Atonement
"As just as it is appointed for man to die once, after that comes judgement."
She ran; ran as fast as her small legs could take her. She ran for her life. Even if her legs burned and her lungs gasped for air, she couldn't stop running. Not yet, not now.
But she suddenly stopped and surveyed her surroundings. She was in the middle of a clearing, quite far from the forest. The Siberian wilderness offered her no solace and instead terrified her more. Her body shook; not because her feet had frostbite or because of her hands which were numb already. She could feel them lurking behind those trees and that scared her.
Then she fell to her knees, hastily unslinging the M1891 from her shoulder. Her small hands dug inside her pockets, taking out a round of .30 caliber bullets but her hands started to shake and she dropped them on the snow. Maybe it was the cold affecting her more than she thought.
"Дерьмо!"
She bit her lip and choked back a sob as she tried to pick up the bullets; but her hands were still shaking and she dropped them again. Yes, now she knew that it was the cold affecting her. Cradling her numb hands to her chest, tears flowed freely down her bloodied and bruised face.
From far away, a wolf's howl echoed throughout the forest, making her head snap up in surprise and she forced herself to stop shaking. After picking up the bullets, she loaded them in the rifle in record time as her eyes frantically darted from the treeline, searching for any sign of living, and to her gun. And then two pair of red eyes, glinting under the moon light, appeared.
They found her.
Biting her lip so hard until it drew blood, she took aim at the men - more or less - 700 meters from her. She was very sure that they could see her as well as she could see them. After all, they had been born with the same eyes as hers.
Her heart was pounding; fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she fixed her aim again and pulled the trigger. A ghost of a smirk appeared on her face but it quickly disappeared. Her eyes widened when she saw only one fall. She searched frantically for the other one but she couldn't see him.
No, no, no! This can't be!
Then she saw him standing behind a bush with his rifle aimed at her. This was a serious risk to take but it was an opportunity that she shouldn't let go. She aimed and then pulled the trigger, the sound of the gunshot echoing in the wilderness. But suddenly a bullet grazed her cheek and another one went inside the barrel of her gun just as she pulled the trigger. She froze in her spot. Her gun was jammed and she had nowhere to run to.
Her mind raced with thoughts as she saw the man jog towards her. Should she run or should she surrender?
When he was at least 5 feet away, she slowly brought her hands up in surrender, her right hand holding the rifle. She slowly stood up, and as a last resort, she threw the gun at him, hitting him right in the face. He staggered and she took that opportunity to run away. She would take every chance she got to escape. After all, she was out of ideas.
But she was too slow. A string of curses in Russian left her mouth when he tackled her from behind, knocking the wind out of her.
"Это вам не в любом месте, автокар," he snarled, his rancid breath hitting her face. He slowly unslung the M1891 rifle that he had and forced her mouth open, shoving the gun barrel inside. He laughed maniacally at the sight of her gagging, tears coming out of her eyes.
"Умереть, автокар," was the only thing she heard before he pulled the trigger.
Maria suddenly sat up in her bed, her hands grasping her throat as she gasped for air. She heaved as she grasped the sheets beside her and looked around frantically. Cold sweat trickled down her neck and fear was creeping up in her mind.
Was that a dream? No, she couldn't call it a dream. It was a memory; a memory that she had kept locked away in her mind.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Shutting her eyes tightly, she forced the memory back into the deep recesses of her mind. She just wanted to forget about it so bad.
But she knew deep down that she can never forget about the past.
But she suddenly stopped and surveyed her surroundings. She was in the middle of a clearing, quite far from the forest. The Siberian wilderness offered her no solace and instead terrified her more. Her body shook; not because her feet had frostbite or because of her hands which were numb already. She could feel them lurking behind those trees and that scared her.
Then she fell to her knees, hastily unslinging the M1891 from her shoulder. Her small hands dug inside her pockets, taking out a round of .30 caliber bullets but her hands started to shake and she dropped them on the snow. Maybe it was the cold affecting her more than she thought.
"Дерьмо!"
She bit her lip and choked back a sob as she tried to pick up the bullets; but her hands were still shaking and she dropped them again. Yes, now she knew that it was the cold affecting her. Cradling her numb hands to her chest, tears flowed freely down her bloodied and bruised face.
From far away, a wolf's howl echoed throughout the forest, making her head snap up in surprise and she forced herself to stop shaking. After picking up the bullets, she loaded them in the rifle in record time as her eyes frantically darted from the treeline, searching for any sign of living, and to her gun. And then two pair of red eyes, glinting under the moon light, appeared.
They found her.
Biting her lip so hard until it drew blood, she took aim at the men - more or less - 700 meters from her. She was very sure that they could see her as well as she could see them. After all, they had been born with the same eyes as hers.
Her heart was pounding; fear and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she fixed her aim again and pulled the trigger. A ghost of a smirk appeared on her face but it quickly disappeared. Her eyes widened when she saw only one fall. She searched frantically for the other one but she couldn't see him.
No, no, no! This can't be!
Then she saw him standing behind a bush with his rifle aimed at her. This was a serious risk to take but it was an opportunity that she shouldn't let go. She aimed and then pulled the trigger, the sound of the gunshot echoing in the wilderness. But suddenly a bullet grazed her cheek and another one went inside the barrel of her gun just as she pulled the trigger. She froze in her spot. Her gun was jammed and she had nowhere to run to.
Her mind raced with thoughts as she saw the man jog towards her. Should she run or should she surrender?
When he was at least 5 feet away, she slowly brought her hands up in surrender, her right hand holding the rifle. She slowly stood up, and as a last resort, she threw the gun at him, hitting him right in the face. He staggered and she took that opportunity to run away. She would take every chance she got to escape. After all, she was out of ideas.
But she was too slow. A string of curses in Russian left her mouth when he tackled her from behind, knocking the wind out of her.
"Это вам не в любом месте, автокар," he snarled, his rancid breath hitting her face. He slowly unslung the M1891 rifle that he had and forced her mouth open, shoving the gun barrel inside. He laughed maniacally at the sight of her gagging, tears coming out of her eyes.
"Умереть, автокар," was the only thing she heard before he pulled the trigger.
Maria suddenly sat up in her bed, her hands grasping her throat as she gasped for air. She heaved as she grasped the sheets beside her and looked around frantically. Cold sweat trickled down her neck and fear was creeping up in her mind.
Was that a dream? No, she couldn't call it a dream. It was a memory; a memory that she had kept locked away in her mind.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. Shutting her eyes tightly, she forced the memory back into the deep recesses of her mind. She just wanted to forget about it so bad.
But she knew deep down that she can never forget about the past.