Restitution
I admit I cheated this time (yes I cheated my own system, shush). I had the text before I had the music. So, naturally, the song does not fit perfectly, but alas here goes.
DISCLAIMER: This scene contains some brutality. So if thatâs not quite yours, Iâd advise you not to read it. Otherwise go right ahead!
The song used this time is (again) by The Secession and is called Restitution. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_UlMWtRmQM _______________________________________________________________
Wind ripped through her hair, entered her lungs just as quickly as it escaped again, seared through her like only freedom could. She was running. And she was running away.
Of course she was. They had expected it for some time now. Any moment she would pretend to be dead. Pretend life had drained out of her. Pretend so she could flee, when no one was looking. Thus she played along. Let them think they knew her. Let them think they could anticipate her every step. They knew nothing.
The trees which rushed past her were covered in snow. Bloody North. Always cold. Always hard to escape in. That of course was rather the point, she knew. The snow made it harder to run, the footsteps she left easier to follow. Therefore, the North posed a brilliant location for the Lab. Her prison.
She longed for her home, the warm, bright sun. The beaches nestled between the hills. The way the waves crushed against the rocks.
She shook her head. No. Not now. She would likely never see her home again. No use in pining then. She needed to focus. Take one step after the other. Breathe! In. Out. Focus.
A helicopter boomed over her, its lights steadily searching the area. Hastily she ducked under some bushes. It was probably naught; they would have infrared sensors, searching the area for heat signals. But as before she needed them to think they got her. That they were one step ahead.
Her hands were shaking, as she moved the snow-covered twigs out of her way and continued rushing forward. The sentinelâs blood - along with some of her own - was still clinging to her fingers. She had surprised him with her sudden resurrection. Otherwise she would have never been able to knock him out the way she did. Was he dead? Likely not. He was a soldier posted to guard a probably-not-so-dead girl. They wouldnât have sent someone fragile.
The barking of dogs ripped her out of her memories and she began running again. Her legs protested, sending jolts up her leg every step she took. But she couldnât stop. Not yet.
So she pushed on. Her breathing became ragged, her lungs burning. She could hear them closing in.
Faster, faster, she pushed herself on.
And surprisingly her body found yet some strength to let her fly over the deep snow. The barking grew distant until it was nothing more than a faint noise blending in with the helicopterâs quiet humming and her own breathing.
And for one moment she let herself believe. Maybe she had beaten them. Maybe she had escaped. Maybe she would see her beloved sea again.
Maybe she should have known better.
They were one step ahead. They always were. They had known where she would have headed. Directly into their arms.
A sentinel stepped out of the bushes and leveled his rifle at her.
Skittering she came to a halt and scrambled to the right only to find another soldier stepping out of the forestâs shadows. He aimed straight at her head.
Left, then. But there too was a person waiting.
She did not need to turn around to know someone else had sneaked up on her.
Panting and defeated she sunk to her knees, head down. She put her hands on the hard and snowy ground, the cold biting her skin. It was something she was used to after countless hours spend outside in the cold for experiments. As she tried to catch her breath she heard the sentinels talking into their walkie-talkies. Probably informing the others they had caught her. Not that she understood a single word. To her their language sounded more like a series of barks and hisses. She had long given up trying to understand them. It was no use anyway. If she didnât understand them, she got beaten for not listening. If she did, she got beaten for listening. There was no winning with them. As shown by her current situation.
One of the sentinels took a knee in front of her.
âYou really thought you could run, little troublemaker?â he said with a rough accent.
She simply closed her eyes. No. Of course not. She wasnât as naive as to think she stood a chance.
The soldier grabbed her by the hair pulling her head up to force her to meet his eyes. Cold, hard eyes those were. âI asked you something, troublemaker.â
âI...â she tried to say but her throat was raw. No use in talking, then. So she shook her head.
âGood. Good!â He released her, standing up. âThen why did you TRY?!â He kicked her arms out under her, causing her to slam face first into the solid snow. A short yelp escaped her lips.
Again she was pulled up by her hair but this time she was put on her feet. Her scalp burned with pain but she knew better than to complain. This was by far her least pressing problem. A nod by the sentinel who had dragged her up and his companions lowered their gun to her legs.
âNo running?â
She shook her head. No, she wouldnât run. She was sure of that. But the soldier did not seem convinced.
He barked an order and several bullets buried themselves into her legs. With a shrill scream she once again fell to her knees, hitting the ground hard.
âNo, you will not runâ he said with a self-satisfied grin and spat on the ground next to her face.
She was grabbed by the arms and dragged through the snowy forest back to the Lab. All the while tears were streaming down her face. But deep down she knew she wasnât broken. Her bones and flesh, maybe. Her mind, not in the least.
So they had won this round. They would see how the next would go.