Theophany

A shard of glass slipped away from Severity's fingers, the tip tinged with her own blood. Another failed suicide attempt. Her hands shook as she cleaned up her tear-stained face and looked in the broken mirror propped up in the dingy bathroom, connected to the equally dingy bedroom. She also wiped at her neck, where there was a another trickle of blood forming. She could not even muster the courage to free herself from this world. This world that decided she would be nothing more than someone's bitch.

Her family were the original survivors of this base, her birthplace. They had lived quietly and discretely, until she turned thirteen. That year, four people came. They had welcomed the stragglers, and wanted to build a community. In return, they had slaughtered everyone but her, the only other female aside from her mother, who thankfully was shot in the head, before anything more degrading could happen to her.

Now, three years later after being raped by one of the men her family welcomed, Severity was still considered his whore.

The door opened and heavy footsteps could be heard. Before she even turned, she already knew the Boss was here. He was a formidable man and carried with him an unmistakable aura of authority. His dark hair, matching his dark eyes was cut crisp and short. As he took off his undershirt, his tan skin was riddled with an assortment of scars, bruises and stitches, his muscles flexing as he moved. She had thought it disgusting before, but now she took a sick pleasure in knowing he had also suffered over these years.

“You know what to do,” his voice was deep and reverberated in the quiet room.

Automatically, she began undoing the light robe covering her figure. If she got over it quick, he would leave her be. She lay on the bed, and he followed over her, dwarfing her with his size. He began kissing her lustfully. The bastard tasted of jerky and alcohol. He pried her legs apart and started painfully forcing himself in her, bringing about a small cry. As the bed started rocking, and his motions became sharper, she willed herself to choke down an overwhelming sense of hatred and disgust at the filth that was happening to her. It was painful, even now, but not as much as before. The first couple of times, she bled. She didn't bleed much anymore though. Sometimes, she wouldn't bleed for a couple of months, but then when she did, it would be so much more excruciating.

At other times, to her utter revulsion, it would be easier when she pretended she loved him and he loved her. But then it would be over, and she would be painful all over again. And her heart would ache. He would lay beside her for a while, as he was doing now, after finishing after an hour or so, and it would be like something was crushing her heart. Like a black hole was sucking it inwards. Then the tears would come, and she would will herself dead. Except she always lived. No matter how much she wanted to die, and on more than one occasion, had the means to end it, a small part of her always whispered some sort of declaration that there would be something else for her life.

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A silent, thin, but muscular man, masked and clothed in what could only be explained like a lightly armored burglar, perched on the rooftop of a low, wrecked building. It was overlooking an abandoned highway, where a certain scene, that both frustrated and raised his curiosity, had unfolded. He waited until last of the three humans he found had left the highway. One was a man, who moved like a snake, the other a woman, and the third an adolescent boy. They were sloppy and loud. Especially the snakelike man. He looked like he was making noise on purpose, and never ventured too far from their sniper. It seemed like he had wanted to lure in just enough creatures to get to one of his own. Suspicious, very suspicious. Did he want the woman dead?

Predictably, the nighties started showing up. Frankly, they would've had more on their plate had he not eradicated the rest of the nighties that were alerted by the snake's banging. Outside of the sniper's range, more were making their way towards the band of idiots. He had killed about eight, mostly with his bow, some with his sword. Excellent silent weapons, given you were accurate, both with the shots and slashes.

He trailed them without a sound as the boy and woman stomped their way towards some sort of vehicle. Did these people not know how to be quiet? It was like following a herd of bull rogs. To be safe, he turned on the invisibility feature of his armor, since his radar told him of some activity getting nearer to their location. Taking out his modified dart gun, while staying in the shadows, he shot a tiny tracker that landed on the back of the vehicle. These two showed some promise, at least.