Chapter 46

“Who is it?” A deep and angered voice questioned from beyond the door. “What ya business ‘ere.”

“It’s me, ya old coot, open up!” The boy continued to knock until the other side finally conceded. After the door’s many locks had been undone, a large and bulky man came and greeted them with his menacing presence. Being shirtless, the crude ink markings that covered his chest were clearly visible.

“I ain’t no ‘old coot’, boy.” The man glared with malice, but that animosity quickly faded as his eyes met the little girl. “Oh, hello there…” The large man kneeled, however, he was still half a head taller than Anya. “Who’s ya little friend, boy?”

“Anya, that’s her name. She said she’s looking for something.”

“A generator…” the girl nervously gulped, “ a silent generator…”

“Oh... “ the man let out a wide smile, “well then come’n.”

Anya was hesitant, the man’s expressions were somewhat off-putting and made her unnerved. Still, she followed closely behind the boy as he entered the shack. The large man quickly closed the door behind them and remained there, standing.

Much like the outside, the room was poorly lit. Its interior was illuminated by a flickering flame at the center of the room. Two other men sat in wooden chairs near the fire. One of which was fat and bald, the other scrawny and jittery.

“Umm… Rock…?” Anya muttered.

Suddenly, fierce laughter broke out amongst the men. The boy seemed very much unfazed, however, Anya became ever more confused and terrified.

“Oi… umm… Rock!” the fat one blurted, chuckling and coughing. “Ya brought a fine one, ain’t ya.” he licked his lips, wetting them with viscous drool. “I fancy ma’self some high class. Ya know wha’mean.”

A shiver went down Anya’s spine and she scooted even closer to the boy.

“I-I think we’re at the wrong p-place… We should leave...” But when the girl turned around, she was faced with the large bulky man who blocked the door.

“Where do ya think ya going, little girl? We just met, ain’t we?” the bulky man pulled a revolver from his pocket and pressed it directly against Anya’s forehead. “Why not stay a little longa?”

“What about me?” the boy spoke in a panicky tone, “She’s rich from what I can tell.”

“Grab a coin bag from that box.” The bulky man commanded, gesturing its location with his head. “Then get outta ‘ere.”

The boy quickly retrieved his prize and made a mad dash for the exit.

“Rock?!” Anya yelled in desperation. “What… what’s going on…?”

The boy slowed down but did not stop or face her.

“Sis…” he said, not daring to turn around. “my name ain’t rock…”

Anya stood, speechless, a surge of shock and despair froze her as the door slammed shut.

“Oi, Fatty!” The bulky man shouted, “Come ‘ere n tie up the little fancy.”

The overweight man stood up, slightly struggling as he reached for the rope. “Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” he squeaked. “Tis me favorite part.”

Before the fat one even approached, a wave of stench, composed of sweat and horrid body odor, struck Anya’s nose and almost made her gag. The stink only became worse as he approached as if she was assaulted by a new wave of foulness with each step.

“Now hold still little pretty…” he whispered into her ear. “I ain’t wanna hurt ya… not until later a’least…” The bald man giggled and Anya’s entire body cringed.

“Get her bag n gun. Check what she ‘ave” The bulky man then turned his full attention to the unmoving child. “Move and I’ll blow ya head ta’bits.” He tapped his revolver against her forehead repeatedly, as if to further his point.

Although the fat one tugged on the girl’s satchel and rifle with brutish force, Anya held on tightly and refused to concede.

“Oi,” snorted the putrid one, “she’s fight’n back. What says ya we give a little punishment... Huh-Huh-Huh!”

“EH!” The large man swung his hand and struck Anya’s face with the bottom of his revolver, knocking her over and onto the ground. “I told ya I’ll blow ya fucken head ta’bits, ya little shit!”

The little girl laid on the floor, silent, covering her cheek with her hand. Her face could not be seen as her hair obstructed it. Her body trembled, meanwhile quiet sniffles could be heard.

Seeing an opportunity, the fat one quickly stripped the child of her belongings.

"Ha-ha! Got ya!" He taunted, then he began savagely rummaging through her belongings. Things that did not interest him were simply tossed aside like scraps of trash.

“Da little pretty’s got some bullets. Dat gun wasn’t for just show!” Next, he pulled out the sapphire card and stared at it in awe. “Was dis? Fancy card?”

“T-That’s, that-that-that’s not just any f-f-fancy card-d!” The scrawny man, who has been silent this entire time suddenly jumped to life. Stuttering and shaking as he clattered his decaying teeth. “T-T-Tis a fa-fancy place! Ri-Rich! She’s ri-rich!”

“Oi Shakie, ya sure bout dis?”

“I-I-I-I can’t be wr-wr… wrong!”

Tossing the satchel aside, the bald man began to inspect the rifle.

“Tis a good rifle ‘ere, is thinkin” he ran his sweaty palms across the surface of the weapon, turning and flipping it carelessly. “Mmmm… tis smooth like’a smooth little bum…” He spat on the rifle’s stock and rubbed it in with his palm. “Oi? It says Anna! Ya name ain’t Anna, ain’t ya? She ya ma?” The fat man kneeled and hovered over Anya, releasing a cloud of putrid vapor with every breath. "Is she a pretty? Well dis Anna’s gonna give us some good money, an all thanks to dis little pretty, ain’t it so?”

“Give… it… back…”

“What? What did ya say…? ‘Give it back?’” the fat man mocked while snickering. “Why don’t ya beg ‘pretty please’ den?”

“Hurry up and tie the little bitch!” the ink-marked man dictated, “Before she get any ideas.” He pulled back the hammer on the revolver and aimed at the child’s head. “Ain’t nothin’ you got can beat ma gun, best not do nothin’.”

“Aww, the little pretty’s too scare… She ain’t gonna move...” He pulled both of Anya’s hands behind her back and wrapped her wrists tightly with rope. When he was done, the man twirled his fingers down the length of her arm, smearing them with his moisture. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a piece of fabric sticking out of her cloak. “Was dis?!” He reached into Anya’s pocket, ensuring to feel around excessively first before abducting her coin bag from her possession.

The perverse one gauged the bag's weight by tossing it, twisting his face into a selfish smug as the coins clinked together. “We found ou’selves a little treasura, ain’t we?” Pressing his weight on her back he slithered his face just centimeters from her ear and licked it. The child wanted to scream, never had she felt this uncomfortable and disgusted.

“Little pretty mightta got more on’er, how bout I do a little check a’gan. Make sure we ain’t missing any… holes... know wa'mean...” The man licked his lips slower this time, slurping his saliva as he coated his orifice in goo.

Another shiver went up the girl's spine, but she was in no position to respond.

“Get offa ‘er. She’s got a good price on’er head.” The bulky man sank his foot deep into the fat one’s sides, sending him rolling away. “Shakie, lock’er up for now. We’ll find out ‘ere who to ask the money for later. And make sure Fattie ain’t touchin‘er, I ain’t want another like the last one.”

The jittering man ran to Anya, who still remained motionless on the ground, and grabbed the rope that bound her.

“C-C-C'mon little girl, don...don-don’t need to make t-t-this any har… har-har-harda.” Slowly, with the shaky man’s assistance, the girl rose to her feet. “Ain’t-ain’t-ain’t no… ain’t no worries, F-F-F-Fattie ain’t gonna touch ya.”

“Hurry up, Shakie. We ain’t got all day!”

“S-Stop i-i-it, B-B-Biggie. Ya scarin’er!” the jittering man directed Anya toward one of the doors leading out the room. “N-N-No… no one-one-one is g-gonna hurt ya, j-just be’ave will ya?”

Once past the door, a newer, and even more dreadful stench slammed into her face. The foulness of spoil and decay was so overwhelming and ghastly, the child gagged uncontrollably and nearly collapsed onto the ground.

“It-It-It ain’t that bad, i-i-is’it? We-we-we-we ain’t clean’d out m-m-much.”

Surrounding them, dimly lit by a lantern, were countless barrels. Rotting fluid seeped out from between the cracks as mold grew at every corner of the room. Though Anya was allowed a short moment of rest, she found it near impossible to adapt to her surroundings. The break did not last long, however, as the twitchy man forced her to continue, opening a locked door on the other side of the room.

“Go-go-go on den…” He gripped onto her shoulder and shoved her into the pitch black room. “L-l-l-look, be-be-be good. If-if-if ya nee-nee-need somethin’, call me a-a-alright? Rememba, I-I-I-I’m tha good one!” After locking the door, the twitchy man quickly left.

For a long moment, there was near silence. Only the sound of her captor’s wretched laugher traveled through the air.

“Stupid…” she muttered under her breath.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” First, it was light sobbing, but it was not long until she fully broke down. “Why am I so stupid!?” She cried. “Why didn’t I see that he was lying!? Why did I trust him!?” She wept and wailed, but nothing changed. She was still trapped, in a dark room all by herself. Anya fell to her knees in despair and pressed her head against the wall. Her tears dripped down from her cheeks, forming tiny puddles on the cold floor beneath her. For minutes, she could not do anything but lament her mistakes.

“... No…” the girl ceased her crying, but still, her voice cracked. “I’m not going to let them win…” In the background, the loud and obnoxious bursts of laughter continued.

Her sorrow began to fade and in its place, rage and resentment filled the internal void.

“Them… they are what’s wrong with this world… They… they are the problem… They are what makes everything so terrible… They… They need to die… All of them…”

With renewed resolve, the child attempted to free her arms. Unfortunately, they were too tightly bound. That would not stop her, however, as luck would have it, she was not fully searched. Carefully, she maneuvered her hidden tail out from under her dress and cloak. She then swayed the bladed edge back and forth against the rope until the binding eventually fell. By this time, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The sliver of light that trespassed from under the door allowed her to clearly grasp her surroundings. She began searching around, looking for anything she could use to her advantage. The only inventories that occupied the chamber with her were the previously dismembered rope and a large steel drum that sat in the corner. Anya had little faith that whatever the drum contained would be beneficial, but there was not much else she could work with. There was a slight, unwelcoming scent that hovered over the container. Her guess was that it held more rotten produce, and opening will bring her great regret. Anya knew that it was probably a bad idea, but her curiosity got the better of her. The child approached the barrel and carefully inspected it. Through her observation, she found that the entire circular top seemed to be a cap of sorts. There was a minuscule amount of space she could use to pry open the container. She jabbed her tail into the opening and pressed down on the end of the blade. Without much force, the top popped right off and clanked against the floor.

Bleh!

Just as she had suspected, the moment the top was removed, a terrible odor escaped. She immediately reached for the circular cap, but before she could seal the container, the doorknob had turned.

Clank!

She panicked and lost her grip, allowing the metal piece to fall onto the floor.

Time was running out as she would not be able to close off the container before the door opened. Thus, Anya decided to cut her losses and grabbed the broken rope. She quickly ran to one corner of the room and was able to hide her arms behind her back in the nick of time.

“Oi! Did ya miss me little pretty.” The fat man snorted.

The child's heart dropped, it was the last person she wanted to see.

With his hand holding open the door, the man's eyes leered at Anya from top to bottom with corrupted desire. “Wa ya doin somethin’?” He approached her slowly, scratching his crotch and showcasing the knife in his hand. Upon seeing the opened drum, a perverse grin stretched across his fat laced face.

“Ya seen’it, ain’t ya…?”

“S-Seen… what?” the child feigned ignorance, she needed the man to drop his guard. Though her heart pounded rapidly, she tried her best to remain calm. She had dealt with his kind before, and she could do so again.

The unsightly man dashed straight to the child and pressed his blade right up against her throat. He pressed the side of his oil-drenched face against hers and whispered. “I see ya been cryin’... ain't ya...? Now ya gon 'n woke mista willy… my little pretty…”

Anya froze, she did not understand what the man meant, but she understood that she was in a very bad position. With one misstep, her throat could be sliced wide open. The child had to be careful, so slowly and steadily, she slid her tail from under her dress, doing her best to keep it hidden as she prepared for the fatal strike.

“Dat one over there…” he began to pant, “dat little one ain’t listen… and now dat little one’s stuff’n a drum.” he inched the blade deeper into the child’s throat. “Ya... ya listen, ain’t ya...?

Anya was ready to strike, she knew she had one chance to completely immobilize her foe.

Uwaa! Anya suddenly shrieked, her tail retracted itself without her control. The man had placed his bloated hand around her waist, rubbing and stroking her weak spots.

“Ain’t that a cute little sound…” The man forcefully slid his hand down her back and pressed his finger into the clothing's crease. The girl, uncomfortable and unable to control her only weapon, could only softly yelp in distress. This only aroused her assailant further, as now something warm poked her thighs. “Ohh…? Little pretty’s hidin’ a blade, ain’t ya… Das no good..." The man began to sway his hips and tighten his grip. "I otta… remove it before ya get hurt... ain't I...?”

“F-F-FATTIE!” The loud call took them both by surprise and the fat man immediately backed off. Anya finally had room to breathe.

“A-A-A-Ain’t B-B-B-Biggie tell ya not’a do-do-do-do nothin’ to ‘er.

“Wha?! I ain’t doin nothin’!” The fat one screamed back, tucking the blade into his pocket.

“Ge-Ge-Get ya ass outa de-de-dere!”

The bald man wanted to argue, however, he feared to get his boss involved. Thus he begrudgingly began to leave, grumbling and mumbling in frustration and disappointment. After the presence disappeared, the jittery one began to speak.

“S-S-Sorry ya-ya-ya hada go through that.” The twitchy man sniffed and rubbed his nose. “W-W-We be leavin’ n-n-now…”

“Wait!” Anya shouted. “Wait… don’t go… please..." She lowered her head and allowed her hair to cover her face. "Hold me... please...”

The jittery man turned around, smiled and walked further into the room with a lantern in hand. He closed the door behind him and adjusted his pants.

“Wh-Wh-Wh-What’s w-w-wrong?”

“I… I’m scared…” she shivered let out a few desperate sobs. “Please stay…”

“Aww… I-I-I knew ya’d like me b-betta…” He hastily approached and pulled her closer, wrapping his hand around the little girl and pressing her head against his stomach. “D-D-D-Dere dere…” He spewed as he stroked his boney fingers through her hair.

Anya halted her shuddering, the room became quiet for a brief moment until she spoke again.

“Can… can I ask for a favor…?” Pleaded the child, her sadness all but gone from her voice.

The man grinned and blushed, his chest pounding with excitement.

“Wh-wh-what is it-”

Shnk

Without warning, the man's vision blurred as his body ceased to obey him. From his chest protruded a black blade, covered in his own thick blood. A searing pain, one of which he had never felt before blossomed from the wound. He wanted to scream in agony, to cry for help in face of the inhumane misery, but nothing would leave his mouth. It was then his sight shifted to the child.

She had lifted her head.

“Please…” she begged with a soft and sweet tune.

Her voice was childish and innocent, but the same could not be said of her expression.

The girl's eyes contained an indescribable ire, an uncontainable hatred. There was no forgiveness to be found, no chance of redemption. He was condemned, to a fate which he could not comprehend, to a prison where there is no escape.

“Can you help me…” she sang in her nectared voice.

“Kill. Them. All.”