spot for her in heaven (Summer nearly chuckled at the thought of that, but she tried anyway).
So, there, with her butt on the dirt and her hair still soggy, she prayed, tried to muster as much genuineness as possible in that corrupted heart of hers, as her lips mouthed the scripture pathetically, clutching her shaking hand against her desperate heart.
She hoped the Lord, or whatever omnipotent, celestial being out there—could be Hades for all she knew—would be merciful to her.
At least make her afterlife a little less painful.
Before she could say Amen, a loud gunshot rang out, and she shrieked. Eyes glued shut and nails pressed down so hard on her palms it’d leave scars, she awaited death.
At last, you have your wish.
But the Lord seemed to have a different plan for her.
The impact of the gun’s cry never reached the side of her head.
Instead, a large palm pressed down on her mouth and pushed her to the side, spinning her in the process. She could feel the built front of a person against her back, and she attempted to scream but the gloved hand was pressed tightly down her mouth, her cries weak and muffled. She was madly trashing about but another arm was wrapped around her torso, as strong as metal, forcing her down.
“Don’t move,” A man’s voice whispered from behind her. “Don’t panic.”
Summer hoped he realized how stupid his instructions were.
But the palpitations stopped a little at the comforting sound of his words, how tempting it would be to just surrender to those words, and follow those instruction. Summer almost found herself doing so—it wasn’t hard to, he had this deep authoritative voice.
Suddenly, a bright beam of light shone down onto Summer and upon looking up, she realized there was a big black copter above her and having freaked out, she hadn’t noticed that there were men and women in black surrounding her, and the forest was filled with the sound of ringing bullets. She tried to turn to look at her captor (who smelled very strongly of… grapes?), but his strong arm still refused to allow her any freedom in movement.
“You stay here, and don’t you dare move or make a sound,” He said again, his voice low. Summer couldn’t help note how rich and deep his voice was. “I mean that.” He growled again, the sound sending tingles down Summer’s spine. His breath down against her back felt warm and the tight grip around her body made her feel…
Safe?
She didn’t know the feeling of that very well.
As soon as the hands left her mouth and her body and Summer felt his overwhelming presence leave, she immediately got into action and moved.
Like, did he really think that she was going to fucking stay there while there was a mass shooting around her?
She managed to get about 3 feet (she kept closing her eyes and shrieking softly under her breath every time a trigger was pulled, which was frighteningly often) before she felt a hand on her arm again.
But it wasn’t the man from before.
He didn’t smell like grape and he was a little shorter.
And he wasn’t as built, if Summer’s back sensory nerves were correct.
“You were ordered not to move, miss.”
“I only listen to people I can see, strangely enough.” Summer replied. Her voice trembled a little but she hoped the man didn’t pick up on that.
The man let out an impatient sigh. “Listen, I’m an agent with… a division of the government.”
“Oh, that’s supposed to make me trust you.” Summer deadpanned as the man held her in place with one hand, the other pulling out some form of identification.
“I’m here to protect you.” He continued. Summer gave the tight grip on her shoulder a look. It was beginning to hurt, but she wasn’t going to say that. “You do not know the danger of what is going on around here, and I assume you expect a… an explanation, so I’m going to bring you back to the headquarters, okay?”
Summer looked incredulous. The man waited patiently for an answer, but Summer could tell she didn’t really have an option.
Was the still clenched hand on her shoulder not a clue big enough?
“Are you seriously expecting me to just follow you, agent from a division of the government?”
There was a pause. “Yes, because we are the good guys.”
This elicited a devilish grin on Summer’s face. “Are you?” She dropped the grin. “But I’m the bad.”
The agent hesitated and Summer could feel his hand press down on her harder. “I’m sorry, miss, but you’ll have to come with us…” His voice was reduced to a monotonous, pre-memorized script and Summer couldn’t help chuckle in disbelief. “We’re afraid it’d be too dangerous for you to be out here in the city for a while.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about me,” She tried to push against the man.
“Miss, this is an order from… a division of the government, if you don’t willingly come, I’m afraid I’ll have to use more violent ways.” He warned.
“Well, man from a division of the government, this is a free country,” She plastered a smile as she tried again to distance herself from the agent.
She should’ve noticed what his other hand was reaching for.
A cool metal touched her wrists and she froze, recognizing the feeling all-too-well.
“Sorry Miss, but these are the procedures I’m mandated to follow.”
Summer wished she could’ve done something, could’ve pushed him or kicked him in the balls, could’ve done something, anything, to save herself from what she knew was going to happen, but she just stood there, frozen.
“Relax, we won’t hurt you. Don’t you worry.”
“Don’t you worry at all, baby doll…”
Then, a second later, the sudden surge of panic registered her.
But it was a second too late.
“Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing?” Summer struggled against the chains but the agent had already pressed down on the lock. Summer suddenly felt like she was being put into a very small and very scary cage. Her head was spinning as she tried to push the guy away with her bounded hands, using her whole body to try to get away. Her motions were hysterical, her fingers were trembling, and she felt weak to her knees, and her world was spinning crazy fast.
If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she was going crazy, or having a heart attack, but she did know better.
The first time Summer had felt like this though, she thought she was fucking dying. She had been sweating, choking, with sudden feverish flashes riling her whole body into a wrecking mess. She was hurting all over, and she was losing control of her own body, writhing like a possessed spirit on the dirt.
She thought was devil was finally there to collect his prize.
She used to believe she’d go without a fight.
But, as much as she loved to think she was fucking invincible, she was probably the most cowardly person there was.
She had woken up, face damp with confused tears, and body curled up into a ball in the middle of the forest floor.
And the she just sat there.
She sat there, on the soil, with the moon and stars shining down on her, giving her light but all she could comprehend was the darkness engulfing her. Her tears fell but she wasn’t crying. Her heart was empty, like whatever had happened just ripped out all its contents, leaving her just as overwhelmed as she was helpless.
And then she pushed herself up, grabbed her satchel, and limped back to her hut.
Too weak to hold him back, she let the devil loose that night, allowing him to rampage through her mind, destroying, demolishing every last bit of her rationality.
Nothing new.
She guessed she just had to put everything back together in the morning.
But she was sick of doing that.
So when the man began to drag her, she resisted with all her might, crazed hands urgently doing whatever she could. Her breathing began to fasten as she wrestled against the metal confinements. She didn’t care as they burned against her skin, she just wanted them off.
“Okay, I’ll go with you, just take it off please.” She tried to negotiate as the man began to tug her towards the left.
“I’m sorry I can’t do that. I did warn you, though, miss.” He grunted. “Now don’t be even more difficult.”
And then he just had to fucking say it. “Everything will be over soon.”
Summer snapped. One moment she was hot, the next she was cold. Her eyes were being blinded by flashes of colour, bright reds and blues and—
Him.
Those mocking brown eyes, and that stench of cheap perfume, and those smacking lips…
“No, no!” She screamed. “Take this, take this off,” She began to plead. “No, take this off. I’ll go anywhere, please… I promise, I promise I’ll be good…good… so good…”
Hands down her body, bruises resembling fingerprints all over her body, contaminating her ivory skin, slaughtering what was left of her pride.
Coarse and empty pleas crying out repeatedly, “Please, please…”
“Please…”
Cackles of evil men, eyes blinded by a piece of cloth. Hands constrained by metal. She tries to scream but a gag mutes her.
But she can hear everything.
And she can feel everything.
Summer’s vision was beginning to blur and she could feel the familiar way her whole world was beginning to spin.
“Please, please, I don’t, I don’t want this, I really promise I’ll do anything you want, anything,” She felt the dampness against her cheeks as she stumbled backwards, her world tilting.
Anything...
Lips, tasting like booze and cigarettes, moving on her neck, making her feel so sick and she tries to push him off, but she can’t. Her legs are tied apart and her hands tied together.
And she’s trapped, a body above her, and a cuff against her.
She would do anything just to get away from those sweaty palms and rancid lips, anything just to feel like she was a human, not a rag doll.
She felt darkness consuming her as she tipped backwards. Something cold pressed against her left arm while her head collided with something hard. She had lost her hearing but she was still mouthing those desperate words, hoping that they would take pity on her.
Please...
Suddenly she felt the soft fingers grazing against the insides of her wrists and the soft sound of a click made its way into her head. Her hands fell to her sides as she stumbled backwards again.
An arm made its way around her waist.
The smell of grapes entered her nose.
“Calm down,” The authoritative voice sounded. “Breathe.”
It was soft and hesitant, but she found herself listening to those words of a stranger.
But it was a stranger that had saved her life.
Sounds pretty trustworthy.
Summer could use some trust.
“You’ll be okay,” The man assured. Summer knew that the promise was ridiculous and empty but still she grasped onto it.
“T-thank… Thank you,” She managed to get out just as she completely lost her grip on her consciousness, entering a dream land.
This time she wished she didn’t have to come back to reality too quickly.
---